I’ve been writing myself notes with a pen that plays the French National Anthem. This pen features flashing lights and has a miniature Eiffel Tower floating in glitter water. Ordinarily this is not the kind of pen I prefer but I’m making an exception because my Dad bought it for me in Paris. He also gave me pyjamas, a sleep mask and a miniature tube of toothpaste he got for free on the plane. My Dad is not very good with souvenirs but he does have his good points.

Another one of his good points is information. My Dad loves to tell me information. You could say my childhood was one long guided tour loosely divided into topics. It took an hour to drive each to way to school and back. Dad took this opportunity to provide me with information about rock’n’roll. He used to make mixtapes, sometimes by band, year, era, or music movement. It took two years of driving to school and back to get through The Beatles, their influences and their impact on popular music. The Rolling Stones, well that was another couple of years and don’t get me started on The Who or Bob Dylan.

Dad didn’t limit his lectures, with demonstration tapes, to music. I was the only kid in my school to have a good understanding of the convict architect Francis Greenway, to know that The Who didn’t want to keep smashing their guitars (their manager made them) and to have walked in the footsteps of the soldiers in the Rum Rebellion. Dad even drove me through the streets of Mount Druitt, noting the reasons why it was one of the first failed attempts at urban planning in Western Sydney.

When I think about all the places in the world Dad has been, everywhere from the corner shop to Tallinn, New York and in between, I think about the idea of him in those places. I can picture him standing on a street corner wondering about everything from architecture to music and the feet that walked through the space he’s occupying right now.

Don’t worry, my dad is nowhere near dead. He still plays in bands, goes to galleries and walks around wondering about things. I was just thinking how lucky I am to have him and his strange gift for giving information and his endless sense of wonder. He might be a bit crap at picking souvenirs but he’s the best possible tour guide to life and I don’t think it gets much better than having a solid genetic understanding of the wonder he has for the world.

The plethora of indie-folk releases saturating the musical landscape over the past few years has been overwhelming. For such a delicate genre the little bastard is proving quite resilient. 
Can’t we all just listen to Bon Iver's For Emma Forever Ago and go home? Now it seems the Belgian’s want a piece of the action too.

Isbells is an album of subtleties; anyone looking for a quick fix of feel-good pick-me-up type stuff needn't bother listening. But the rewards are there if you're willing to stick with it. The basic folk template of finger-picked guitar, warm harmonies and themes of hope within uncertainty are all present as you might expect. But the charm of this album lies in the way the band work within this limited palette; rather than these limitations being restrictive, they add a real intensity. Also, a bare bones approach to production allows ancillary instrumentation to have some space and the effect is, at times, stunning. The stars align on Dreamer where a single electric guitar chord, reminiscent of Mazzy Star, and a percussive rhythm are added with such restraint you barely notice their presence. As an exercise in less-is-more the album is a complete success.  

The flip side to this of course, is that the songs tend to get a bit samey and the filler tracks expose this release as just another indie-folk album of this current trend.  But when they hit the mark this album soars.  

3.5 / 5 Stars

Listen to Dreamer, Time's Ticking.

Isbells is out 8 October 2010 through Rogue Records / Inertia

King of the Beach is the third album from San Diego’s Wavves, and offers a departure from the discordant noise pop of their two previous records with the embracing of a much more accessible sound. The fact that a band whose speciality is writing lazy stoner anthems have produced three albums in as many years might seem counter intuitive, but while their previous offerings were defined by lax experimentalisms (think Ariel Pink meets Metal Machine Music), with King of the Beach it appears Wavves really do take things seriously after all.

Sunny and colourful (superficially at least – the lyrics reveal a socially awkward outcast full of self loathing and resentment), King of the Beach plays with the current trend for aurora dream pop and Pet Sounds-esque harmonious haze, and adds gritty slabs of grunge guitar and punk-paced tempos into the medley. The low-tech feel and shambolic demeanour add plenty of garage rock character, and Williams has enough awareness to blend self-depreciating humour in with his verbal vitriol: to paint himself as both the author of his downfall and catalyst of redemption.  

This is a snappy record – a fast paced, alternative poptastic, nostalgo-contemporary jaunt into the mindset of youth in revolt. The overall flow of the songs lacks cohesion in places, but King of the Beach is an altogether enjoyable antiheroic call to arms for disenfranchised Generation Z-ites.  You can practically here the indienet calling now: “Come back, Wavves, all is forgiven.”

3.5 / 5 Stars

Standout tracks: When Will You Come, Post Acid, Convertible Balloon

King Of The Beach is out 3 September through Pod / Inertia

Before listening to this album, I was told its “Bloody Mary music”.  I took this to mean positive things - it'll pick me up when I'm feeling down, right?  So in the name of true journalistic integrity I got myself properly liquored up and as a consequence am six kinds of hungover.  I've always hated Bloody Marys but I do love this album, and yeah it’s kind of working.

Mike Rosenberg, the man behind the Passenger moniker, has been a busy boy indeed. Funded entirely by busking sessions, Flight of the Crow has had a little help from Rosenberg's friends, boasting guest appearances by the likes of Boy & Bear, Katie Noonan and Lior to name few.  Basically, Passenger has pooled his pennies, called on some connections and made a damn fine album.  But that's not what you care about.  What you really want to know is how FotC stacks up against the dude who sets up his drum kit across the road from my house every Saturday night.  Well, let me answer that for you.  Firstly, despite the majority of the album being recorded in a single day and the obvious influence of his busking background throughout, the album feels well-rounded and whole.  Strings and keys accompany the acoustic guitar and fabulous wordsmithery to bump this production up above that of your average street corner folk singer.  
 
What's missing though are the cheeky elements of some of his past work such as on Divers and Submarines where he sang of an alcoholic’s request for a post-AA meeting drink.  Instead Flight Of The Crow is very earnest.  The tracks are beautiful and tender, but the fun and wit he left behind is missed.  Also regrettably, he's toned down his accent, probably a result of the company he's been keeping lately. 
 
It has to be said though that even without the quirky attitude of his previous work, Flight Of The Crow is full of undeniably affecting tracks.  I'll take Passenger keeping me awake over ol' sticks out the front of my place any day.

4 / 5 Stars

Listen to Golden Thread, Rivers, Flight of the Crow, Bloodstains

Flight of the Crow is out 17 September 2010 through Inertia