The project of Baltimore’s Bob Keal, Small Sur has released four albums (as well as a couple of singles and an EP) over the last decade and a half. Attic Room is the first Small Sur album since 2013’s Labor, and more significantly, it is also the first since the birth of Keal’s daughter in 2014. During these intervening years, he created “hundreds of song fragments scratched into the margins of life,” and spurred on by sound engineer Matthew O’Connell (Chorusing) and his brother Joseph (aka Elephant Micah), Keal began the laborious process of sifting through this collection of voice memos and half-formed ideas, eventually hammering them into ten completed songs.

But the next steps were far from simple. Forced by the pandemic to cancel a five-day recording session at a cabin in North Carolina in March 2020, Keal took a few months to deal with more pressing concerns before turning to alternative plans for the album. He began to work with O’Connell remotely, laying down his vocal and guitar work in the basement of a local chapel while O’Connell handled the engineering and played piano and Telecaster. Eventually they reached out to other collaborators too, the limitations on a conventional full-band setup paradoxically ploughing the earth for a different kind of community to grow.

Keal describes Attic Room as a “bedroom country” record, a tag anyone familiar with the Small Sur oeuvre will intuitively understand. Keal makes music that is quiet and minimal, intimate in the truest sense. The sound of one person’s experience of life here on Earth, focusing not on grand narratives but the gentle wax and wane of everyday existence. The new album evokes images of weather patterns (such as the thundercloud of opener ‘A Clean Patch of Ground’), the changing seasons and countless small moments that are infused with a poetic gravity. Moments like the day’s last cigarette (‘Rays of Light’), watching harbour lights reflecting on dark nighttime water (‘Monhegan Island, 2012’), or even the warm-hued tones of a cherished memory (‘Aperture’).

It’s high tide in Tucson
and I’m bathing in the sun
in those western waters gleaming
with my lover in my arms

Small Sur has always excelled in these fine details, and Attic Room therefore fits neatly into the discography. But there are changes too, as is to be expected for work so inherently personal. Just like the landscapes and relationships he explores, Keal is slowly changing. Because of fatherhood and his relationship with his partner, not to mention the challenges of the last few years.

Nowhere is this new perspective more apparent than on ‘Sun’, a song which harks back to another called ‘I Love the Sun’ from 2008’s We Live in Houses Made of Wood. As its title suggests, the original was a simple ode to the most important star (“I love the sun /And its rays / Which fall by day from the heavens”). ‘Sun’ is the same song but sung from a different position, Keal now sharing his appreciation with his daughter. “I will show you the sunrise,” he sings, “in the meadow at dawn.” It’s a moment that, perhaps inadvertently, captures the essence of the record—the idea of finding fortitude and beauty in time passing, in cycles repeating, in the fact the sun continues to rise and set despite whatever else is going on in the world. What is love, after all, if not a study in time?

Congratulations on the release of Attic Room. How does it feel to have a new record out in the world?

Thank you! I haven’t recorded much since our last full-length, Labor, from 2013, so I feel happy to have some new music in people’s ears. It’s a bit surreal, too, mostly because of how people consume music these days, even compared with 2013. It feels like there is so much music being released—not sure if that’s reality or just my perception—so I’m just really thankful a few folks have given the album some time to sink in.

As with most artists over the last few years, the recording process was far from a simple one. How did you manage to work around the restraints of the pandemic, and do you think the album sounds different because of the circumstances it was born in?

First and foremost, my co-conspirator, Matthew O’Connell of Chorusing and Elephant Micah, brought so much to the table in terms of technical know-how and creative input. He engineered most of the record and co-produced it with me. I stand by the songs themselves, but the album would’ve been very different if I’d recorded it live with a band and added a handful of overdubs afterward. That’s what I’ve done in the past because of time and budget constraints, and that approach has its limitations. Because of the pandemic, Matt and I hunkered down and built things up from their basic parts, usually starting with voice and nylon string guitar. I’ve always tried to layer in sounds and parts in a way that feels subtle and intentional, but our overall approach really allowed that to take center stage rather than being an afterthought. In the end, I don’t think this album would be what it is without the limitations, so that’s one of the few positives I’m taking away from the pandemic’s many negatives.

Although Small Sur is very much your project, you enlisted the help of a pretty stellar cast of collaborators. How big an influence did each individual bring to the record?

I’ve always loved inviting folks to put their own stamp on my songs. I offer my opinions and input, but the spontaneity of having others just going for it is really fun. Aside from Matthew’s technical contributions to the album, he also played on piano, Telecaster, tape dubs, bass, and percussion. Erik Hall delivered an incredible mix and played some crucial piano parts. Andy Stack of Wye Oak/Joyero had a huge impact on these recordings, too. He has a super intuitive approach and special relationship with my songs, and I loved what he brought to the table, as always. Andy Abelow has played saxophone on my songs for 15 years, and he has some amazing contributions here, too, as does Will Ryerson, who’s played bass in the band for almost a decade. Cara Satalino of Outer Spaces on backing vocals, Joseph Decosimo on fiddle, Dave Hadley on steel guitar, Joe O’Connell on bass—all incredible contributions, too, and I can’t imagine the record without them.

One unique part of making this record was that most folks did their own engineering. The feedback/revision loop is a bear when working remotely, so I tried to communicate what I was looking for pretty clearly and to also be flexible and run with folks’ ideas even if they weren’t exactly what I had in mind. It was pretty fun, and everyone who played on the album brought so much talent to the table that I didn’t feel the need to clutch too tightly to control. I feel so thankful to have friends and acquaintances who were willing to chip in to flesh these songs out, and I can’t imagine what the album would be without each and every one of their contributions.

This is your first release since the birth of your daughter, and while I’m sure this had a practical impact on the album’s creation, I’m interested in how parenthood and the idea of family seeped into the songs themselves. Are you a different songwriter now? Did you write these songs with your daughter in mind?

Aside from the song ‘For Juniper,’ which I specifically wrote for my daughter, I didn’t write any of the other songs with her in mind. Parenting in general and the partnership I have with my wife Monique played a huge role in the lyrical content of the album and my ability to have the time to make it. We’ve weathered a lot together in the 16 years of our friendship and relationship, especially leading up to and during the pandemic. Continually growing in my ability to be supportive and present through the peaks and troughs of life has been a welcome education, and my reflections on that experience are all over the album.

My approach to writing songs has changed over the last decade because I often only have short windows of time in which to work. Most of the voice memos and quick ideas I record have lots of ambient noise in the background: my daughter singing or screaming, dishes clanking, the dog barking or his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. It makes me think of some of Mick Turner’s recordings, especially Moth, and I’d love to incorporate some of those sounds in finished recordings sometime.

The press release also refers to how the record evokes the “Midwestern landscapes of [your] childhood.” Does parenthood cast your mind back to your own childhood? Did you set out to explore these cycles of growth and development directly?

I’m a pretty nostalgic person, so I spend a lot of time thinking about my childhood and other past experiences. The farm in South Dakota where I grew up had a deep impact on who I am, and “place” in general has always inspired me—hence the name of the band and many songs named after specific places and times. I honestly don’t really set out to explore anything directly. Whatever happens just happens naturally.

Talking of cycles, nature has always been very present in your work. Again, is this intentional, or just something that happens as you write? And what is it about the natural world and its rhythms that can bring us so much strength and solace?

I am very intentional about spending time outside. My yearly goal is to sleep in a tent for three weeks, and on a good year I can push it close to a month. In the midst of these blocks of time, I am often—not always—calm and clear and open. During fall 2020, I wrote ‘For Juniper’ while camping in the Catskills. The lyrics and ideas that became ‘Sun’ were written while camping, too. I take great solace in the fact that I can return to places year after year and see things grow and shift and change. And I let those changes illuminate and reflect the shifts happening in my life, too. The natural world is the filter through which I understand and see my life in its clearest form. Some of the poets and songwriters I love most have similar approaches—Mary Oliver, Phil Elverum, Kyle Field of Little Wings, Joe O’Connell of Elephant Micah—so that surely inspires my work and funnels my approach in some way, too

Attic Room is out now. Order it via Worried Songs or the Small Sur Bandcamp page.

The post Small Sur – Attic Room appeared first on Various Small Flames.

Following on from singles ‘Sun Self‘ and ‘Kristofferson/StarStuffs‘, DoomFolk StarterKit (the recording project of Portland’s David Swick) is back with a brand new song. Existing within a conflicted state familiar in our contemporary moment, ‘2Hands’ finds a narrator caught between a need to retreat and rest and the seemingly endless task of working in order to stay afloat. A challenge faced with Swick’s trademark brand of introspective sincerity.

Field Guides – Margaret

“Attempting to not just represent the world, but show it to us anew.” That’s how we described Ginkgo, the forthcoming album from Field Guides on Whatever’s Clever in our preview of lead single, ‘Salmon Skin‘. Latest track ‘Margaret’ takes its inspiration from the nineteenth century author and women’s rights activist Margaret Fuller, her transcendentalist belief in the possibility of change lingering over an otherwise melancholic scene of domestic conflict. “And all that we have is ours for the taking” goes the final line, amended slightly from those which come before it, shimmering if not with hope then some mysterious precursor. Check out the video by Caleb Bryant Miller, Rebecca El-Saleh and Kupstas himself below:

Ginkgo is out via Whatever’s Clever on the 26th June and you can pre-order it now.

Fronjentress – Moon

Consisting of a rotating band of musicians based in Portland, Fronjentress unites artists who share an interest in the styles and themes of country music. “Classic country for contemporary times” is how the project describes its output, utilising traditional instruments and tropes to create something rooted within the present moment. Out this week on Perpetual Doom, latest album Baby Got Problems displays not only the aching melancholy of classic country music but also its wit and wry humour, as demonstrated on lead single, ‘Moon’. “If they told us that the moon / could be our new home pretty soon,” it begins:

Well, I’d pack a single bag
and go drifting
because this world has gotten strange
I surely won’t miss the rain
from my lonely paradise up in space

Baby’s Got Problems will be released on 14th May via Perpetual Doom. Order it now via Bandcamp.

Old Moon – Eastern Skies

Old Moon is the project of Tom Weir from Lyme, New Hampshire, who next month is releasing a brand new album titled Cities of the Plain via à La Carte Records and Love Chain Tapes. New single ‘Eastern Skies’ introduces Old Moon’s style, opening as an electrified folk song stark and expansive enough to live up to the McCarthy reference of the album’s title, but soon evolves into gothic shoegaze clamour. Weir’s vocals emerge from this with a brooding intensity, as though suspended within the sound, or else conjuring the heavy, sparkling tone itself.

Otracami – Pipe Scream

The project of Brooklyn-based songwriter Camila Ortiz, Otracami pitches itself between open coastal landscapes and gloomy bedrooms, working to unveil the mystery within both worlds. Latest single ‘Pipe Scream’ evokes the building pressure of an interrupted flow, its spacious, dreamy sound belying the desperation beneath the surface. There might not be a crashing crescendo within the track itself, but the promise of release is ever-present, even if the dam holds for now.

pipe scream
until it’s not
water pools behind my eyes
until i let it fall

Photokem – Future Minister

Consisting of Nana Acheampong (vocals), Leah Blom (violin), Nico Fennell (instrumentals/production), Jack Kelly (instrumentals) and Evan Ryckebusch (cello/bass), Photokem is an Austin-based outfit formed in 2021 after the group read Acheampong’s writing in the University of Texas’ BlackPrint publication. None of them had recorded music before, and Acheampong had never sang in public, which makes the richness and detail of debut EP Luffon Bright all the more impressive. ‘Future Minister’ introduces the style, its arrangement moving from quiet folk and emo-inflected rock to vivid orchestral swells, all tied together by Acheampong’s conversational yet striking delivery.

Shrill Pill – Still Alive

Northampton, MA’s Shrill Pill introduced their new EP Sparky on Hand Over Foot Records with the plucky and raucous ‘Loud and True’, though the latest single shows a different side to the band. ‘Still Alive’ offers an altogether more restrained sound, its quiet folk sensibilities creating a space reflective and warm, but within this subdued mood the lyrics still hold a feistiness. “War stories and war trophies are not the same at all,” goes one verse. “One you win and one you tell your friend you love but never call / Memory is better than an elegy / Keep me in your thoughts but please don’t talk to me.”

Troy Everett – ripples / outcast

The music of Maryland-born, D.C.-based artist Troy Everett encompasses a whole range of genres. From orchestral strings and electronic beats to more metal-adjacent screaming, his work lifts elements from across the stylistic gamut to bring to life his reflective and vulnerable themes. New double single ripples / outcast is the perfect example of this range, the first a mournful classical composition, the latter a stark and confessional pop song which slots alongside the work of artists like G. Brenner. “I feel like an outcast in my own mind,” Everett sings as the song builds around him, frenzied beats and lush classical arrangements coalescing into something urgent and poignant.

The post Weekly Listening: May 2022 #2 appeared first on Various Small Flames.

Kai Orion is back with start to end, a brand new album that is to be released early this spring. The record is Orion’s attempt to marry his experimental style with a more accessible sound, traditional instruments used in support of the more unorthodox sources, all tied together by lyrics based around relationships and beginnings and endings more generally.

We’re thrilled to be able to share the lead single, ‘Heartless’, a song indicative of the album as a whole. Here the emphasis is on changes and fluidity, the music imbued with a sense of dynamism despite its minimal aesthetic, subject to change at any moment. Plus, while employing a range of idiosyncratic instruments and sources (wine glasses, rhythmic flute, found sounds), the track cements Orion as an artist to be taken seriously beyond the novelty of his playful methods.

Through a composed yet persistent rhythm, the instrumentation serves as the perfect backing for the vocal delivery, providing an upbeat and even backdrop across which Kai Orion can display his vocal range. From the evocative murmurs of the opening lines to the fiercely heartfelt cries that mark the song’s crescendo, Orion is a songwriter placing sincerity at the forefront of his work, and it is the emotional connection, not the innovative and quirky style, that becomes the primary focus.

The post Kai Orion – Heartless appeared first on Various Small Flames.

Stripmall Ballads are back with a brand new release, Good For a While, a two-track EP that aims to pave the way for a brand new full-length album in 2019. Along with Evan Harris (bass), Jeremy Ebert (slide guitar), Darren Whitaker (guitar and vocals), Brandon Woods (drums and vocals) and Joshua P. James (harmony vocals), Phillips Saylor Wisor has evolved his sound so that it has something of a paradoxically rich lo-fi style—bringing to mind Gillian Welch and Townes Van Zandt but also big rocks bands like R.E.M.

A-side “You Were Good (I Was Good For a While),” draws inspiration from John Kennedy Toole’s Neon Bible, the Southern Gothic overtones fleshing out a world of strange violence and constant struggle. There’s nostalgia in the style too, though for what and when is unclear, as though the narrator understands that the time and place for which he pines is nothing more than a idealised fiction. The result is a gentle, lilting sadness that gradually yet constantly tightens its grip on things, the narrator’s desperation rising through the minor chords.

B-side ‘Yes Praise, Mercy Yes’ is a plaintive song of resistance that is at once pessimistic and unyielding, as though understanding the futility of protest against power but at the same time drawing energy and purpose from it. Such a nuanced and wistful take on opposition and resilience is made all the more poignant by the fundamental simplicity of the track—relying as it does on mournful vocals and the wistful spirit of our time.

Good for a While is out now via Freeloader Free Press. and you can get the previous Stripmall Ballads albums from his website.

Cover art by Sadie Rapp

The post Stripmall Ballads – Good For a While appeared first on Various Small Flames.

However, the relatively simplicity of the arrangement says nothing of the detail and scope of the music, as though in this genre there is an inverse relationship between number of instruments and level of detail. Indeed, as his bio states, Atalay’s music “varies in structure and character, ranging from long-form compositions to brief impressionistic explorations of a theme,” and thus through guitar alone he is equally capable of evoking moments in time as he is entire landscapes.

Teaming up with the good folks at Dust Etc. to put out what will be the first album that he has not released himself, this month sees the release of the latest Kerem Atalay, Summer Winter. Performing something of a balancing act between the poles of long form and vignette, the album draws its atmospheric core from the equally antithetical seasons of the title. The good folks at Post-Trash featured lead single ‘Summer 1’ a few weeks ago, a track they described as “warm and vibrant, beaming down like the hot sun and entrenched in long day vibes and late nights […] creep[ing] forward with a winding arpeggiated melody, bright and beautiful, with a sense of wonder.”

We’re super pleased to be able to share ‘Winter 2’, a brand new track from the thematic flip-side of the album. But that’s not to say Kerem Atalay moves away from a sense of wonder. The duality between summer and winter is not easily partitioned into a happy/sad divide, and ‘Winter 2’ could be said to match or even trump the brightness of ‘Summer 1’. This is a track representing early January mornings where the sun stretches shadows and shimmers layers of frost, life emerging from the night before, red cheeked and speckled with an icy light.

Summer Winter will be released on the 22nd June via Dust Etc. and you can pre-order it now from Bandcamp.

Tape design and photographs by Mindy Burgess and Caleb Kong

The post Song Premiere: Kerem Atalay – Winter 2 appeared first on Various Small Flames.

In preparation, the band have released lead single ‘ I Saw You’. Falling somewhere between Mount Moriah and Waxahatchee, the song suggests the new album will continue in the same vein as their previous music. The track is both cool and uncompromising, in possession of a spirit that’s buoyant yet not irreverent, shot through with a sense of easy confidence. Check out the video directed by Becca Brooks Morrin below:

A Shedding Snake is set to be released on the 27th May and you can pre-order it now from Don Giovanni Records.

Photo by Micah E. Wood

The post Outer Spaces announces new album, A Shedding Snake appeared first on Various Small Flames.

The opening title track begins soft, acoustic guitars and Ray’s vocals sprinkled like powder, before it hurtles into a transformation, sounding like a DIY version of Animal Collective’s dense and swirling psych, a joyously ramshackle clatter of a pop song. ‘Snow Day’ is glitchy and twitchy, Ray’s smooth vocals juxtaposed against the looped percussion and lyrics about an errant snow day in 2015, while ‘All Alone in Bed’ is an indie pop track that comes across something like Bellows meets Eskimeaux, telling the story of bad relationships and drugs and psychological struggle.

“are you coming home?
have you been losing weight again?
does your mother know that you’re skin and bones?
does your mother know those things you do
when you’re all alone in bed?”

’25 Days (may 15)’ has almost spiritual zen-like start before layering samples and Ray’s straining, impassioned vocals, creating something that extends beyond the pensive sorrow that exists on the rest of the album, a desperate, grasping regret encapsulated when he sings “this world could have been so many things and so could I”. ‘Without You’ more glitched beats behind high and sad and dreamy vocals (“what’s the point of the leaves changing colors
if I can’t watch them change with you?”), while ‘Abby’s Song’ is a change of tack which sees Abby Trunfio take over vocal duties on an acoustic bedroom pop track.

The wildly complex ‘You Can Always Hear Birds’ begins with atmospherics and a rapid barrage of digital drums and undergoes several careening changes of tone and tempo, before the palette-cleansingly short and sweet ‘The Way You Want’ and ‘Loved’, a subdued bedroom pop track with deceptively dark lyrics about death and mutilated birds (“a flightless bird though not by choice / on the side of the road with both wings cut off / another bird found by the lake / its severed head lying two feet away”). ‘The Body Descends’ is permeated with an audio clip of someone saying the strange phrase that is the album title, and becomes something pretty sincere, complete with piano and stirring atmospherics, the stomping percussion building and building into something like a crescendo, like a late night epiphany.

“I am what I’m not, my problems are God’s
when the body descends, we both sit and watch
& the strongest love I’ve felt in my life
rises up from the dark
to pull me aside
& across the room
& out in the hall
& outside my house
& out in the yard”

‘Possession’ deals with overcoming narcotic ghouls, while penultimate track ‘Closing on a Roof’ is slow and heartfelt with elegant viola and cello, before the music subsides and an audio clip enters of a girl reading a passage from Psalms, like a cryptic answer phone message left by a stranger in a dream. And then the album closes with ‘Bloom’, which feels happy and hopeful in a non-flashy way, just Ray and his guitar and lyrics about finding heaven when alone in the church parking lot, “it’s not art it’s something much softer than that”, he sings, “it was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever felt and probably ever seen.”

An Abundance of Strawberries is a convoluted mass full of idiosyncrasies and distinctive flourishes. But unlike many experimental albums, it also has a solid core, a sense of heart or humanity which elevates it beyond the realms of sonic speculation. The complexity of the compositions mirrors that of the narrator’s life, of his worries and regrets and confusion, and the communal spirit involved in the album’s creation seems somehow a response to that. It’s as if the album’s biggest artistic endeavour was added at the end, that it may have been conceived and developed by Julia Brown, but the result is something far bigger than any one band, something that took a collective spirit to complete.

You can get An Abundance of Strawberries on vinyl, cassette or CD via Joy Void Recordings, or as a name-your-price download via the Julia Brown Bandcamp page.

The post Julia Brown – An Abundance of Strawberries appeared first on Various Small Flames.

The band was expanded during the recording of Labor, with Dave Hadley (on pedal steel) and Andy Stack (of Wye Oak – on bass) joining regular members Bob Keal, Austin Stahl and Andy Abelow (who provided a lovely cover of ‘Two Years on Film’ on Slowcoustic’s J. Tillman tribute). These additions are particularly apparent on several tracks, including ‘The Salt’ (which you can hear in the player below) which has a bassline reminiscent of Elephant Micah (an artist the band profess a love for on their blog).

The entire album is filled with beautiful writing, poetic vignettes which compliment the style and pace of the instrumentation perfectly. I don’t have the lyrics to hand but from what I could gather by ear, there are several references to water and the sea, see for example on ‘The Salt’:

“Wandered into the water just in time to watch the salt lines climb up the wall”.

and on ‘Bloomington’

“I can’t follow you into the brackish water, where the oysters make their beds”.

The closing track, ‘Through The Blue’ is also heavily based around this theme and, again, is superbly written. My current favourite is the title track, with it’s opening of:

“Oh I swear I will find even more light in this coming year,
And the darkness will subside or bring focus unto the light.
I will build a shrine and within place my present mind,
Shaped from water, auburn earth, I will favour my lover over others.”

The song starts with a gentle guitar but swells and gains momentum as it progresses. The narrator delivers a pretty hopeful message of inspiration and promises to labour for his lover. I got some Strand of Oaks vibes, particularly from the electric guitar work later in the song. That has to be a good thing.

Every six months or so I tend to fall hard for a hushed and delicate folk album (past examples include Mountain Man’s Made The Harbor and Spirit Guides by Evening Hymns) and I think I have found my next one. The album has been on repeat all week and but I still can’t stop listening. Any fan of this type of music should be checking this out right away.

You can buy the album now on beautiful 140-gram white vinyl (in a sleeve featuring the art you can see above by artist Skye Gilkerson) or as a digital download, from the band’s Bandcamp page. As you may guess, it comes with my seal of approval.

P.S. The band are also going out on a North American tour with Peals, an experimental outfit made up of William Cashion of Future Islands and Bruce Willen of Double Dagger, who have recently released a very good album, Walking Field, on Thrill Jockey. Also check out the ingenious Furniture on their website, an interactive track comprised of 16 sound clips that the listener can play or adjust at their will. Get the tour dates here.

P.P.S. If you’re not familiar with Small Sur’s previous release, Tones, then 1. Take a good long look at yourself and 2. Get it here.

The post Small Sur – Labor appeared first on Various Small Flames.