Islands in the Stream: 8/28/24
Giving some love to artists who deserve more of it
Islands in the Stream is a periodic series that highlights songs I've liked by artists who have a relatively low number of monthly listeners. It's like a public service with a dash of the thrill of discovery. What more could you ask for?
"I See," The Delevantes
These guys compare themselves to the Everly Brothers, which is more than a little bit of a stretch — two-part harmonies don't put you on the same plane as Don and Phil, no matter how well your voices match — but if you show me an artist bio devoid of hyperbole, I'll show you an old music writer who's still capable of astonishment. Anyway, even if this won't really scratch your Everlys itch, it's still a pleasantly bittersweet little number that leavens the Delevantes' ever-so-slightly mournful vocals with a jangly sunbeam of Rickenbacker guitar.
"Off Season," Mark McAdam
This song has a relaxed denim feel that I appreciate; McAdam is clearly a talented songwriter, and one who knows how to work within well-established grooves while still sounding like his own artist. Also, not enough songs incorporate whistling anymore. Extra points to "Off Season" for continuing that sadly neglected tradition.
"Stella Not Too Late," Robert Harrison
If Robert Harrison's name is familiar to you, it's most likely because of his lengthy (and ongoing) tenure as the frontman for Cotton Mather. Having never listened to a Cotton Mather album, I can't tell you how closely his solo stuff aligns with the band's material, but I can tell you that "Stella Not Too Late" sounds vaguely like a lost Squeeze song in a very pleasant way.
"Sweet Virginia," Gleeson
I don't want to oversell this, but there's something about "Sweet Virginia" that makes me feel like I'm almost listening to a solid Del Amitri song, and that's a feeling I don't get anywhere near as often as I'd like (at least not without actually, you know, listening to Del Amitri records). Bonus points for not being a cover of the Train song.
"Mile Marker," Sleepy Driver
Continuing in the extremely loose RIYL vein I tapped with that last song, I will tell you that "Mile Marker" sounds like it might possibly be a Deacon Blue song you've never heard, although I should add that the similarity gets stronger the further you are from the speakers and the less actively you're paying attention. Shorter version: This is a mid-tempo driver that feels real good.
"Cool with It," Lola Moxom
"Cool with It" contains five to ten percent more melisma than I'd prefer, which is a drawback but not enough of one to prevent this song from serving as an attention-getting showcase for Ms. Moxom and her team. The production's juuuuuust '90s enough to let you know what they're getting at, and the arrangement is sensibly spartan, yet still unique. Not bad for an artist who hasn't even turned 20 yet.
"The Inevitable," Léa the Leox
Seductively snaky melody, unabashedly horny lyrics, and an appropriately pulsating beat — I don't know how long we'll have to wait for the next Sade album, but in the meantime, we can be awfully glad for Léa the Leox.
"Forget Me," Emma Taylor and the Wall Flowers
Emma Taylor describes her sound as being influenced by Fleetwood Mac, which I do not hear — and that's mildly surprisingly, given how frequently I hear sideways echoes of the Mac in songs by younger artists these days — but I do hear a young singer-songwriter with a knack for melodies that tickle the ear without ever touching the ground, which is something I suspect Stevie Nicks would approve of.
"How the Ivy Crawls," Perennial
Perennial claim to combine an absurd mishmash of influences — post-hardcore, '60s soul, mod pop, ambient electronic — which strikes me, based on the evidence of this single song, as an absurd expenditure of effort from a band that excels at serving as a delivery mechanism for punk-adjacent adrenaline injections. At 2:18, "How the Ivy Crawls" is the second-longest song on their Art History album. Laziness, or a gift for stripping out inessential bits? You decide.
"Killer," Aidan Jack Finnecy
I never thought I'd listen to a song that included the line "You could be my killer / If you leave me with my teeth," let alone hear that song and actively enjoy it, but I think if you live long enough, pretty much everything ends up surprising you eventually.