Dressed to impress
Lyttelton’s Ben Edwards launches another Americana outfit into the world.
From the first crunchy guitar riff set against lead singer Milly Tabak’s sweet drawl on opener Pursed Lips to the fading chords of country-folk closer In the Wind, the debut full-lengther from West Auckland’s the Miltones is a glorious rocky road trip through the dustier sounds of the States.
Another Americana outfit dressed to impress by Lyttelton producer Ben Edwards, the Miltones are tight and tuneful. They have a tendency to wander into the fringes of psychedelia, but there’s no doubt that Liam Pratt’s guitar and Tabak’s vocals are the stars of the show.
Pratt’s licks are at their best in the more overtly country rock tracks such as Firing Way, but he adds mystery and atmosphere in the slower, bluesy tracks such as Carlos and the dark, epic Darling.
Tabak’s voice breaks beautifully over the stomping gospel of Glory, like surf on a black-sand beach, and she’s unafraid to adopt a Stevie Nicks-style swirling sultriness for Wildfire or a travellin’ country roadshow holler on Dancing With the Dead.
The Miltones have put in the hard yards and a heap of touring to reach their first album. They’ve emerged fully formed as a confident band with a strong, idiosyncratic style and a lead guitar and vocalist that make them the match for anyone releasing American music in New Zealand. THE MILTONES, The Miltones (Rhythmethod)
Restless Black Key and super-producer to the stars Dan Auerbach has made sure his second solo outing is drenched in the style of Nashville, his adopted hometown. From the Duane Eddy and Mark Knopfler cameos and the John Prine co-credit on Waiting on a Song’s title track to the vibrato strings on the lush country-pop of Malibu Man and the soul horn stabs duelling with Auerbach’s chiming lead guitar on the outstanding Stand By My Girl, the album plays like a classic, cruisy 70s Music City sampler. As smooth as a Brylcreemed cowboy sinking bourbon at the bar. WAITING ON A SONG, Dan Auerbach (Warner)
If his previous album, Singing Saw, earned Kevin Morby comparisons to Bob Dylan for its nasal delivery and troubadour writing style, follow-up City Music creates an alternative universe. In this one, His Bobness took Blonde on Blonde as a launching pad not to the countrified reverie of John Wesley Harding but to join forces with Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground as they penned White Light/ White Heat. Hints remain of Morby’s more Dylanesque tendencies in beautiful story songs such as Aboard My Train, Pearly Gates and Night Time and his voice still seems to emerge from his sinuses rather than his lungs, but the album is underpinned by a harsh, concrete-entombed loneliness. The title track, 1234, Crybaby and Tin Can feature the rush of repeated guitar strains or single-chord piano riffs and gritty, stark lyrics. At the heart of the album, folk singer Meg Baird reads a Flannery O’Connor passage about a boy who mistakes distant city lights for a wildfire – just as Morby revels in his role as an urban newbie recasting a skyscraper landscape with country eyes. CITY MUSIC, Kevin Morby (Rhythmethod)
The bravest musical moment of 2017 could well be alt-J’s decision to cover House of the Rising Sun as part of their attempt to follow up a Mercury prize, Grammy and Brit nominations, a sold-out Madison Square Garden show and two huge albums. RELAXER is – as expected of the UK threesome – inventive, but House of the Rising Sun sounds a little like a Mumford & Sons 45 played at 33 – novel but a cacophony of styles.
RELAXER, alt-J (Liberator)