The Mallard (confessed friend and confidante) is steadily moving towards a Castle Face release of their first album YES ON BLOOD, and the tracks are slowly sliding on to the internet. “Vines”, a long time staple of The Mallard’s downright stellar live show is the latest and it lives up to the sonic squalor Greer McGettrick and company loan to it on stage.
Sometimes before I go to bed I sit and imagine what it’ll be like to hold a copy of this group’s truly fantastic vinyl in my hands. And it feels good.
The Mallard will be playing Thursday at The Hemlock Tavern with Seattle stalwarts Koko and The Sweetmeats and one of my favorite bands around, Burnt Ones.
Niilo Smeds is yet another treasure I’ve been gifted during my friendship with The Mallard and her motley crew. Niilo Smeds is warm breath of fresh air in these times, oh these beautiful times, of fuzzed out garage and wonky electronica. Smeds vocals are clear and crisp and endowed with the sort of innate warmth you find in the vocal reaches of Bill Callahan and his ilk. A simple guitar plucks away behind him and I imagine an empty room and a single chair and a late bit of afternoon sunlight cutting through the dust motes. It’s a song to close your eyes to and be nostalgic for no particular memory, just a feeling or the outline of a moment.
You can pick up the whole Niilo Smeds album Helicopter Circles for free at his Bandcamp page.
I’ve heard rumors of a trip north with a show in Seattle with another Daily Choice favorite Koko and The Sweetmeats. Keep an eye out.
Full disclosure: my good friend Greer McGettrick, the one woman show that is The Mallard, plays bass on Mr. Tidyman-Jones album, and ’tis she who passed it along and she who raved about its truly brilliant sound. Confessions aside, Dylan Tidyman-Jones is an amalgam of influences. There’s a hint of burbling late-60s pop in the pot. I taste perhaps, a smidgen of Wes Anderson’s stylized New York on the back of my palate.
Yet it doesn’t pander to it’s roots. This is clearly, and wonderfully the work of Dylan Tidyman-Jones. It is intimate, in the way a one-man show almost always is, as if it had been recorded in a sun-room in the back of a long, quiet house. In its own way it is also expansive, as Tidyman-Jones creates a sound that seems to reach out in to the atmosphere, fingers touching at the celestial bodies that hover there.