In Our Culture (See what I did there?)

12:42 AM

Contrary to popular belief, Jose Gonzalez isn’t the lead singer of my favorite mariachi band (I don’t have a favorite mariachi band, but if you know any, please feel free to share them with me). No, Jose Gonzalez is instead a Swedish-Argentinian singer-songwriter who would definitely have a spot in a VIP booth if indie-folk was a nightclub and not a genre. Basically, if I had a bracket for the indie championships, Jose could crack the Final Four without a doubt. But enough about musical basketball and more about In Our Nature, which is Gonzalez’s sophomore album. You may be asking yourself why you should give a shit about this album, but fret not, I’m here to tell you exactly why. Gonzalez’s In Our Nature has all the elements of a standard indie-folk album, with all of its buzzing guitar strings, intimate and breathy melodies, and the occasional, yet still very subtle backing vocals. And yet, Gonzalez takes what we all already knew he was good at and turns it into an examination and critique of the political climate and culture at the time (the time was 2007, which if you’ve forgotten how old you are, George W. Bush was still our president, the final Harry Potter book was published, and the first iPhone came out). In Our Nature doesn’t attempt to be particularly profound or make some American flag-burning type of political statement, and yet in its subtlety, it does just that. So with that being said, let’s break it down.
Gonzalez kicks the album off with a bang, with the track “How Low.” The opening line begs the questions, “How low are you willing to go/Before you reach all your selfish goals/Punch line after punch line/Leaving us sore, leaving us sore.” Now because this is indie music we’re talking about, the lyrics definitely leave much up to our own various interpretations, however Gonzalez then goes on to mention, “Feeding a monster, just feeding a monster/This means war, this means war.” There are two paths that I think Gonzalez chooses to take with this first track, as he both denounces the art of war, as well as the war that we are currently still embroiled in, and also takes a shot at the mindless consumerism of our society. “How Low” is purely a lamentation about human selfishness and how it’s almost inescapable to act on said selfishness. The lyric, “Feeding a monster, just feeding a monster,” is the perfect metaphor for the two scenarios that Gonzalez works to paint, with us as consumers being the monsters, but with our government also being the monsters. The funny thing about this song is that it applied so well to the time that it was released in, and yet, still applies almost perfectly nine years later. Gonzalez croons, “All the gullible that you mislead/Won’t be up for it,” and “Where to, will you relocate/Now that it’s war, now that it’s war.” Again, contrary to popular belief, I’m not an analyst for CNN, but I think our society is very much the ‘gullible’ in the situation, as many people believed we entered the war for reasons different than we actually did. And now that 2016 has brought upon the beginning of what I’m convinced is the apocalypse, where will we go, now that it’s war? Gonzalez hates the ugliness of war, something that’s made clear with “How Low.”
            You can’t talk about culture without religion, and similarly enough, sometimes you can’t talk about indie-folk without it either. Early American folk music was rooted in sort of fire and brimstone notions, with religious references running rampant through the genre. This trickled on down to its little brother indie-folk, which Gonzalez is sure to remind us of with “Abram.” The sixth track on the album is a clear shot at religion, with Gonzalez proclaiming, “Abram, either wake up or go to bed/You’re sleepwalking with a delirious head/You were programmed a long, long time ago/Your stories are old, old and your acclimation slow.” Besides the blatant reference to religion with the name ‘Abram’ (you can trace all three major religions back to Abraham and his squad), Gonzalez allures to the fact that he doesn’t believe the Bible story to be relevant anymore, but rather a tool for oppression and conflict. With the line “Not much of what you say makes sense/Cook up some myths then ask for obedience,” Gonzalez is saying that the stories and teachings of the Bible don’t match up to our current day and age, and that we as a society, tend to blindly follow these teachings, despite the repercussions. Take a look at the world’s conflicts now and you’ll find that many of them are rooted in differences in regards to religion. The conflict in the Middle East. The conflict in Sudan. The Islamophobia in the United States. The song itself is based on a non-fiction book that basically denounces religion as a “delusion,” and Gonzalez himself is an atheist, but I think the song captures the problems with religion in a way that is both powerful and beautifully subtle as well. In the way the album beckons us to take a better look at society as a whole, “Abram” beckons us to listen closely to truly get the message.
            And while we’re on the subject of religion, let’s take a look at the titular track, “In Our Nature,” because you guys know I love a good title track. The opening line of the song, “It’s in our nature,” is repeated several times throughout the song and all I can think right away is original sin. If you’re picking up what the Bible is putting down, original sin, or human’s darker impulses towards evil, is the reason why our world today is such a shit show. Gonzalez follows up these opening lines with, “Put down your sword/Send home your dogs/Open your doors/Lower your guard.” Here, Gonzalez pleads with the audience that despite the fact that we’re born with this inner evil, everyone should just chill and love each other. So, even though we as a society may be inherently bad, it’s also possible not to be that way. This, to me, is a blatant response to our culture, and American culture to be even more specific. Our current society is one that almost inspires the innate selfishness that we all supposedly possess, and Gonzalez works to highlight that, asks us to push it aside, and just love each other.

            If you look up reviews of Gonzalez’s sophomore effort, you’ll note a lot of critics saying that though it’s good, it’s basically a clone of his debut album, Veneer. Unfortunately, this does hold true sonically (don’t worry Jose, you’re still in my Final Four), however, In Our Nature asks so much more of us as listeners with its message being littered with both political and religious reform. Even under the “prettiness” of the album, you hear more passion and more of a sense of urgency from Gonzalez than anything we get in Veneer. In Our Nature isn’t the right album for a cold listen, but rather one that you have to warm up to in order to receive everything it has to offer.

Sam Beam: The Kingpin

10:11 AM



 They say that every kingdom needs a king, and luckily for the kingdom of indie folk, Sam Beam is here to reign. Sam Beam, the voice behind Iron & Wine, has all the ingredients you need to bake a fantastic indie folk cake and we’re going to talk about why. But first, you may be asking yourselves, what is indie folk? Isn’t that what my neighbor with the man bun and Birkenstock collection listens to on his vintage record player? Well, yes, but there’s a little more to it than that. See, the name ‘indie music’ doesn’t actually have anything to do with what the music sounds like but actually with how it’s made. On its hypothetical birth certificate, indie music actually goes by the moniker independent music, referencing the fact that it’s produced independently from the big-wig commercial record labels. Of course, now the term ‘indie’ more demarcates a musical style that varies from the Top 40 mush that attempts to burst my eardrums through the car stereo as I drive to class. But anyways, back to indie folk. Indie folk is actually a few things, but it’s mainly a concoction of modern folk music, with a little bit of rock thrown in, and maybe even some country if you listen closely. Think American roots music but with a lot less banjo and hillbillies in cutoff overalls. Indie folk tends to be acoustic in nature, is usually very melodic, and usually tends to tell a story. You can’t talk about the genre without mentioning our dear friend singer-songwriter Sam Beam and his band Iron & Wine, who give us all the acoustic guitar, provocative and ambiguous lyrics, and haunting melodies we’ve been wanting since Bob Dylan decided to make folk great again back in the late sixties. So with that being said, let’s take a look at some of Iron & Wine’s sophomore effort Our Endless Numbered Days to see why Sam Beam is God’s gift to indie.

“On Your Wings”

Speaking of God, “On Your Wings,” is a direct appeal to the big man upstairs himself, with all the right elements to make him listen. The song opens with gentle, acoustic guitar strumming (because remember this is indie folk we’re talking about) and is soon joined by Beam’s soothing voice, proclaiming, “God, there is gold hidden deep in the ground/God there’s a hangman that wants to come around.” The slide guitar makes its way into the song as well, which is an interesting touch for a song of this genre. The meaning behind the song is obvious enough, being a request for an explanation for the state of humanity and the way things are currently. The song pleads without begging and is reminiscent of indie folk royalty Nick Drake’s “Day is Done” with the way it’s tinted by sadness that is masked by smooth voices and expert guitar picking with perfect timing. If Bob Dylan and Simon & Garfunkel are what jumpstarted the whole folk movement in the sixties and seventies, Nick Drake is what kept it going in the nineties, while also making it more modern and shaping the path that indie folk is currently on. Beam’s guitar playing is what really keeps the song and album rooted in folk, with his skill emulating the Southern Gothic sound that we sometimes hear in folk music.

“Naked as We Came”

One of the most common themes that is rampant throughout this genre, is the thing that makes the world go round: love. Granted, it’s not all rainbows and butterflies all the time, like Simon & Garfunkel’s “The Dangling Conversation,” which talks of a dying relationship or Bon Iver’s For Emma, Forever Ago, which is an entire album dedicated to every break up you’ve experienced ever in life. Or on the flipside, Sufjan Steven’s Illinois, which is an entire album about his love for his home state and Bright Eyes’ “First Day of My Life,” which speaks of a man feeling born again upon meeting the love of his life. “Naked as We Came” falls more into the latter category of love songs, describing a couple that has been wholly devoted to each other until the end. Here, Beam takes some cues from another genre staple, Elliot Smith, who helped lay the groundwork down for the genre in the nineties. Though Dylan kicked off the genre by “going electric,” the nineties crew (Nick Drake, Elliot Smith, Ani DiFranco) kept it simple, with just guitars and their voices serenading us through the good and bad times.

“Sodom, South Georgia”

Even if I weren’t a Georgia native, I’m know I would still wholeheartedly enjoy this song, but since I am, I fucking love this song. This is one of the songs that solidifies Iron & Wine’s place on the indie folk timeline and makes it a stepping stone for the artists that we’ll come to hear later in the 2000s, such as Bon Iver, Father John Misty, or the Civil Wars. Even on the first listen, we know it’s an obvious representation of the genre, but when you listen closely, it becomes so much more than that. “Sodom, South Georgia” grows on the storytelling elements of indie folk that weren’t always touched on in the nineties era of the genre, and Beam brings more metaphors, more imagery, more layers, more everything to the lyrics. You can picture the small Southern town that Beam croons about with lyrics like, “All dead white boys say, ‘God is good’/White tongues hang out, ‘God is good’,” and “Sodom, South Georgia/Slept on an acre of bones/Slept through Christmas/Slept like a bucket of snow,” and the song nails the unnerving quiet of walking through a sleepy, small town. The song touches on more common themes that we see in the genre, such as life and death, and love and loss, and like many indie folk songs that came both before and after it, it’s meant to leave the listener with something that they didn’t have before.



If you look at a timeline of the indie folk genre, you’ll see Iron & Wine fall right at the turn of the 21st century and they couldn’t have had more perfect timing. From the boldness that we got from the sixties and seventies era and the intimacy and closeness to the lyrics and the music we see in the nineties, Iron & Wine manages to take these elements and only improve upon them, solidifying themselves as game changers in the genre of indie folk.

I Forget Where We Were

12:35 PM



            Oh, the good ole sophomore album. For some artists, it reminds us fans why we even gave a shit about their music in the first place, but for others, it proves that all good things must come to an end, and that that debut album is the best we’re ever going to get. So what category does the undeclared love of my life Ben Howard fall into? I’m going to go with the former and say that Howard not only reminds fans of what they already loved about him, but also leaves them wanting even more with his sophomore follow-up I Forget Where We Were.
Even by just looking at the album cover, you can tell it’s going to be a different ball game than 2011’s Every Kingdom, with this second album’s cover featuring a shadowy picture of Howard in contrast with Every Kingdom’s bluey-green ocean background. But I think Howard’s biggest shift from his debut effort falls with the music, with Howard having gone electric. Critics like to place Howard in the “New Boring” category, especially with frequent comparisons to Ed Sheeran and Tom Odell, but I disagree. Sure, Howard’s not doing anything that hasn’t been done before but let’s be real for a second, even the most so-called “original” acts like Neon Indian or Phosphorescent are just knock-offs of someone else. I like to think that Howard belongs to what I’ve deemed the “three name club,” a club in which its members all happen to use their full name (see Benjamin Francis Leftwich, James Vincent McMorrow, and Gregory Alan Isakov for reference), and love to grace our willing ears with the sounds of just their sensitive voices and their trusty acoustic guitars. Now of course, Ben Howard is only two names (I think Benjamin John Howard could have had a nice ring to it), but in Every Kingdom, it’s mostly Howard and his guitar, just like the aforementioned above. However, in I Forget Where We Were, we get more percussion, more electric guitar, more bass, more everything. If you didn’t know any better, you might think you were hearing some early era Foals or Bloc Party, especially with tracks like “Rivers in Your Mouth” and “Small Things,” but Howard’s voice lends itself to make the music an expansion, rather than a renovation of his former sound. Fret not though you Every Kingdom loyalists, because though Howard progresses from his old sound, he does return to his acoustic picking roots with tracks like, “She Treats Me Well” and the haunting “Conrad.” Here, Howard does what every musician hopes to do with their second album, bringing in more of an audience, without alienating his OG homies.
            The sound isn’t the only thing that’s matured with IFWWW, but also the themes and the drives behind the album. While Every Kingdom graced us with a soundtrack to happily drive down the Pacific Coast Highway with not a single worry in the world, IFWWW will have you wanting to cozy up in your English cottage by the sea on a rainy day (I don’t actually have a cottage by the sea in England but I can dream, right?). The album reads like a cycle of grief, with hurt, loss, and recovery exuding through each song, and it gives the album an almost dark feel. But yet, it’s a darkness that’s peaceful and comforting and one that most certainly guarantees a light at the end of the tunnel. The album really does give off a cottage-by-the-sea feel, as if a storm is headed your way, and all you’ll have is some Earl Grey tea and a dimming fire to keep you safe. This all makes total sense though, as Howard does actually hail from a village by the sea and grew up surfing his entire life. Like Howard, the entire album is closely connected with water and every song seems to flow fluidly right into the next one, like a steady crashing of waves. The titular track “I Forget Where We Were,” as well as the final track “End of the Affair” bring not just this sea/ocean/storm feel home, but also all of the overarching themes I mentioned before.

            So can Ben Howard really do no wrong? Not exactly, because as great as IFWWW is, it lacks variety, which is a lot more important than it sounds, especially when an album clocks in at just around 55 minutes. Every Kingdom offered us something different with each track, whether it was in tempo or instrumentation, and we just don’t have that with IFWWW. Sure, it’s easy to get lost in the gloom and doom of the album, and it is one that you have to grow into rather than be wowed at upon a first listen, but as far as sophomore albums go, Ben, you done good kid.

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