I know, I know, it was a real short run, exacerbated by a full band list being announced quite late in the game, as well as complicated by various personal affairs and general lack of time. It'll be better next time, I promise.

Anyway, have a great SXSW. See you next year!

With over a decade of experience under their belts, Spoon have traversed musical territory ranging from Pixies-esque rock throwaways on Telephono to the absolutely pure pop perfection visited time and time again on Girls Can Tell. They manage to jam in memorable melodies, killer instrumentation, Britt Daniel's urgent, compelling, rasp, and Jim Eno's excellently dark, spooky rythmns into tiny, individually-wrapped, bite-sized packages. Spoon make three minute creatures that squirm and widdle, straddling the edges of convention, expanding and contracting spaces within ramshackle song structures. The result? An assload of miniature sonic masterpieces that feel nearly three-dimensional. And all this while still retaining the essence of great pop songs.

I finally "got" Spoon when I realized the method this unique three piece approach music: in terms of empty rooms, open landscapes, and echoing spaces. It's what they leave in and what they choose to leave out that matters. Spoon are masters of restraint, holding back and diving in only when the moment is right, and then coming back up for air. Maybe it's a tambourine here, a whoosh there, a riff left hanging, an extra beat or an extra breath. Spoon albums are always short, usually clocking in at less than forty minutes, but there's always that singular gem that showcases a band that has nailed exactly what they were trying to accomplish.

And I must confess that I can't listen to any of my Spoon albums in the day time; it just feels wrong. It's entirely night-time music: gritty, sweaty, jagged at times, frayed around the edges, maybe a little distant, maybe a little too close for comfort....And then the song's over, and you're left with a memory of a great hook and chills down your back, and the scent of something foreboding in the air.

Spoon - Car Radio
Spoon - The Fitted Shirt
Spoon - I Turn My Camera On
Spoon - The Way We Get By

Spoon's official web site. Buy Gimme Fiction from Amazon or iTunes.

This sort of arms-wide rock depends on not just sophisticated, shimmering instrumentation and moody atmospherics, but both of those, done extremely well. And Pompeii has both of those items down pat, but with a unique slant. Singer Dean Stafford has a somber but warm tenor that works with the band's chiming guitars and clattering drums, as Caitlin Bailey's cello quietly fills the gaps. Bailey gives the band extra texture, and the interplay of the melodic bass lines and her rasping strings gives Pompeii's low end unexpected depth, with layers upon layers upon layers.

Pompeii's music is not indie pop, or indie rock, or straight up goth or emo. It's all these things, and in the end, you can't write them off as just another indie rock stereotype. That's probably why Pompeii's beautiful music is so affecting.

Pompeii - Assembly
Pompeii - Miracle Mile

Visit Pompeii's official site. Buy Assembly from Amazon.

But I confess that even myself, a former Elephant 6 devotee, have left my Apples in Stereo and Minders albums sit, dusty, and unloved up on the shelf in favor of more recent, hipper trends: post-punk, indie-disco, dance-punk, alt-country, a host of gloomy singer-songwriters and all of those damn Canadian hippie cult bands. You can blame Jeff Mangum for going into hiding or Beulah for breaking up or the kids, those damn kids, for having an attention span that's only a single remix long.

Heavenly and Talulah Gosh, I have forsaken you. Aislers Set, I'm sorry. Ladybug Transistor, please forgive me. But there is still hope; my faith in twee pop has been resuscitated by bands like Voxtrot, Bishop Allen, and, finally, the return of the glorious Tullycraft with Disenchanted Hearts Unite. What used to be sloppy is not slightly less sloppy, but the lyrics are still wonderfully snarky, and the current configuration of band members shows a polish not found on earlier releases. I'm delighted to rediscover that long-forgotten pop rush of the ultra-catchy "Secretly Minnesotan" and singable "Our Days in Kansas." Never has the phrase "disco bloodbath for the ages" sounded quite so sweet. Shake the songs too hard, and joyful hooks will come tumbling out. And let's not forget the back catalog. The jangly "Pop Songs Your New Boyfriend Is Too Stupid to Know About" is a cult classic: chock full of references to other swoonworthy indie pop bands, it's a balm to dumped indie boys across the world. And the refrain of "Twee" is as infectious as it is sharp and self-affirming. Smile, it's Tullycraft! You can keep your punk rock, ska, rap beats, and house, fuck me, I'm twee! Doot-doot-doot-do.

Tullycraft - Secretly Minnesotan
Tullycraft - Twee
Tullycraft - Pop Songs Your New Boyfriend's Too Stupid to Know About

The official Tullycraft site. Buy Disenchanted Hearts Unite from Amazon or iTunes Music Store.

When I first heard Okkervil River a few years back, I described them to as a friend as Neutral Milk Hotel's sensitivity meets Bright Eyes' pathos, with a dash of Wilco of the Being There era; now I even regret that those words came out of my mouth because this band is so much more than the sum of its influences. There's something familiar, heart-warming, and universal about Okkervil River.

Although some other bands may have unfairly stolen their literary-genre thunder (*cough*Decemberists*cough), Okkervil River spearheads a different kind of rock: hand-sewn but damaged, raw and cathartic but sincere, and bursting with energy and life. This is not music for the faint of heart; these are not songs meant for shy wallflowers and restrained librarians. In fact, when Okkervil were on tour with the aforementioned lit-loving, historically dramatic band, reports from the crowd told me that Okkervil River blew the tall-socks-and-black-rimmed-glasses college sophomores right to the back wall. Why so? First off, there is very little that is naive, twee, or precious about this band, nor are they dependent on the too-cool hordes of mini-genres that pop up all of the time. Frontman Will Sheff and his merry band of followers prefer instead to play pedal steel and banjo, and then go reference a rich tradition of old-timey folk pieces and dusty, neglected volumes of fragile classics.

The Okkervils make fucked up Americana/folk rock from Austin, Texas, built upon the foundation of the warped songwriting talent of Will Sheff, famous for his throaty, hoarse vocals, and ingenious turns of phrase. They have a penchant for lush but raw orchestration, caterwauling devastation, loud-soft-loud depression, and writing eerie murder ballads. The jaw-dropping "For Real" combines gulping, foreboding basslines and a sheer, ever-increasing dread, rising through layers of static and piercing, trembling voices. Listeners are caught unawares by the surprising twists and turns of "Westfall," chills running down their spines, or blindsided by the emotional, threatening climax of "Another Radio Song." Meanwhile songs like "Seas Too Far to Reach" drawn upon stately keyboards and plucky mandolin, to create memorable, lovingly arranged, yearning ballads of loss, love, cheating, and the vast terrain of the human heart. You can almost believe the unkempt, ragged Sheff as he croons "you still haven't lost her, you still haven't lost her, not yet" on the gorgeous and sad "Red."

And of course, I must also give my stamp of approval to the wonderful, heartbreaking "Okkervil River Song." The song they wrote just so you know how to pronounce the name also happens to be one of the best folk songs written this past decade: mournful, breath-taking, shattering, a classic. They've come a long way from the fledgling band that once played a show to all of a dozen people on a weeknight at 8PM in New York's Mercury Lounge: last year, their richly rewarding, tour de force Black Sheep Boy topped many a best-of list.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: we are entirely too lucky to have bands like Okkervil River even in existence. They brought the house down at SXSW in 2004, playing the very last showcase spot on Saturday night at a small club called Tambaleo, far from the throngs of Sixth Street. Most of Austin appeared there to enthusiastically cheer on their hometown heroes, who have finally come into their own. The band threw themselves into the songs, with every mandolin or accordion solo seeming too fiery, too passionate to have come from mere mortals. I'm fairly certain I stood next to the wildly intoxicated members of the band Zykos, who did their own part heckling Will, Jonathan, Travis, and the rest of the gang. Tambourines were thrown, beer was spilled, strings were broken, and lyrics were shouted at the top of their lungs. And, then, there at 2AM, shaking on worn feet and broken-down knees, weary but enthusiastic, the entire room erupted in a joyful chorus to the songs they knew by heart, each chorus reverberating into the empty parking lot outside. And everything was just as it should always be.

Okkervil River - Westfall
Okkervil River - Okkervil River Song
Okkervil River - It Ends With A Fall
Okkervil River - Black
Okkervil River - Another Radio Song

Okkervil River's official site. Buy Black Sheep Boy from Amazon or iTunes. I also recommend the Black Sheep Boy Appendix EP; you can also purchase that from Amazon or iTunes.

They've got swooping drums, singalong choruses, and handclaps. The Rosebuds have got a little Motown, and a little Kinks, and a little Zombies, and a little Buddy Holly, and a whole lotta "yeah yeah yeah" and "la la la" and "ba da da" and "oh, whoa" all over the joint. It goes down quick and smooth, and leaves you in a sugary hazy of happiness with classy sweaters and rollerskates and the kids up at the Point on a Saturday night.

The formula is simple, the execution is flawless, and all the kids dig it. And now they're adding some synths and some danceable beats in Night of the Fudies, but it's all in good fun. It's like an 80s dance party meets The Rosebuds. Cool, confident, goes down smooth and it sounds good. Yeah? Yeah.

The Rosebuds - Kicks In The Schoolyard
The Rosebuds - Hold Your Hands And Fight
The Rosebuds - Get Up and Get Out

The Rosebuds official site. Pre-order Night of the Furies from Amazon.

I'm sorry I doubted you. See, it was rough seeing you go from the rough-sewn pop of Charm School to rising blog-stars. And Clementines? Remember when we were all waiting around for you guys to release a new album, and we thought maybe it was going to be on this label or that label? And then things changed. You rescued a piano off the street. You started a crazy project -- 12 EPs in 12 months? What, are you nuts? And the songs started changing. What was once "the Bishop Allen formula" was no longer. There was experimentation, grandiose experimentation. Before, you were the little band that could, with ramshackle melodies and a refreshing naivete. And, as usually happens, that band grew into something else.

I'll admit, the prospect of four new songs a month from a band I admired, a band I wanted to see succeed had me both joyful and worried. Could you actually do it? Would this be the straw that broke the camel's back? Or would the songs actually suck simply because you were forced to produce, produce, produce. I must say that around April or May I simply got tired of ordering another new EP every month, watching my mailbox for that EP, and listening to those four new songs, wondering exactly where Bishop Allen, my little-unsigned-band-that-could was going? After a while, I just got overexposed and had to take a vacation from Bishop Allen. I felt guilty, but it was necessary, and I knew you guys would probably be waiting when I returned.

Well, it's March 2007 now. You guys did it. It took blood, sweat, and tears, but you put out 12 EPs. OK, so, one of them was a recording of a live show, but managing to release all that new material in a single year? That's a pretty big accomplishment. And the Bishop Allen that I missed? Turns out it was there all along. But now, older, wiser, more polished, more confident, but still writing those same amazingly catchy pop hooks, just in different forms.

So: good job. Congratulations. And see you soon.

Love,
Queen of the Front Row

Bishop Allen - Charm School
Bishop Allen - Central Booking
Bishop Allen - History of Excuses
Bishop Allen - Calendar

Visit Bishop Allen's official site.

Bring Me The Workhouse is mesmerizing. It's an album made for lonely night time drives, with gorgeous songs for sorrowful amnesiacs and weeping broken-hearted lovers. Poignant and heartbreaking, the songs are arranged by a deft hand, and create a perfect rollercoaster of orchestral emotion. We, the listeners, are in the palm of Worden's hand, carried from hushed silences to explosive climaxes.

And as such, My Brightest Diamond produce such dramatic, perfectly poised rock epics. The lush music works best when it's a well-oiled vehicle for Worden's expressive, impressive voice -- strings and guitars bolstering her forward and upwards, towards the heavens. Whether she whispers, fluttery, or shrieks like a beautiful banshee, hers is a voice that won't easily be forgotten. When Worden sings, the world seems to stop, turn, and listen.

My Brightest Diamond - Golden Star
My Brightest Diamond - We Were Sparkling

Visit My Brightest Diamond's official site. Buy Bring Me the Workhorse from Amazon or iTunes.

Great Lake Swimmers are at their best when evocative of hidden landscapes and vast empty skies. The echo-filled songs cover the familiar territory of nostalgia, romance, and spirituality, making beguiling jigsaw puzzles of melodies and harmonies. On the band's newest, guests provide an even lusher sound of pedal steel, strings, female vocals, and on the plucky "Your Rocky Spine," an at-once familiar banjo picking.

At once both haunting and soothing, Great Lake Swimmers create intimate folk sound that compares most closely to Iron and Wine, but with a more lively spirit and a soul of steel. While Sam Beam often sounds like he's given up, Tony Dekker is still pondering the moment. Dekker's voice is sweet, creamy, and fills the room, expansive and embracing. His does not float above the songs, but rather, acts as an anchor for the gently strummed guitar, singing lap steel, barely visible banjo, and sound of crickets; it's music meant to be enjoyed in quiet meditation on a still summer night, rocking on a swing under an antique porch light.

Great Lake Swimmers - Moving Pictures, Silent Films
Great Lake Swimmers - Bodies and Minds
Great Lake Swimmers - Your Rocky Spine

Visit Great Lake Swimmers' official site. Buy Ongiara from iTunes.

It all culminates in sublimely naughty ode to a date gone wrong, "Backfire at the Disco," sort of an Art Brut meets Arctic Monkeys kind of night, with rollicking guitars, bouncy bass, big toms, an insaney catchy chorus, and a dance-happy drumbeat. "At the disco! At the disco!" they shout, as it they couldn't believe what really happened. And lead singer Matthew Murphy can't be all that disappointed in what slipped out of his mouth with a melody this cheerful, right? "I made a move / But it was well out of / Context," he hurriedly explains before launching back into the glorious chorus of the song. Cutesy but infectious "ooh ooh ooh"s only undercut the severity of what he said, which he never really admits aloud to us, but we can imagine, right?

So, go ahead, play it again. That's what pop singles are for. The Wombats are simply too good to be your guilty pleasure.

The Wombats - Backfire at the Disco
The Wombats - My First Wedding

Visit The Wombats' official site.

Pela are the magical combination of chiming guitars, atmospheric rock, ringing vocals, the occasional guitar solor, and a healthy love of U2 ("Lost To The Lonesome" sounds particularly Bono-ish). There's a decided British bent in the way that they approach structuring their layered songs, with driving bass and drums, and the desperate, emotional inflections of lead singer Billy McCarthy, who aims to sound larger than life.

McCarthy's voice has the rawness of a punk rock singer going for the deep baritone of Matt Berninger of The National, but with more hope than catharsis. And like the National, Pela mines the territory of dark, brooding songs mixing beautifully with moody backgrounds, particularly in the instrumental passages of "Trouble With River Cities," but add their own special crunch and soaring riffs. Nearly every Pela song is an anthem, destined for a giant arena. Their very smart Anytown Graffiti looks to be permanently stuck in my iPod and it won't go away soon.

Pela - Trouble With River Cities
Pela - Lost To The Lonesome

Visit Pela's official site. Buy Anytown Graffiti from Amazon.

As another young man with a hypnotic voice and acoustic guitar, he's been compared to all of the usual suspects (Dylan, Drake, et cetera), sure, but he's got such a unique voice that it would be a shame to dismiss Regan as yet-another-folkie. He stands far above the pack; Regan radiates deliberateness, maturity, and originality, which is even more impressive given his light touch in arranging the songs. You get the feeling that the airiness of his songs comes from restraint, and a confident in knowing when to be sparse and when to bring in the effects, the lush instrumentation.

And every once in a while, there's a turn of phrase, a little saying, a single sentence that's so good and clever and true to life, you're jealous that you didn't think of it first. But that's why he's the folksinger, not you. The combination of his soft but strong voice, intricate guitar picking, and innate sense of dramatics is purely stunning.

Fionn Regan - Put A Penny In The Slot
Fionn Regan - Be Good Or Be Gone

Visit Fionn Regan's official site. Buy The End of History from Amazon.

That's pretty much all you need to know about Matt and Kim's sparse, lo-fi energetic pop music. Matt plays the keyboards and sings, or, rather warbles and shouts and yelps and sings in an off-kilter manner that's often off-key. Kim plays the drums in a sloppy, almost rudimentary, prone to big smashes and crashes sort of way. Kim loves Matt and Matt loves Kim. The arrangements are bare and uncomplicated, as Matt's bouncy synths drive the melodies and Kim bashes the drums behind him. The songs are not so much succinct as bursting over with energy, with unavoidable acceleration. And the kids? They love it and follow Matt and Kim around with big adoring puppy eyes.

Matt and Kim are in love but they also want to have a raucous, crazy party and they want you involved. They make infectious, cutesy pop music together that calls out for lots of fist-pumping and crowd shoutalongs; the Mates of State comparisons are just too easy to make, but Matt and Kim are more raw, more focused. The point here is not really on subtlety or finesse or perfect musicianship but the pure joy of making a racket and hollering. (There's lots of hollering.) The lesson, then, is: it only takes a drum kit, a keyboard, and two insanely happy musicians to move the entire room.

Matt and Kim - Yea Yeah
Matt and Kim - Someday

Visit Matt & Kim's official site. Buy their self-titled debut from Amazon.

There's a good amount of distortion and feedback in their sound (Jesus and Mary Chain meets Heavenly or the Flatmates is the easiest reference point) but there's also a strong melodic pop core that ensures their catchy hooks get stuck in your head. Singer Caroline McChrystal has the soft of soft, breathy, soothing voice that contrasts nicely against the crunchy guitars. Her effervescent voice slithers around the layers of fuzz, as the guitars are loud and aggressive without being overpowering. The resulting product is a toe-tappingly good, fuzzed-out guitar rock, with shoegazer influences, but a cheerful twee pop bounce.

The Manhattan Love Suicides - Suzy Jones
The Manhattan Love Suicides - Indian Summer

Visit The Manhattan Love Suicides' Myspace page. Buy their self-titled debut from Amazon or iTunes.

Nau has gained a reputation for prolificacy, a tendency to include references to Christianity in his work, and a limited palette of sounds. But Nau converts his apparent weaknesses into strengths: His hummably straightforward songs stick in the brain, and his wonderment in the simplest of things is infectious.

Page France - Chariot
Page France - Million Man Money Hand
Page France - My Antarctica (My Beloved Home)

Visit Page France's official site. Buy Hello, Dear Wind from Amazon or iTunes.