From:The Graves still live in Metuchen, and I believe Mister John
Gleason teaches primary school somewhere around there. But their new
label – Kill Buffalo – is based in Brooklyn. Perhaps because of this,
the Roadside Graves have come untethered from the Turnpike. These guys
have always sung about the West; for the first time, they sound like
the West. And they do it without falling into any of the Will Oldham
clichés that are currently wrecking contemporary folk-rock.
From: JC. I think so, anyway. Their MySpace page identifies them
as a Brooklyn band, but they call themselves a Jersey City collective.
A few years ago, you couldn’t turn on WFMU without hearing a cut from
Songs From The Shining Temple, which is weird, because WFMU is a
free-form station. Their commitment to Flaming Fire is the closest
thing to local interest that the station has probably ever taken.
Shining Temple was released through Perhapstransparent, which is still
the best indie-rock label in Jersey City history. Brian Wilson, the
drummer from American Watercolor Movement, plays on half of these
tracks; the great Brian Dewan, who isn’t a New Jerseyan but is a pretty
constant presence on this side of the river, is listed as a bandmember.
The Hambrechts – singers Patrick and Kate – feel like envoys from that
old-style “weird” Hudson County aesthetic that is rapidly disappearing.
I associate it with Hand-Mad, Pier Platters, the font on the menu at
Maxwell's, certain studios at 111 First Street, and the Hard Grove Café
before the renovation.
From: Back in the early 00s, when Tim Fite was known as Little
T, one frequent criticism he heard was that his work was “suburban.” It
sure didn’t help that he was very obviously a college student at the
time, or that he rapped about his hometown in West Jersey, but at least
he was keeping it real. Tim Fite has long since moved to the city, and
he’s absorbed some of that hipster-yokel schtick that’s so popular
around Brooklyn these days. But there’s still something very Jersey
about Fite’s writing: he’s more inclined to reference the Wal-Mart than
the Mini-Mall, and more familiar with the cloverleaf exchange and the
convenience store than the L train and the corner bodega. “Sycamore,”
the most candid track from Fome Is Dape, the
first Little T & One Track Mike album, was an expression of his
alienation from the culture he grew up in. Suburban at heart he
may be, but he’s never been comfortable with that; in fact, you can
see Gone Ain’t Gone, the first Tim Fite album released by Anti-
last year, as a deliberate attempt to reorient him away from his Jersey
roots. Over The Counter Culture, then, is better understood
as an extension of “Sycamore” than a follow-up to Gone Ain’t
Gone -- and not just because Fite is rapping again.
From: Queens. Don’t believe the hype in the real-estate magazines --
it’s not the new anything. It’s just itself: an aggregate of
neighborhoods north of Brooklyn, inadequately served by public transit
and subject to blackouts. If you’re a rapper, the ‘Bridge isn’t over
and never has been. Queens indie rockers, on the other hand, have
never really had a regional identity. I imagine that when The Glaciers
want to feel part of the “scene,” they take Metropolitan down to
Williamsburg along with everybody else.
Format: Full-length; 12 tracks. In a year when everybody has been
recording iPod-busting 10-minute epics to prove they’re Down With The
Album Concept, closer “Hats Off” seems almost modest at 6:28.
By Tris McCall From: Manhattan, via Larchmont, New York. Larchmont is an extremely
distinctive suburb, and not just because of its long tradition of
talented native sons. Still, Milton’s perspective is likely to resonate
with anybody who’s left an automobile suburb to grab for the brass ring
in the big city.
Format: Full-length album. Twelve of these songs are new, and Milton
appends a live version of “In The City,” his best-known song (so far).
If you don’t know “In The City” already, it’ll just sound like a killer
closer.