Author: awoostockholm

september treats

oh my giddy aunt. this september has been excellent, not just for collecting chestnuts and watching rain push yellow leaves off tree branches from a top-floor library window, but also for piling new songs into playlists to get through winter.

🍂☔

phoebe

phoebe bridgers‘s brilliant debut album stranger in the alps paints ghosts on people and sinks hooks into sad words, flinging them across a pale blue sky as bait for clouds. particularly lovely winter company are “funeral” (every time she sings “and that’s just how i feel”, a cinnamon bun could die of sadness), “would you rather” (with conor oberst on the other side of the tin can telephone), and the mark kozelek cover “you missed my heart”.

cat

cat stevens/yusuf‘s the laughing apple makes references to songs from the olden days such as “if you want to sing out” in “you can do (whatever)!” and contains a jagged, beautiful new version of his 1960s “blackness of the night”. this is yusuf like i remember cat stevens. especially lovely with plum crumble: “grandsons”, “mighty peace”, and “i’m so sleepy”.

vasa

vasas flora och fauna‘s veneziansk afton is more dancable than their debut släkt med lotta svärd but still cheerfully delivers finnlandswedish lost-in-the-neighborhood observations with lines such as “we buy your old things”, “must one have a name, i’d rather not be called anything”. preferred dusk stroll soundtrack: “vi köper era gamla saker”, “egnahemshus”, and “min förtvivlan”.

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and, although it’s technically not out until november, you can already order jeff hilson‘s latanoprost variations, which, with kite-string poems about moth art garfunkel’s head of troubled hair, finding a robert plant, unsolicited music recommendations, full stops and eye drops, is another hibernation treat.

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stockholm clouds | gaelynn lea

grace pic

gaelynn lea makes music with violin-loops and kindness, “under the influence of coffee.” her vocals grow lyrics fierce as weeds, swaying awesomely like ocean waves. she’s also a disability rights activist.

after having been introduced to her music when she won npr’s tiny desk contest with “someday we’ll linger in the sun” in 2016, i was dead excited to see her play at the windmill in brixton, london, on 23rd august 2017. and oh my days. accompanied by dave mehling, gaelynn played fiddle tunes as well as her own songs, such as “watch the world unfold“, “someday we’ll linger in the sun”, “let it go“, and “grace and a tender hand”, which walked broad smiles across my face. her protest song advocating for disability rights was brilliant, their neutral milk hotel cover great craic, and the birdsong singalong with the audience was beautiful and lasted forever. though not as long as in kilkenny, where people would not stop singing, she said.

in between their london gigs, i asked gaelynn and dave to come out and play. it turns out that dave collects facts on their tour; his encyclopedia includes information on the bee population in amsterdam and borrowed grass for a george washington statue in london. and gaelynn not only drew us the picture above to go with the song, but she also believes that instead of becoming grown-ups, “everyone’s a work in progress.” here are these lovely human beings playing “grace and a tender hand” in hoxton square:

“grace and a tender hand” will be on gaelynn lea’s upcoming album, which will be released in autumn 2018. you can support it via gofundme over here. until that album comes out, we have gaelynn’s 7″ “all changing tides”, out on 10th november 2017, to look forward to.

🌻🎶🌿

concert: conor oberst ♫ phoebe bridgers ♫ miwi la lupa

i had good reasons to look forward to seeing conor oberst‘s gig at the london palladium on 1st february 2017. his latest album ruminations, released in october 2016, caught me off-guard with its shaky basement sounds, lonesome insomniac vocals, lines like “everything ends / everything has to”, “i’m worn gossamer thin” and “i don’t mind my head when there’s room to dream”, and just a guitar, harmonica, and piano. it was like emotional time-travel: it felt as important to me as fevers & mirrors did when i was a teenager.

gig3

so i went into this gig with high hopes and, oh my giddy aunt, i left exuberant. also because of the musicians conor brought along. miwi la lupa, whom conor introduced as his best bud and omaha roommate, hung a cold moon from the ceiling. phoebe bridgers just about killed me singing radiant songs about smoke signals, funerals, and not feeling anything with her rainy day voice.

i am not surprised that, as conor said, omaha labels are arguing who gets to put out her upcoming debut album. the musical respect he expressed for her is mutual – she said she had some friends in the audience whom she would not introduce to conor, for they know how much of a bright eyes fan she was and still is – to prove her point, she covered “bad blood” (and owned it!). miwi accompanied conor throughout, beautifully and affectionately.  gig2for a bit, there was a harmonica assistant with a fish bowl. and oh, all the songs. especially “gossamer thin” (in which “read poetry” became “sipping tea”), “counting sheep”, “lenders in the temple”, “you all loved him once” (which conor said was about lennon, jesus, “fill in the fucking blank”), “the ladder song”, and a cover of  the replacements’ “here comes a regular” which his brother taught him when he was about 12. and then phoebe joined miwi and conor for “lua” (luckily for you someone caught this and shared it online). they also covered “jack at the asylum” by the felice brothers (whose music makes conor happy, he said, and less embarrassed about being from america*). i nearly had a heart attack it was so lovely to hear these three together.

gig1

not only had i gotten what i came for, and been introduced to new favourite songs and musicians, but then conor and miwa also ended on “the big picture” – which i had never heard live – and “at the bottom of everything”. with conor screaming his heart out and all. boy, was i happy. when the lights came on and the canned music set in, it was like being kicked out of the only place you feel at home.

p.s. on march 17, saluations, a companion album to ruminations, will be released. it features full band versions of the ruminations songs and seven additional songs. gillian welch and maria taylor are on it, too!

*at one point, conor apologised for trump and noted that it’s the same story everywhere, racism, xenophobia, islamophobia, sexism all crawling about. although he was inclined to hide under his bed, he said, if we all stand up, “they can’t fuck with us”. and maybe stand up with the kind of lovely community feeling that was evident in all the hand-holding and hugs between the three musicians throughout the night (conor even, if perhaps jokingly, told miwi “holding your hand in vienna meant so much to me” – aw!). and, while conor seemed embarassed by his country, he also said that “it’s where the felice brothers are from” so it can’t be all bad.

leonard cohen afterworld

when i was about fifteen, i fell for the line “give me a leonard cohen afterworld, so i can sigh eternally” in nirvana’s “pennyroyal tea“. i asked pa whether he had any leonard cohen albums – he said no but i did find a best of leonard cohen cassette tape in his shelves. and oh. i played it over and over. on a class trip i made my friends listen to it on a walkman. i used the line “we are ugly but we have the music” in an english exam in school. i made friends with so many lines in leonard cohen’s songs. so much so that when someone says “new york is cold”, i can’t help saying “but i like where i’m living“. i learned “hey, that’s no way to say goodbye” on the ukulele with one friend and have sung it with many others since. i read beautiful losers and book of longing, not always following but always inspired. and inspired by the places he went, too. turning from literature to music in his thirties, living in a monastry in his sixties, going on tour again in his seventies.

considering how long he’d been around for, i never thought i’d be able to see leonard cohen play anywhere. until i did. once on my own in stockholm in 2008. i cried and laughed, especially during “tower of song” (you’ll hear some of the wonderful audience giggles, as well as a leonard cohen secret, in this video). and shaking with excitement and surprise at hearing “suzanne” and “avalanche” and “take this waltz” and “the partisan” and “heart with no companion” and “famous blue raincoat” and basically almost every song that means the world to me (look, what a setlist!). leonard cohen also charmingly spoke of walking through stockholm earlier in the day and finding that everyone was taller and more handsome than himself. and in that moment, it was difficult to believe anyone could be. and then i saw him again, with my parents, in berlin in 2010, where he even sang “chelsea hotel” and “lover lover lover” and literally skipped across the stage with such delight that we were all love.

it is awfully sad to lose leonard cohen. 2016, you really have gone too far. but there is so much to remember, to read, to look at, and to listen to. like this lovely bittersweet two pints story on leonard cohen by roddy doyle, this picture of amanda palmer, and these words by first aid kit. like leonard cohen’s last album you want it darker, which is a fine companion for getting lost and finding cracks where light gets in.

we are lonely but we have the music ♥