R E S T A U R A N T P O L L B A L L O T P . 4 6 - The Austin Chronicle

HARLEMHippies (Matador)Go ahead and judge Harlem’s Hippies by itscover. Two models are dolled up and disguisedas the local trio’s co-founders, Curtis O’Maraand Michael Coomer, in a barren garage or livingroom. The Tucson transplants are the slackerantithesis of Lennon/McCartney, occasionally outof tune but never out of sync. O’Mara/Coomersplit songwriting credits and instrumentation onHarlem’s Matador debut, and the synergy fromthat balancing act makes for a far more intricateand engaging listen than 2008’s introductory FreeDrugs. Coomer’s punkish sneer suits his morevindictive narratives, like the hipster runoff “Spray Paint,” aided by bassist Jose Boyer’sspy-movie bassline, and the lo-fi Memphis soul of opener “Someday Soon,” which managesto hit a sweet spot even as he croons: “Someday soon you’ll be on fire, and you’llask me for a glass of water. I’ll say, ‘No, you can just let that shit burn.’” Such momentsare immediately offset by O’Mara’s more romantic paeans: the fuzz-pop perfection of“Friendly Ghost,” 1960s girl-group swooning “Number One,” and spirited rave-up “TortureMe.” It’s not that Coomer doesn’t have a soft spot (check bubblegum bop “Be Your Baby”and K Records heartbreaker “Cloud Pleaser”), it just comes with a catch and/or gets lostin analog distortion, as in “Gay Human Bones,” which practically unplugs Nirvana. Harlemexcels, though, when the two frontmen play to each other’s strengths. O’Mara stretchesa syllable like it’s his last dollar for the opening refrain of “Tila and I,” while the latter providesthe resolution in the back to mono retread “Three Legged Dog,” and Harlem locksin a classic trio power for the maximum R&B of “Stripper Sunset” and “Scare You.” Withdrunken charm and incessant jangle, Hippies may be Harlem’s slop-pop consummation.– Austin PowellMOTHER FALCONStill LifeCredited with 15 memberson this debut five-song outing,including four violins and threecellos, Mother Falcon has risento the forefront of the local youthmovement with good reason, thegeneration of hand X-ers deliveringrichly ensembled pop that proves envelopingand dynamic. Multi-instrumentalist Nick Greggleads the formation with a gently fluxing tenorthat barbs against Claire Puckett’s contrast,the two tentatively flirting through verses onopener “Marigold” atop a bed of lush strings.“Is this love, I don’t know, but tonight I’m goingto find out,” they close in harmony, rivalingcountry mile BY MARGARET MOSERLocal country releases havebeen cropping up recently like thisyear’s bounty of bluebonnets bythe roadside, and not a thundercloudin sight. No question thatMicky & the Motorcars knowtheir audience: the 2-CD/1-DVDLive at Billy Bob’s Texas capturestheir fine, dance-floor Americanabalanced by good taste in covers(Warren Zevon’s “Lawyers, Guns& Money”). Somewhere along thatwell-trod country-rock highway isEleven Hundred Springs’ ThisCrazy Life. That’s just the CDand a song title, because thisbrand of crowd-pleasing countrypacks dance-floor rhythms forthe blue-collar crowd (“GreatAmerican Trainwreck”) thatdreamed of something a little better.The Flatcar Rattlers knowtheir end of the road well, havingturned somewhere near theintersection of the Gourds andBad Livers. The band’s latest,Which Side Are You On?, boastskiller artwork and unadornedlove for punk-inspired bluegrassin 14 tracks (“The Day Ol’ AveryDied,” “Cannon Fodder”). ThatCD positions itself nicely withMike Runnels’ pure country onThe Tender Years (Lucky Penny),tender-hearted two-step anthemswith the occasional border flavor(“Just Say So Baby”) from aveteran of Austin’s original punkscene, plus stalwarts that includeHerb Steiner on steel. The homemadelook of Long Hard Roadand the unvarnished sound of theRedneck Boys make this recordseem like a lost cosmic cowboygem, complete with Stonesy nods(“The Sheets”) and no-frills vocals58 T H E A U S T I N C H R O N I C L E APRIL 9, 2010 a u s t i n c h r o n i c l e . c o mStars in sentiment and sound.“Tokyo Rose” floats in AndrewBird’s draft, while “Her RadiantLimb” flaps flurried movementsthat would benefit from more thanthree minutes. “To Mama” is rightfullygiven more room to expand itsairy swoon, and five-minute closer“Faint Green Light” courts chamberfolk in charming swells. Credit the Canadian collectivesfor sure, but for all the touchstones ofBroken Social Scene and Arcade Fire, Austin’sfollowed suit suavely with a homegrown indieorchestral wave from the likes of the NoiseRevival Orchestra to the Tiny Tin Hearts. MotherFalcon may outsoar them all.– Doug Freeman“stone country as a country mile.”They drawl with the authenticityof front-line veterans. Reviewedin these pages during South bySouthwest, it bears repeatingthat with It’s About Dam Time,Marshall Ford Swing Banddemonstrates the two thingsalmost guaranteed to keep it PERFECT GREAT GOOD MEDIOCRE COASTERCARRIERODRIGUEZLove andCircumstance(Ninth StreetOpus)Love andCircumstance– the title soundingsuspiciouslylike the retort to a Dylan disc – is a cannymove for Carrie Rodriguez’s third tripdown the studio aisle. It positions her asa country darling in the comfort of coverspulled up tightly around her chin, patchworkstories by Lucinda Williams (“StealYour Love”), Julie and Buddy Miller (“WideRiver to Cross”), Townes Van Zandt (“Rex’sBlues”), Richard Thompson (“Waltzing’s forDreamers”), and Merle Haggard (“I StartedLoving You Again”). Since leaving her successfulduo with Chip Taylor, Rodriguezhasn’t ventured far from the safety of thealt.country path, even when exploring differentgenres. One of Love and Circumstance’smany highlights is Rodriguez’s voice, alwaysa delight and even more pleasurable nowthat years of touring and recording havegiven it a velvety depth and luminousnuance. It’s also her best weapon infighting the trap of covers, making HankWilliams’ “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry”throb anew, the sweet familial touch ofher father’s arrangement of the traditional“When I Heard Gypsy Davy Sing” resound,and yearning “La Puñalada Trapera” getunder your skin. Carrie Rodriguez’s careermakingrecording has yet to be made, butwhen it hits, Love and Circumstance will becited in its genealogy. (Carrie Rodriguezplays the Cactus Cafe two nights,Friday & Saturday, April 16-17.)– Margaret Moserafloat in a muddy sea of country:Emily Gimble and Emily Gimble.The members’ unabashed lovefor pure string swing and itsjazzy twang is all the right stuff,but Gimble’s charming vocalsand honky-tonk piano are as sublimeas the sunsets of Texas inthe spring.texas plattersfreak beatRalph White’slatest, TheMongrel’s Hoard(Monofonus),proves yet againyou can stretch thelimits of Americanaif you’re resourcefulenough. Theonetime BadLiver’s approachto writing and performinghas alwaysbeen workmanlike,and with banjo,kalimba, accordion,and fiddle, hemakes good use ofdecades of material.The one originaltune, “WesternCountry,” is pureWhite lament, butthe remainder isall covers: PinkFloyd’s “Fat OldSun” and BlindLemon Jefferson’s“See That MyGrave Is KeptClean” ride nextto 1970s folkie Barbara Keith’s “TheBramble and the Rose” and obscureAborigine band Coloured Stone’s “WhenI’m Gonna Learn.” It’s a testamentto White’s talents that he can makethem sound even older than they are.(CD release: Tuesday, April 13, UnitedStates Art Authority.) The Mongrel’sHoard-er makes a few appearanceson Shawn David McMillen’s latest,Dead Friends (Tompkins Square), lendingbackwoods charm to SDM’s drowsyfolk visions. Dead Friends follows up2006’s majestic Catfish, and in theinterim, McMillen’s fine-tuned his brainbombs. “Night Train” is akin to sleepwalkingthrough a desert, feedbackand piano flowing into the more sedate“A Morning With Dead Friends.” Bookof Shadows, now a quintet, knows athing or two about balance and ambience.Its latest, The Morphail Effect(Instincto), combines ghostly incantationswith long stretches of drone, theaural equivalent of a morphine drip.To snap you out of your trance, there’sPong’s newest, Escobarb (Realistic).The veteran dance-party-starters’disco-punk makes another one of itsdiscombobulated lunar landings, theresult still distinctly Austin – which isto say, weird. “Applesauce” soundslike a lost Prince song, or one of hisbackup dancers. – Audra Schroeder