More Wussy

Should that be 'Wussier'?

Anyway, just in case you weren't immediately persuaded that this is a band worthy of a little obsession, I thought I'd offer an update.

Last Friday's Guardian review of Buckeye was in deliberately circumspect mode, critical antennae stunned by Christgau's gush, Tim Jonze dubious about 'a 17-track compilation that shows the band's progression from earnest, fuzzy college rock to … more earnest, fuzzy college rock'.

Now, come on: don't worry - this will not end in embarrassment.

Evidence?

OK.

Exhibit One: a beautiful, belated vinyl release for the band's first album from 2005 Funeral Dress. This is ideal for the inner fanboy - heavy duty green vinyl with multicolour streaks, absent from Amazon ( both co.uk and .com) so you have to deal with a - very efficient - record store in Cinncinati. The thrill of the chase! And a lyric sheet which helps with...

Exhibit Two: great, quotable lyrics to go with the surging and soaring music. Who (but a stony-hearted churl) could resist the opening couplet of 'Yellow Cotton Dress'? 

The yellow cotton dress is beautiful, no doubt,

But it becomes a motherfucker when you fill it out.

And I'm sorely tempted to quote 'Airborne' in its entirety. One of the great break-up songs, where the loft and lift of the entwined voices in the chorus:

You did not even send me airborne anyway.

Why in the world I hung around it's hard to say.

give the lie to the fuck-you bravado of what it and the rapid-fire, close-rhymed verses purport to say... But I'll let you you check it out for yourself here.

The Black Twig Pickers, Brighton, 10 July

Just when I was feeling regretful about not heading up to Stornoway for this year's HebCeltFest, another distinctive, vibrant and immersive folk tradition comes a-calling here in Brighton...

The Black Twig Pickers brought their irresistible, stomping Appalachian songs and tunes to Sticky Mike's Frog Bar last night and it was, as I commented afterwards to the band's fiddle/banjo virtuoso Mike Gangloff, as if the Anthology of American Folk Music had come to town. But don't be put off: this is no dry musicology, but the living, breathing, dancing, real thing.

The trio come from a corner of Virginia 'where West Virginia is north and North Carolina is south', as Gangloff helpfully explained. For this tour Sally Morgan (fiddle/guitar/dance-calling/slapped legs, etc) joins Gangloff and Nathan Bowles (banjo/percussion) because third core member Isak Howell couldn't make it.

They reeled off two sets' worth of fine music with an endearingly casual stage manner - and some winningly appalling jokes (like the corduroy pillow that is making headlines - you have been warned). The explanations of how they had come to learn (or, in some cases, write) the songs revealed their deep immersion in the local music - like links with Henry Reed's musical family including twins Gene and Dean, now in their eighties but still harbouring a grudge because a birth certificate mix-up had allowed one to retire from the power plant 12 months before the other...

A couple of numbers featured fiddlesticks: Nathan beating out a rhythm with chopsticks on Mike's fiddle strings as he played. it was the first time I'd seen it done and it works really well, as part of a regularly shifting dynamic of instrument changes and solo spots. They even managed to get a segment of a smallish but very enthusiastic audience square dancing.

Two hours and a thoroughly deserved encore later, Mike took time to show me his fretless banjo when I asked about it. Talented, charming, authentic, friendly: don't miss them if they're in your town.

Wussy: a new obsession

You know those times when you hear a band for the first time and they've just got it and then you have to rush around enthusing and telling people to go and listen to them for themselves?

You do? Good. This is one of those times.

I was alerted to the existence of Cincinnati five-piece Wussy by an email about upcoming local gigs. The write-up sounded interesting and I'd started googling them before I realised I was going to be out of the country when they played in Brighton. Rats. Because they were good, really good.

This SWSX showcase was a pretty impressive place to start: give it a go. Nice bikes, too...

As I googled further, I found - unsurprisingly - that I'm not the first person to rate them. Eminent US journo Robert Christgau has already dubbed them the best band in America. It could be that they just know how to press the right buttons of male, white, rock critics of a certain age... but I've tried them on my daughter, too, and she was keen.

Anyway, if you like IRS-era REM, Loaded Velvets, pretty-much-any-period Yo La Tengo... chiming, well-struck guitars... yearning, less-than-perfect-but-so-what vocals... strong, strong songs... I think you might get Wussy too.

And what's more you can see the best band in America in Brighton's pocket-size Green Door Store on 29 September. I'm going to have to make my way up to Brixton's Windmill the week before...

Two recommendations

I may be weird to be enjoying both of these two new(ish) releases simultaneously, but there you go...

First up, Hiss Golden Messenger's Poor Moon, bought on the back of their track on the Oh Michael... compilation which featured in my last post and well worth the price of admission. There's a sense in which it might be a newly excavated 70s singer-songwriter obscurity, but the admixture of folkier elements like fiddles and a pleasantly leftfield lyrical approach brings it back up to date. If you're beginning to feel a pull, try 'Jesus Shot Me In The Head' for size...

On to what must already be a strong contender for archival release of the year, The Lost Tapes 1968-1975 from inveterate German experimentalists Can. This is a beautifully packaged 3-CD set of studio and live material from the band's classic period, with both Malcolm Mooney and Damo Suzuki's stints at the vocal mic well represented. It comes in a 10" replica tape box with a nicely annotated booklet from keyboards-man Irmin Schmidt. Of course there are the usual 'what on earth do they think they're doing?' moments that Can fans have to accept as part of the deal, but the better stuff shows that the great albums were just the tip of an iceberg. If you don't know Can, don't start here: try Ege Bamyasi and Monster Movie then Tago Mago. If you stick that course - or if you already know your way around it - then get stuck in to The Lost Tapes... Hours of entertainment and aural stretching await.