Heartache and Candor Shine on Julien Baker's 'Turn Out the Lights'

In 2015, seemingly out of nowhere, a nineteen year-old Memphis post-punker by the name of Julien Baker released Sprained Ankle, a collection of songs written with startling awareness and humility that, for the most part, remains absent in much of her peers. Naturally, the blogosphere erupted with adoration - here was a promising young artist that had depth, sustainability, and seemingly little interest in the post-Internet social media sphere - and thus began the meteoric rise of Julien Baker’s (totally deserved) legacy.

It’s almost amusing to consider that throughout the two years that followed Sprained Ankle’s release, someone as private as Baker would quickly become one of the most sought after entities in independent music. If Baker’s songwriting were any indication, forthright lyrics and minimalist guitar would leading to indie-stardom would have been the last thing on her mind. Nevertheless, Baker is a member of the late-millennial generation, so combined with Baker’s irrefutable musical excellence, she garner deep and devout support from any and all who see her (as they should).

But with Baker, there’s an added dimension of fervent devotion - both amongst contemporaries and gatekeepers alike (Matador, NPR, and everyone in-between) - within the indie world. There’s an artist worth talking about, and for once, it seems like there’s enough of a wellspring of talent to continue talking about her, so when we stop talking and move on to whatever artist du-jour may pop up in the interim, Baker’s follow-up will no doubt be exceptional.

And almost to the T, when Baker announced the release date for her sophomore effort, Turn Out the Lights, almost exactly two years following the release of Sprained Ankle, that same adoration returned, and with good reason. While folks within the blogosphere may be quick to move on to something with a little more sheen to it, consistency is what truly builds a legacy, and TOTL  manages to serve as a prime exemplar.

When Baker and her new label, Matador, released TOTL’s lead single, “Appointments,” Baker’s rasped whisper came through singing heart-wrenching thoughts of not living up to another’s standards, failing to understand change over time, and ultimately watching such factors lead into the end of a relationship. All of this on top of Baker’s tastefully minimalist guitar tones, this time accentuated by percussive piano, further extending the sentiments of what is a devastating first taste.

The rest of TOTL follows suit - expanded sound (piano, string arrangements, and woodwind on an instrumental “Over,” which seamlessly leads into “Appointments”), and decidedly more confident (“Turn Out The Lights”), but ultimately plain-speaking lyricism. Baker’s candor has always been her most disarming artistic attribute - just look to the immense pain and visceral imagery of “Shadowboxer” for reference - but on TOTL, she manages to lean into her guitar abilities a little more willingly. The dynamic crescendos of “Shadowboxer” or the subtle overlays of “Sour Breath” further extend Baker’s supreme progression as a lyricist on top of her continued prowess.

While Baker’s musicality may serve as a pleasant surprise on TOTL, her distinct capacity with language continues to be by far and away the most beguiling aspect of any Julien Baker project. Baker’s lyrical depth has hardly been doubted, refuted, or rebuked - and to do so would only serve a contrarian cause - but if there was ever an ounce of musing uncertainty, this album throws any and all cynicism by the wayside.

TOTL is an absolute masterclass in songwriting. Look no further than “Televangelist” for what is one of the strongest exercises in allegorical elocution in recent memory. Wasting no time, Baker opens with “My heart is going to eat itself,” diving headfirst into a hymn of heart broken masochistic martyrdom. Shortly thereafter, Baker utters what may be the greatest line of the year - ”I’m an amputee with a phantom touch / Leaning on an invisible crutch / Pinned to the mattress like an insect to styrofoam / Coming up from my bedroom alone,” - over nothing more than echoing piano. Baker goes straight for the heart, in an attempt to imbue her own anguish.

Turn Out the Lights is truly one of the best albums of 2017. There is no galavanting of gregariousness, no over-saturation of privileged existence, instead, there is only what Baker offers up for those who are willing to receive of her. This album is her via dolorosa, and we are privileged that she would be willing to share it with the world. Julien Baker is a once-in-a-lifetime talent, and Turn Out the Lights is simply exquisite.

Elliot Moss Returns with Meticulous Melodies on 'Boomerang' EP

Elliot Moss is a bit of an enigmatic figure within the world of independent music. He’s relatively young – still early 20s – and by far and away one of the most talented composer in his arena, regardless of age. Yet somehow, Moss’ work has become criminally under-covered and under-celebrated, at least for longer than a post-release week.

Perhaps part of the reason Moss’ work finds itself residing on the outer rings of the independent wunderkind producer orbit lies in the sheer excellence of his compositions. Point and case being Moss’ debut LP, Highspeeds, which dropped in 2015. It was highly musical with minimalist melodies draped over impressive jazz cuts and electronic 808s alike. Moss quickly differentiated himself from the rest of his debut class, filled mostly of bedroom producers hiding behind airy and minimalistic compositions.

Unlike some of Moss’ less meticulous yet over-hyped contemporaries (pick any of the PBRnB’ers out there today), the multi-instrumentalist melds genre in some of the most seamless and logical of manners. If one were forced to make gross immediate genre comparisons, Moss might best be described as the realist, less emotional nephew of Nick Murphy imitating James Blake in the midst of a Radiohead math-rock kick.

All that to be said, Moss seems to have set course toward the zeitgeist, rather than against it on his newest extended play effort, Boomerang. The EP opens with an almost instant groove – more languid and airy than Highspeeds, but altogether unique to Moss’ oeuvre.

Admittedly, aspects of Moss’ choice of synth effect and ventilated falsetto on album opener “Closedloop” do sound perilously close to James Blake. Luckily, neither are the zenith of the track – the song’s highlight is one of many new pathways for Moss – a nearly affectless break beat that never wavers for the entirety of the song. It feels more hip-hop than a James Blake single, but the manner of which is by no means forced. It’s an initial observation for more concerted listeners and then nothing more, as it diverts the listener’s ear from any and all undo comparison.

Other tracks on Boomerang flirt with either side of the dark wave and deep synth pop that seems to be en vogue at the moment. “Without Light” is sonically driven, as a Mount Kimbie-esque music sequencer dominates the track as Moss’ vocals serve primarily as yet another aspect of layering within the song.

Meanwhile, “99” is a largely lyric driven track that revolves around the hook of “I may never come home” and the thought of separation and abandonment. One may even feel moved to describe Moss’ lyrical preference on “99” as “mature” while considering his age, but that would be a tired and easy observation. If anything, the song is sultry and noirish, a nominally confessional track that explores the perils and pleasures of, for lack of a better interpretation, “solidarity.”

All throughout Boomerang Moss finds plenty of space to scrutinize and verify his own abilities within his respective dark pop arena, especially on Boomerang’s eponymous song. It’s the album’s second shortest, yet most rewarding track. “Boomerang” is tender and reserved, all the while swirling with confessional spirit. There’s a Klavierwerke nature once “Boomerang” comes and goes right into the even shorter “My Statue Sinking” - it crescendos into a highly emotive and orchestral whirl of tempestuous thought alongside Moss’ hypersensitive phrasing. The Boomerang triumvirate finishes with “Dolly Zoom,” a soft cooing confessional of “blood running circles inside the machine” and coming to grips with an end.

Where the three tracks that precede it embody the most idealized version of Elliot Moss’ historic “sound,” Boomerang closer “Falling Down and Getting Hurt” reveals an exciting foray into what could be yet to come on future iterations of Moss’ discography. The album closes as groovily as it opens – a reticent club banger propelled by a break beat flowing in and out of a dark wave dream. In a nutshell, “Falling Down and Getting Hurt” feels a lot like what one might imagine a happy James Blake to sound like, but that’s not happening any time soon, so thank goodness for Elliot Moss.

It honestly pains me to have referenced James Blake the handful of times he has been alluded to or sourced in this review, but I believe it to be accurate. Elliot Moss will not suffer the assignment of being “the next” whomever, but, its fair to point out that Boomerang being an EP – and a solid one at that – it's hard not to recognize the similarities – not only sonically, but in the career sense – between Moss’ post-debut EP and James Blake’s Klavierwerke EP way back when. They explore all aspects of the dark wave universe, from minimalist piano lyricism to heavy encoding and sequencing. Regardless, Moss’ work on Boomerang operates on a more earnest level, but all the while being just as apt for being ripped by Kanye at any given moment (that is a compliment). It's hard to gauge where Moss could go from this point on, but with the command of musical flexibility he exhibits on Boomerang, it can only be up.

San Fermin's 'Belong' is Chamber Pop Excellence

As far as bands are concerned, San Fermin is arguably one of the most unintentionally musical projects on the active circuit. If you’re unfamiliar with the group (perhaps “collective” is a better term) San Fermin, you may find your subconscious asking “well, why are they famous?” If such is the case, I’ll bury the lede.

San Fermin is the vehicle for auteur composer Ellis Ludwig-Leone (an exceptional composer name, by the way) to get his proverbial chamber pop “rocks” off. While has Ludwig-Leone handled most to all of the composition and songwriting for San Fermin’s three LP releases, the recording process as a whole is by committee.

Vocalists Charlene Kaye and Allen Tate provide melodies and additional lyrical input, while John Brandon, Stephen Chen, Tyler McDiarmid, Rebekah Durham and Michael Hanf provide the grit and structure of San Fermin. Over the course of four years, San Fermin released two exceptional explorations of the baroque and chamber pop realms – San Fermin (2013) and Jackrabbit (2015) – which culminated in the production of the band’s newest full-length effort, Belong.

Between the three albums, Belong feels slightly more akin to the band's eponymous debut. The prevailing sensibilities of earnestness and simultaneous trepidation are as strong in Belong as any instance on San Fermin. Not to place Jackrabbit on the comparative backburner, but Belong serves as a current (in this instance meaning, “musically topical”) return to form.

There are classic tenants of San Fermin-dom such as visceral horn sections composed by Ludwig-Leone and performed by John Brandon (trumpet) and Stephen Chen (saxophone). If I may have a moment of personal expression and highlight one of my favorite instances of exceptional horn-i-ness (sorry) – “Better Form” has one of the strongest baritone sax basslines I can recall (I suppose that phrase isn’t uttered all that often in modern music criticism, but I digress).

Led by Allen Tate’s own baritone timbre, “Better Form” struts around like a modern wistful club anthem, but Ludwig-Leone’s brilliance places horns and strings where the familiar womps of a Deadmau5 or Flume might place some bright shimmery electronica. The song ebbs and flows with club sensibilities – drops, dramatic musical breaks – but maintains that strong baroque methodology San Fermin has nestled itself into. The song itself is one giant crescendo into the album’s second third, and by far and away one of it most dynamic.

Speaking of dynamism, such a descriptor is necessary when referencing any and all songs of which feature both vocalists Allen Tate and Charlene Kaye performing in unison. While both have their exceptional merits – Kaye being more airy and affirmative, Tate serving as the more despondent and doleful narrator – their “duets” offer up the purest sense of San Fermin. Title track “Belong” serves as an excellent example – Tate leads the song in his historically crestfallen croon, but Kaye and violinist Rebekah Durham provide a ray of light that veils Tate’s eventual growth into contentment.

While there may be no obvious stalwart track like “Sonsick” (off of San Fermin) or saccharine sweet single like “Emily” (off Jackrabbit), Belong as a whole stands to wind up being the most complete record in San Fermin’s early discography. Songs like “Dead” feel unique to current purviews amongst the new-age bourgeoisies and their individual (and potentially dwindling) freedoms as Kaye caterwauls in front of a frenzied composition only Ludwig-Leone could conceive.

Belong itself is a bit of a marvel, considering the extensive songlisting of San Fermin’s three record discography. Ludwig-Leone has composed 55 songs in the past four years. Mind you, that was composed, not “wrote.” The complex and concerted efforts of Ludwig-Leone have always benefitted San Fermin throughout the band’s existence, but never more so than on Belong. After half a decade of touring and playing alongside each other, Belong makes it apparent that Ludwig-Leone and his associates have reached their most intimate understanding of each other, culminating in a masterful crescendo.

Tame Impala's Cameron Avery Drops Psych Rock for Art Pop on 'Ripe Dreams, Pipe Dreams'

Remember how Andy Shauf kind of “came out of nowhere” with one of the best albums of 2016 (The Party)? It was beguiling, challenging, and met with rapturous acclaim. Everyone loves a dark horse (for the most part).

That being said, music most certainly is not a competition in which one artist challenges an incumbent band for some intangible trophy; It's been hammered home as being wholly subjective. Then again, it's hard to deny when there’s a debut that’s so moving, mighty, and majestic you can’t help but think it’s a cut above the rest.

Point and case – Cameron Avery and his debut solo LP, Ripe Dreams, Pipe Dreams.

The record is an absolute and unequivocal triumph (yes, I know – “Yeah, well, that’s just, like, your opinion, man.”), as Avery all but abandon’s the trappings of his more publicized musical associations.

For the uninitiated, a quick Wikipedia dive will inform you of Avery’s involvements with psych dynamos Tame Impala and POND, as well as some auxiliary work with The Last Shadow Puppets, and fronting his own band, The Growl. Let’s take a moment for the fan boys to settle themselves after writhing with elation at the sumptuous smorgasbord of indie music that is Avery’s resume-to-date. But that’s neither here nor there – we’re focusing on Avery’s newest (and arguably, his finest) project, Ripe Dreams, Pipe Dreams.

In a word, Ripe Dreams, Pipe Dreams is sublime. Avery’s departure from psych rock and subsequent re-orienting toward spaghetti-western-meets-cinematic-lounge-music is a thing of beauty; It's a near master class level of seamless transition.

Where the majority of Avery’s musical projects rest soundly within the realm of neo-psychedelia, Ripe Dreams, Pipe Dreams is about as nebulous in genre as one could hope for. Granted, there’s a distinctive (albeit indeterminate at times) emotion to each song that serves as the thru line to the album as a whole; well, that, and Avery’s dramatic baritone. Everything else on the record seems to take its own liberties of expression, in turn making for a magnificently mercurial sounding work of art.

Take the opening pair of tracks on Ripe Dreams, Pipe Dreams – “A Time and Place” and “Do You Know Me By Heart” – the former of the two has a romantic lullaby feel, with Avery crooning over a smile and display amongst loaded words and passing slurs. Meanwhile, “Do You Know Me By Heart” sounds like cross between '50s/'60s era pop, a la Nancy Sinatra meets modern day lounge pop of Michael Bublé (but a thousand times better).

After flexing his pop prowess muscles, Avery sends the record in a different direction on “Dance with Me,” the would-be Nick Cave-meets-Leonard Cohen spoken singing single that toes the line between sinister and endearing. Meandering baritone guitar and horn blasts ebb and flow with each bemused line of the track – “I’m just a call away / I’m just a plane by day / if you’ll just dance with me.”

Slowly but surely, Avery begins to identify his definitive sound, somewhere between cosmic pop and the aforementioned spaghetti western. “Wasted On Fidelity” touches on "shows to stop / and pills to pop," offering Avery’s most apparent confidence in his narrative, while “Big Town Girl” commences the cementing of Avery’s pop presence. It’s a romantic swerve of cynicism and solicitude that places Jane (aka “Big Town Girl”) at the forefront of Avery’s mind and tongue.

The motifs and themes of Ripe Dreams, Pipe Dreams are suggestive in a way, as the majority of songs center on placing unidentified lovers on somewhat beguiled, somewhat sordid pedestals of existence, which in a way create this gritty realism to the album’s overall narrative. In a way, the songs feel familiar and extraordinary all the same, similar to a Raymond Carver story.

That being said, the heavy baritone in Avery’s voice and his guitar do conjure up imagines of Cormac McCarthy minus the blood and guts. For instance, “Disposable” takes the concept of romantic shelf life and the reality of life’s inconceivable (and mostly inevitable) shortcomings influencing relationships.

So while Ripe Dreams, Pipe Dreams reaches it full form somewhere in the middle of its run, the album still challenges the listener to experience the record on Avery’s terms. “Watch Me Take it Away” is a musical despot’s dream, running from aggressive avant-gardism to 60s power pop to the slightest hint of Impala-esque psych rock, only to be undermined (and ultimately, superseded) by Ripe Dreams, Pipe Dreams’ sublime final third.

Ripe Dreams, Pipe Dreams ends on a run of cinema level of “long songs,” allowing Avery to express his fullest scope of feeling and imbue his ultimate musings in their most effective fashions. There’s “An Ever Jarring Moment,” which serves as just that, following “Watch Me Take it Away,” a near tonal opposite. Then, there’s “C’est Toi,” which out of all the songs on the record, seems to have the longest half-life. In terms of versatility, “C’est Toi” is the warmest of the bunch, all the while maintaining the cynical despondency of the album as a whole. Also, its just a damn good love song.

In maintaining the beautifully mercurial nature of Ripe Dreams, Pipe Dreams, the album ends on the hyperbolic yarn that is “Whoever Said Gambling’s For Suckers.” Its somewhat akin to a Bowie-meets-Cave satirical expansion on the song’s namesake take on the Motorhead lyric. There’s talk of Dale the Dog Trainer and splattering cerebellum on the back wall, a desperado’s tale of bounty hunting noir. Its something wholly unique to the album and Avery’s music itself.

All in all, Ripe Dreams, Pipe Dreams is an intrepid album to say the least. It runs the gamut of genre and challenges any and all conceptions of what an album’s structure should look like. I’d be lying if I didn’t say that Ripe Dreams, Pipe Dreams was a total an unequivocal surprise in its sonic excellence – half because a psych rock album was expected, and secondly, the overall superiority of the record is astonishing. While we may only be a wee three months into 2017, don’t be surprised when you see Avery’s name cropping up here and there come year end list season; I know it will certainly have a place on mine.

Thundercat's 'Drunk' Stakes Early Claim to Best Weird Album of the Year

While the discussion of musical merit with regard to Thundercat’s newest LP, Drunk, will almost certainly remain indeterminate (but skewing positive), one thing is certain – Drunk has the best artwork of 2017 by far and away. Totally devoid of context, Stephen Bruner’s head is visibly breaching or submerging with eyebrow cocked.

The cover’s uniform absurdity might confuse those unfamiliar with Thundercat’s oeuvre to date, but for those “in the know” when it comes to Stephen Bruner’s sensibilities, they’ll assure any doubters the cover encapsulates the entirety of Thundercat’s sensibilities masterfully. That being said, so does the music.

Being Flying Lotus, OFWGKTA (R.I.P), Kamasi Washington adjacent, Thundercat has been seemingly omnipresent amongst hip-hop’s best and brightest, all the while maintaining relative anonymity. Over the years, Thundercat forged creative partnerships with Kendrick Lamar and the aforementioned Washington, simultaneously expanding his solo repertoire to boot.

Lo and behold, Thundercat drops an album like Drunk, a 23-track powerhouse showcasing the furthest bounds of Stephen Bruner’s musical eccentricities. Running the gamut of music from yacht rock (Michael McDonald and Kenny Loggins feature on “Friend Zone”) to the now two-year old Thundercat standard, “Them Changes,” Drunk solidifies Thundercat’s borderline satirist necessity in this new era of hip-hop.

If Kendrick is new-age hip-hop’s conscientious objector, Chance its purveyor of joy, Childish Gambino its Renaissance man, and Drake its stalwart of popcaan (that’s a joke), then Thundercat is the court jester. Point and case – the first full-length track on Drunk, “Captain Stupido.”

Yet another Thundercat/Flying Lotus collaboration, “Captain Stupido” is the perfect convergence of Flying Lotus’ brash g-funk production style and Thundercat’s… let’s just call it “inspired” lyrical proclivity. Opening with the line “I feel weird (comb your beard, brush your teeth) / Still feel weird (beat your meat, go to sleep),” the track dives right into the playful juxtaposition Bruner forces upon the tight production for a song about an ill-fated night at the club. It has the tenants of hip-hop, all the while laughing in the face of the conformity of such an “unabashed” genre.

Seeing as Drunk is in fact a 23-track voyage of space funk, trip-hop, g-funk, and every other brand new iteration of the new-age hip-hop family tree, it might serve us best to take some quick hits of standout moments on the record rather than building a blow-by-blow account (your attention span can thank me later, after your 10th h3h3 video).

“A Fan’s Mail (Tron Song Suite II)” takes some of the smoothest break beats and sends them straight to the back of the mix, with the occasional snare hit creeping to the front at a particularly fat break. While the groove is working itself up, Bruner decides to present a hook worthy of a meme loving hip-hop head – “I want to be a cat” with faint “meow, meows” echoing in the middle of the mix. If anything, Thundercat is solidifying himself as a meme’s musician.

Realistically, Drunk is more of a hip-hop adjacent record that has every intention of masquerading as an R&B record, but lost in the midst of a mushroom-laden vision quest. Or, in layman’s terms, Drunk is whatever the hell Thundercat wants it to be. I mean, look at “Show You The Way,” one of the earliest singles for the album. As referenced earlier, it features two legends of yacht rock – Michael McDonald and Kenny Loggins – alongside Thundercat and Flying Lotus. While the combination might seem like the “Danger Zone” of “collabos” in 2017, it’s a near lock for front-runner for best collaboration of the year (please let it be true; anyone would be better than another half-baked Chainsmokers song).

There are other memorable moments on Drunk – the anticipatory Kendrick feature, “Walk On By,” and iPhone alarm sampling “Friend Zone” – but one could (and should) argue that the best moment on Drunk comes in the one-two punch of “Blackkk” and “Japan.” The two tracks take some of Thundercat’s finest production and throws on a nice flair of freak-out funny lyricism. “Blackkk” sets the scene of a west coast lounge groove before entering the R&B night crawler that is “Japan.” One listen to “Japan” and you’ll hear lines like “gonna eat so much fish / I think I’m gonna get sick” and “gonna blow all my cash on anime.” If that doesn’t elicit a chuckle or two I don’t know what would.

So there you have it, Drunk is a lot of things, but it can be said with great confidence that they are a lot of good things. You’d be hard pressed to find a heavy moment, thematically speaking, but there’s plenty of content to dive into from a musicality standpoint. Then there’s the literally absurd lyricism – “look at this mess, who’s gonna clean it up?/Oh my god, where’s Captain Planet?” – Stephen Bruner has really set the bar high when it comes to making the tightest, casual R&B, hip-hop record of the year. For the time being, Thundercat holds the belt for 2017’s finest satirical absurdist album, that is until Father John Misty drops Pure Comedy.  

'22, A Million' and the Dissociation of Bon Iver

In observance of Bon Iver’s career catalogue to date, each third can be easily identified through a distinct phase or impression: There was the apocrypha of For Emma, Forever Ago, the prophecy of Bon Iver, Bon Iver, and now the martyrdom that is 22, A Million. While the martyrdom is certainly sensationalistic in some regards, there’s a reason for such nomenclature – following Bon Iver’s 2012 Grammy win for “Best New Artist” and “Best Alternative Album,” Justin Vernon desperately needed (for his own well-being, not for the sake of the masses) to shed the label of “indie god.” In a way, Bon Iver had become exactly what Vernon had feared – a proverbial gateway drug to the world of independent alternative folk rock. So Vernon simply “ended” Bon Iver.

The instantaneous termination of Bon Iver devastated many a self-indulgent millennial hipster, of whom had yearned for an Elliot Smith or Kurt Kobain of their own, and to most, that was Vernon. But being placed on a pedestal of overblown apocrypha and adulation was never a desire of Vernon’s, who sought not to appease the fervent masses that had deified him without his consent. So he disappeared, hiding in plain sight the entire time - five years of runs with the likes of Volcano Choir, The Shouting Matches, (the highly publicized) Kanye West collaborations – but never producing new Bon Iver, outside of a commissioned track for a Zach Braff film (“Heavenly Father”), which Vernon aired his criticism of the process on a handful of occasions.

All the while, self-ascribed Vernon-nites pined for more Bon Iver, but Vernon would assert with great confidence Bon Iver was on hiatus, stating that intense writer’s block and creative stunting had impeded the process of envisioning Bon Iver’s next iteration. Then Eaux Claires came along, rekindling Vernon’s Bon Iver creative kick, presenting two new tracks (“666 ʇ” and “29# Strafford APTS”), and the following year, running through 22, A Million in its entirety.

Thus, indie en masse was aroused by the ensuing prospect of a Bon Iver album release, but at what price? The new tracks and eventual single releases – “22 (OVER S∞∞N)” and “10 d E A T h b R E a s T” – were utterly divisive and dissociative amongst fair-weather Bon Iver listeners, sighting the warbled vocoder effects and reverse percussive sounds alongside emoji-laden song titles as uninspired flourishes. But for the initiated and more familiar of Bon Iver faithful, the meaning of the peculiar track titles and hellish sound sequences were apparent – 22, A Million is the martyrous dissociation of Bon Iver as we know, all the while maintaining every tenant of classic “Bon Iver-dom." There are a myriad of reasons why a devout (with blind faith) Bon Iver disciple would assert that every single song serves as an ahead-of-its-time template that the next wave of industrial folk aficionados will undoubtedly imitate in vain.

22, A Million marks Bon Iver’s most impressionistic work to date, operating almost entirely upon an emotional plane. Songs like “715 – CR∑∑KS” delve into a single location that carries such depth and weight for Vernon that it seems as though there’s an attempt to masque the visceral emotion brought about by Vernon through the intricate (and magnificent) musical composition. Other tracks resemble the attempts at obfuscating emotion through synthetic flourishes, warping a distorted Vernon vocal to almost totally dissociate Eau Claire’s prodigal son, as he only provides the most intense and brief glimpses into Vernon’s past five years with little to no context, tracks like “33 “GOD”” being prime examples – “Staying at the Ace Hotel;” corporate branding, I think not.

Less observant listeners have gone as far as opining the newest iteration of Bon Iver is nothing more than bombast and old hat tricks of the indie trade, but one can only hope that such close-minded dismissal of anything other than For Emma or Bon Iver, Bon Iver will become withered and eventually dismissed within its own right upon a simple careful listen to 22, A Million. Where Vernon’s first two projects dealt primarily with the most outright of narratives in service of emotion and verve, 22, A Million focuses on the atmospheric feeling and synthetic grit to best service the project. While the primary focus of 22, A Million will likely never be revealed, as Vernon has become increasingly reclusive (or at least expressed his desire to do so) throughout the promotional cycle for the record, and tracks like “22 (OVER S∞∞N)” hint at a possible end to Bon Iver – “It might be over soon…” – 22, A Million will serve as the finest dissociation of Justin Vernon from Bon Iver, making it the project’s best work to date, and if things truly will be over soon, Bon Iver’s greatest album ever. 

Bon Iver Debuts Tempestuous New Single, "33 'GOD,'" off '22, A Million'

Justin Vernon has released another single to precede Bon Iver’s highly anticipated September 30th release, 22, A Million, out on Jagjaguwar, conspicuously titled “33 ‘GOD.'” Arguably the most tamely titled track on an otherwise baffling slate of album tracks, “33 ‘GOD'” is magnificently nebulous in its genre depiction of this newest iteration of Bon Iver.

Where For Emma Forever Ago presented a solitary Vernon coming to terms with myriad personal crises (and creating never ending apocrypha of “the cabin”) and Bon Iver, Bon Iver offered a more musically magnanimous version of Bon Iver (and continued to challenge perceptions of “Bonny Bear”), “33 ‘GOD'” combines both.

The track almost comes off as a combative confluence of Bon Iver new and old - seemingly more expansive (a la Bon Iver, Bon Iver) in its warping musicality, all the while seeming more and more enclosed within Vernon’s personal narratives (For Emma), but being something wholly foreign to previous Bon Iver efforts as well.

Musically, the song is all over the place, but in the most ethereal of compositions – the track opens with soulful piano and heavily distorted samples of Paolo Nutini’s “Iron Sky,” along with Lonnie Holley’s “All Rendered Truth.” Sampling is new territory for Bon Iver, but not Vernon, as his famous collaborations with Kanye West have undoubtedly exposed the Eau Claire native to the act quite a bit.

When Vernon’s trademark Bon Iver falsetto comes in, its familiar, but with a more Kanye-esque auto tune timbre, which warps into a brooding howl at certain points as the heavily modded percussion rumbles toward spiritually pitched breaks that recall a less tempestuous Bon Iver; a Bon Iver far less realized than the one “33 ‘GOD'” present.

It should be noted that lyrically, the song features what is arguably Vernon’s most tangible allusion to personal experience – the Ace Hotel. But even with such a fact, The Ace Hotel is a chain, featuring 9 different locations, so insight into what personal allusion the reference holds in Vernon’s journey is still entirely shrouded – as Vernon undoubtedly would prefer it to stay.

It seems unlikely that Vernon will release any more tracks from 22, A Million considering there have already been three singles released prior to the album’s release, and “33 ‘GOD'” just so happened to release on the evening of the same day 22, A Million had its first substantial leak.

That being said, 22, A Million appears to be shaping up as a titan of the 2016 release schedule, and a certifiable top-5 album of 2016 contender.

http://smarturl.it/BI_22AM 22, A Million Out September 30 on Jagjaguwar Created/Produced/Directed by Aaron Anderson & Eric Timothy Carlson Artwork by Eric Timothy Carlson Source Video by Kyle Frenette

After Five Years Bon Iver Announces New Album, '22, A Million,' Releases Two New Tracks

Hold onto your high and tight fades you hipster hopefuls, Justin Vernon has returned from the proverbial woods to bestow yet another (seemingly) immaculate album via Bon Iver (or “Bonny Bear,” if you have only a casual predilection), entitled 22, A Million.

This might seem like yet another “surprise” release in a year that has been saturated with irrefutably tiresome “event” music cycle, but in true Vernon fashion, promotion for the new record has been under operation in plain site for months (even years). The first indication is the conception of Vernon’s passion project, Eaux Claires Music and Arts Festival - which Vernon co-founded with The National’s Aaron Dessner. A festival, which was indicated as an annual event in which Vernon would be able to premiere various Bon Iver and non-Bon Iver, related works.

The second indication came more recently, as promotional efforts ramped up with a mysterious YouTube video released on July 22nd featuring the title “#22days” and a tune that we now know as album single “22 (OVER S∞∞N).” Then, in early August, the Bon Iver socials began to tease artwork, and eventually, a “pedestrian” (really just an industry plant) happened upon a street mural featuring similar art to the 22, A Million album cover.

22, A Million cover art

After the under-our-noses vague promotion, we now know the full, ephemerally wonderful scope of Bon Iver and JV’s shenanigans – 22, A Million is due out on September 30th, via long time Bon Iver label, Jagjaguwar. Vernon and co. premiered the entire 10-track record at Eaux Claires, fully realizing the festival’s purpose, and released two singles from the record immediately following the band’s headlining set.

Between the two singles, it's obvious that the Teenage Engineering OP-1 that Vernon had casually mentioned in a handful of interviews to promote Eaux Claire’s inaugural year in 2015 played a far more substantial role in JV and Bon Iver’s creative process for 22, A Million than anyone could have imagined. “22 (OVER S∞∞N)” and “10 d E A T h b R E a s T ⊠ ⊠” both feature every iteration of Bon Iver channeled through OP-1 production styles and effects. Conceivably, Justin Vernon has managed to do the impossible by not only maintaining Bon Iver tenants of musicality, composition, and lyricism, but progressing the entity itself without any repercussions from such growth.

Outside of the two singles, which include the classic lyrical cryptic messaging and phraseology, not much else is known about 22, A Million, and it's likely little else will be revealed until the album’s 9/30 release date. That being said, for the uninitiated that desire to find out more, it should be noted that the number 22 has played an immeasurably substantial role in Vernon’s life, via a press release for the album:

22 stands for Justin Vernon. The number's recurrence in his life has become a meaningful pattern through encounter and recognition. A mile marker, a jersey number, a bill total. The reflection of '2' is his identity bound up in duality: the relationship he has with himself and the relationship he has with the rest of the world. A Million is the rest of that world: the millions of people who we will never know, the infinite and the endless, everything outside one's self that makes you who you are. The other side of Justin's duality is the thing that completes him and what he searches for. 22, A Million is thus part love letter, part final resting place of two decades of searching for self-understanding like a religion. And the inner-resolution of maybe never finding that understanding. When Justin sings, "I'm still standing in the need of prayer" he begs the question of what's worth worshipping, or rather, what is possible to worship. If music is a sacred form of discovering, knowing and being, then Bon Iver's albums are totems to that faith.

Seeing as the album is set to release in early Fall, a 2016 tour announcement seems unlikely, but do not be surprised if Bon Iver hits the road in early 2017, as by that point, 22, A Million will have likely achieved indie-immortality that demands JV and Bon Iver’s presence once more.

Listen to “22 (OVER S∞∞N)” and “10 d E A T h b R E a s T ⊠ ⊠” and see the full tracklist below:

http://smarturl.it/BI_22AM 22, A Million Out September 30 on Jagjaguwar Created/Produced/Directed by Aaron Anderson & Eric Timothy Carlson Artwork by Eric Timothy Carlson Photograph by Cameron Wittig & Crystal Quinn No Justins were harmed in the making of this lyric video

http://smarturl.it/BI_22AM 22, A Million Out September 30 on Jagjaguwar Created/Produced/Directed by Aaron Anderson & Eric Timothy Carlson Artwork by Eric Timothy Carlson

22, A Million

1. 22 (OVER S∞∞N)
2. 10 d E A T h b R E a s T ⊠ ⊠
3. 715 - CRΣΣKS
4. 33 “GOD”
5. 29 #Strafford APTS
6. 666 ʇ
7. 21 M♢♢N WATER
8. 8 (circle)
9. _45__
10. 00000 Million

NAO Tackles R&B From Every Angle on 'For All We Know'

If you are reading this, Boys Don’t Cry hasn’t dropped yet. In all honesty, there are probably a grand total of 9 people who are legitimately surprised by such an unfortunate reality, but nevertheless, Frank has all but solidified his status as Patron Saint of Procrastinators and Teases. For those of us eagerly awaiting the arrival of Boys Don’t Cry, the initial reaction might be to set angry Google alerts at work, sitting silently in pure indignation, but lest I remind you – Frank doesn’t owe us anything.

So, instead of mildly raging against Frank and his failure to meet a self-imposed deadline, take time to celebrate the opportunity to listen to any of the slew of excellent releases that happen to fall upon the same date. One such release is that of “wonky funk” goddess NAO. Its been a steady build to NAO’s debut record – two years’ worth of top of the line EP releases and single – with the ascent finally peaking with her 18-track deep LP, For All We Know.

The record features a number of tracks from Neo Jessica Joshua (the begetter behind NAO)’s fantastic string of EPs and singles, including the XXYXX laser beam through ganja haze single “Bad Blood,” that sees NAO squelch the assumption that she would be the latest iteration of FKA Twigs. While Joshua’s song-bird warble might resemble her contemporaries Twigs and Kelela, NAO maintains a certain sheen that distinguishes her from the gritty-post-Popcaan-rave that someone such as Kelela might. NAO’s musicality feels more cognizant of her R&B origins, opting for classic funk beats and tomes as opposed to integrating a fader-warped galactic overdrive.

NAO’s music feels more akin to the likes of fellow 2016 R&B stalwart Gallant – a reverential approach to the union of R&B, funk, and pop – while producing a wholly distinctive spin that appeases both the old-heads and Arthur-memeing Millennials. In a way, she has managed to fall into the ideal gray-area of modern R&B/soul, which could be attributed to her stint as a Jarvis Cocker session singer – her clean vocal production and heavy instrumentals help propel the record forward and into the realm of “must listen” for any and all.

An interesting facet of For All We Know is the fact that there’s a seemingly nondescript narrative to the record, in that there’s no definitive over-arching theme, but a sort of ping-ponging back forth between from the bowels of the club love scenarios and self-rumination on songs like the aptly titled “Fool to Love.” If there is any cohesive narrative to the album, it is the spirit, which Joshua is able to diffuse into and throughout the record; its emotionalism and realism wrapped up in a “wonky funk” beat. In fact, the “ping-ponging” featured throughout the record is arguably the strongest aspect of the record – Joshua dives into the London instrumental dark-wave on tracks like “Blue Wine” and pulling back into a vocally driven, more contemporary R&B groove on “Girlfriend.” In a sense, NAO has managed to make ping-ponging, flip flopping, etc., an art.

While the album more than exceeds all expectation linked to Joshua’s NAO initiative, a single track manages to rise above the rest - primarily for the wholly unique production of A.K. Paul melded with Joshua’s vocal chops - “Trophy.” The track features the compressed guitar sounds that have become tenants of both A.K. and his brother Jai, lending heavy funk bass that allows Joshua to go to town with one of her most impassioned vocal journeys on the entire record. It’s the assurance that NAO can appeal to both sides of the R&B listening-coin; she can innovate and pay homage all in the same song. In reality, For All We Know as a whole is Joshua’s confident assurance of such a fact, she can play the R&B genre both ways – with precision and uniqueness that have gone predominantly unseen. Joshua as NAO can take on either end of the spectrum, maintaining her standing amongst the FKA Twigs and Audra Days of the world; she truly is the queen of wonky funk. 

Diane Coffee's Shaun Fleming Learns He Has a Spotify Page and Explains Why 'Everybody's A Good Dog'

Panache and personality are two things that Shaun Fleming has in spades. Following earlier stints as a Disney voice actor and Foxygen drummer, his near three year run as Diane Coffee has seen him and his Good Dogs cover a lot of ground and challenge a lot of conceptions. Fleming is a performer at his core, but his approach to the consciousness should be noted as well - a beguiling sort of romanticism with a hint of jocularity - he's a new age amalgamation of David Bowie, Kevin Barnes, Prince, and Meatloaf, but with his own psychedelic sensibilities. Diane Coffee's live sets precede the band's reputation (arguably one of the best live bands on the tour circuit), and Transverso spoke with Fleming before he embarked upon yet another journey of "a lot of peace, a lot of love, a lot of happiness, and a lot of costume changes" this summer tour.

Diane Coffee, 'Everybody's a Good Dog' out September 4th on Western Vinyl Created by Blockhouse Films (http://blockhouse.media/) and Melinda Danielson Director: Andy Beargie Director of Photography: Kevin Winkler 1st AC: Zac Canale 2nd AC: Graham Singleton Editors: Kevin Winkler Zac Canale Andy Beargie Casting and Costume Design: Melinda Danielson Producers: Andy Beargie Melinda Danielson iTunes: hyperurl.co/khcay4 Amazon: amzn.com/B00YW5R4M6 WV: westernvinyl.com/shop/wv132.php Diane Coffee Artist Page http://westernvinyl.com/artists/diane-coffee Website https://www.dianecoffee.com/ Facebook https://www.facebook.com/dianecoffeeband Twitter https://twitter.com/dianecoffee1 Instagram https://instagram.com/shaunfleming/ LYRICS: How can I help you?

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TRANSVERSO: How are you enjoying the last day before kicking off your tour in Lexington tomorrow?

SHAUN FLEMING: I’m doing alright man, [it's] nice hanging out in the backyard. I’m in Bloomington, Indiana. We actually have a couple days off, so I’m just hanging out at home - I’ve been living here for close to three years now.

How do you like it?

I love it man! I really, really love it. It's definitely a lot different than New York/LA, and all of those other places. But it’s a great spot, it's really cool.

I’ve heard it’s a great spot, there’s a lot of cool music up there – yourself included.

Yeah man!

So Diane Coffee is a singular name, but you play with a backing band – I think you’ve referred to them as The Good Dogs.

Oh yeah, yeah. They’re my Good Dogs.

So do they make Diane Coffee a full-blown solo act that happens to have a backing band, or do you consider it to be more of a collective entity?

Um, Yes. [Laughs] It’s a little bit of both, you know? Diane Coffee – the name is kind of a way to put a label on a feeling. It's that feeling that I get – and a lot of people get – when I’m performing. Its that performance element. It's that same kind of person and you're at a show – maybe you’re quiet at home, but then you’re in that element where that sort of voodoo comes over you and you just start singing at the top of your lungs, moving and grooving. Its that, and it just so happens that [Diane Coffee] is the name I’ve given it. It's something that I’ve definitely embodied, but its also The Good Dogs, we’re all for Diane Coffee, and the audience at a show, they’re Diane Coffee, we’re all Diane Coffee.

Do you ever have shows where people come up to you after a set having expected someone other than who you are?

I mean, not so much any more. There were a lot of people who came when we first started playing that came and were like “Oh, my friend told me to come and see this band and I thought it was going to be some female lounge singer,” but, not so much any more. I mean, band names aren’t really that important – at least to me – they’re usually all pretty bad, including mine. I mean, even The Beatles – that’s just a stupid pun – it's like it doesn’t matter, because they’re made fantastic music, and that at the end of the day is what I think is the most important thing. I mean [The Beatles] could have gotten away with anything at this point. But so not that much any more because we’ve been around long enough to where we’ve gained enough of a reputation that people come in knowing the whole deal.

What can you tell me about Harem Scare ‘Em?

Whoa… Whoa dude! Good on you! Good on you doing your research! [Laughs] Harem Scare ‘Em, that’s my very first – I’ll call it a band, but we were like a cover band. We had one or two originals that we tried, but they were just really, really bad, so we just decided to not do that. So it was high school, and we had a talent show coming up, and we were all like “Hey, we all play music, let’s play the show!” But I could barely play the guitar, so I was just front man vibes. We did [The Beatles'] “I Want You (She’s So Heavy),” and we won the talent show. Our principal was like this old hippie, and he was like [imitating voice] “Yeah, we’d love have you do a whole concert of this stuff!” So we were like “Oh god! Okay!” So we learned like an hour of all sorts of – pretty much, we were like a Beatles, Pink Floyd, and Jimi Hendrix cover band – so many things. We did like a 27-minute Beatles medley, which was insane and quite an accomplishment at the time. So we did that, and it was fun, and we were like “the high school band” and it's continued on, and whenever we’re all in town together today we’ll just go to a bar and book a show as Harem Scare ‘Em and do like three hours of covers. It's great, man. I love those guys. Actually, the guitar player’s dad, is the one who arranged all the strings for [Everybody’s a Good Dog]. Steve Hansen is his name. It was great man. It was really cool to work with him, and just kind of have more family connections. I mean, it’s a family album [laughs]. Yeah, so that’s Harem Scare ‘Em – those guys are all great, and they’re just some of the best musicians I’ve ever met.

I noticed on your Spotify profile you only follow three artists – Isaac Hayes, The Isley Brothers, and The Miracles…

I have a Spotify profile!?

You do! And it says that you just follow Isaac Hayes, The Isely Brothers, and The Miracles.

That sounds about right.

Would you count those three as inspirations in some way to how Diane Coffee came about?

Well, I mean yeah, but I’d also count countless others. I mean, I’m influenced by everything that I hear, even if I don’t like it. It's like that would be something that I wouldn’t do, and that’s the only way I would be influenced by that. [Laughs] I mean those guys are definitely… I don’t know why. I don’t really use Spotify all that much, mainly just because my phone is kind of broken – my headphone jack is broken on my phone. I’ve been like listening to CDs in my car, which is cool. So I don’t really use Spotify, and I never really got into it that much, but I know I had to make one for some little promos for Spotify, so I had to have one. We’re kind of veering off point, but yeah, definitely those guys are influences, but I think some bigger influences for this project would be people like Sam Cooke, Diana Ross, people like Prince and Meatloaf and Bowie and The Beatles; these big people who have these really big stage shows and were very flamboyant and broad. I mean, I come from a heavy theatrical background, like a lot of musical theatre and stage shows and I did a lot of improv comedy, so I like a lot of that in performance – theatrics – and that’s something I really wanted at the start of this project. It's just sort of me in general too, it's not like its something that I can just stop doing.

So your stage presence - which is unparalleled in a lot of ways – is that inherent then? Almost kind of conditioned to be theatrical?

Yeah, I don’t know if its been conditioned… that’s the age old question like “Are you born this way or did you come up and figure it out?” I’ve always been wanting to put on little shows and get dressed up and put on my mom’s clothes and all that. Then I sort of came out of my shell in high school, as far as performing in public and I joined a lot of theatre classes and all that. So I don’t know if its always been that way. Wanting to perform and be flamboyant like that has always kind of been something has been a part of my life that I’ve never really gotten to have just free reign and kind of do whatever I really wanted to do until now. [Laughs] I want to make it as big as I can with the means that I have at this point.

Directed & Animated by: Danny Lacy VHS Effects by: Tristan Wheeler http://www.dannydlacy.com http://vevo.ly/YS90Ea

Moving from the live set to the recorded and production side of your music – between your two records, My Friend Fish seems to explore darker musical tones through a lighter narrative lens while Everybody’s a Good Dog almost does the opposite, in the sense that it tackles more complex narrative themes but with a happier disposition. Is that a product of having more time to figure out what Diane Coffee is?

Yeah! Wow! Man, I really like the way you put that! That’s great! I’ve always kind of thought of these two records in the same way. You know, I don’t know if its intentional with that first record – I was kind of in a dark place, just being sick and in new surroundings, just being alone; so that’s kind of how that all came about. But lyrically its still pretty light. But with My Friend Fish I didn’t really know that I was doing a record. It was really quick, and it was more like I was just making songs to kill time. But with [Everybody’s a Good Dog] I got more time to keep thinking about the structure, though for me, [lyrics] are the very, very last thing I do. I always write the lyrics like the day before I put them down.

So, I mean, it's kind of weird – for me I don’t really go into it with an idea, I just kind of go into it with a feeling of the song, and the melody will kind of tell me what the song is about. Then I might kind of have a phrase that’s floating in my head and the whole thing will come from that one little phrase. I just think knowing that I was putting out this record, I wanted to just take a little more time and reflect a little bit more, and figure some more of what you said, more complex narratives. It's kind of hard to say why exactly that happened that way, too. It was just sort of the place I was when this record came out.

That makes total sense. On the same kick – I’ve always been interested in what the process is when someone is laying out the tracklist for a record, particularly the first and final tracks as possible “statements.” Did that notion come to mind when choosing “Spring Breathes” to open Everybody’s a Good Dog and then closing it with “Not That Easy?”

You know, I do like to spend a whole lot of time picking out the order of how these songs are going to appear on the record, but “Spring Breathes” sort of came to me… It's funny, it's like the only song that this has ever really happened to, it actually came to me – that whole intro - it came to me in a dream. I woke up, and I have the funniest voice memo recording of me kind of stumbling through in the middle of the night where I was trying to sing what was going on in my head and like how the song was going to go like [whispering] “Oh yeah, and then it's going to change and it's going to really fast, and then at this point its going to Latin sounding,” you know, [laughs] it was really weird. So I knew that that song – just because of all the changes and just how it was structured – it wouldn’t really fit anywhere else in the record. It kind of had to be first or be last, and that song is definitely kind of about starting over again, and kind of asking yourself these questions about whether or not you’re – in this case its about falling love, again, and whether or not you are in the right place to have another relationship, especially given your career or anything else that may be in your life. And that was kind of the same thing with “Not That Easy,” which was kind of accepting that you are always going to be coming home, and you’re going to have an atypical relationship. So in that way, those two made sense as the very beginning and very end of this huge journey for the record to come that kind of understanding.

It seems like a positive prospect at the beginning – it doesn’t necessarily become negative – but it's certainly more spectral gazing in a sense at the end.

Yeah, for sure. I mean there are bunch of songs that… The record is loosely – there are a few tracks that maybe have slightly differing themes, but for the most part, this record is kind of about examining me personally. My love life, my relationships, entangled with my career, and both things I don’t want to live without. So it's very hard, because they both take up an incredible amount of time and energy, and I don’t want to sacrifice any time on either. You know what I mean?

Oh yeah, absolutely.

And it's something that everyone – it doesn’t matter if they’re doing something else – experiences; there’s almost always going to be something they really love that does the same thing. I’d love to say that I would give everything up for either thing, but its just not true.

I’m sure that’s far more relevant than you could possibly fathom.

[Laughs] I think a lot of people go through that, be it artists, or anyone whose maybe got a hobby that takes up a lot of their time.

I wholeheartedly agree. As far as bookending tacks are concerned – “Hymn” and “Green” on My Friend Fish is one of my favorite beginning/ending pairings on a record.

Thanks man! [Laughing/fake yelling] You’re damn right! You’re damn right!

So with the theatrical inspirations for your live set – you’re a very snappy dresser on stage.

Thank you.

Of course. I assume the background in theatre plays some sort of role in that facet of your live set?

Oh yeah, sure! As far as all the theatrics on stage, I’ve been working a lot with my partner, Melinda Danielson – she goes by Nature’s Whether. She pretty much designs all those costumes. She’s kind of a jack-of-all-trades. You know it sounds kind of bad to say “well she’s just an artist,” you know what I mean? But its true, she does a lot of sort of performance art stuff and then she also does design work for me, and I work very closely with her when we’re coming up with themes for these shows. Like this last one, where I was in this gold costume – and we finally retired that one – but that was all about battling with the masculine and feminine archetypes and halfway through you shed and open up. She pretty much put that whole thing together. So that’s something that we can both do together, and how we both sort of share our artwork. We can both be working, but also have a fun time when we get together. I love what she does. So it's really, really fun to be able to work with someone you love, or with family.

I bet. I’d figure it probably helps further solidify the relationships, in a sense.

Yeah! I don’t know if you knew this, but we did this tour with of Montreal, and David [Barnes, Kevin Barnes’ brother] does all of the costuming and stuff; he’s kind of in charge of that whole world. It's like Kevin’s music and David is art.

Right. Yeah, I saw you guys on that tour.

Yeah man, that was so great. Those guys are so much fun. I love them to death. So that’s really cool that they’re both able to do that – it's like a family affair. So that’s kind of what I’m trying to do with Melinda.

Awesome. I don’t want to try and pull any spoilers or anything – but what can people expect this time around in terms of thematic elements?

You know, this time around – it's still really in the early stages – we wanted to try and get one more thing for summer, but its been hard because we’ve been out on the road so much, so its hard to find time to work something completely new. But the idea behind this new one is that we’re kind of sailors exploring the ethos and we crash land on this crazy island, and we start to learn. It's about acceptance and being able to understand someone else’s culture or ideals and be able to really dive headfirst into that. It's basically like walking in someone else’s shoes. So it's kind of like a journey of discovery and acceptance [laughs] that’s kind of the long and short of it, but still trying to work it out.

Down to the eleventh hour it sounds like.

Yeah, it's like when you’re trying to work out a new song on the road – the only time you have to really practice is like the 10 minutes you have during sound check – so it's like you’re just “I’m going to keep doing this. Maybe it's not ready yet, but I’m going to keep running through it. No we have to fix that, we’ll have to do it tomorrow.” So you’re kind of adding more as you go along, and hopefully it really pans out, but its fun. We ran a version of it just the other night, and it was pretty fun. It gets the audience interaction and it's pretty cool. Its going to be this sort of ever-evolving show; it keeps us on our toes.

So what should we expect from the tour this summer?

It's going to be a journey. A lot of peace, a lot of love, a lot of happiness, and a lot of costume changes.

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Everybody's A Good Dog is out now via Western Vinyl. See Diane Coffee tour dates here.