The Saint James Society The Saint James Society
Tee Pee
The Saint James Society are an Austin, Texas collective, all droopy hats and opulent jewelry, raven clad and ultra rad, who are just as likely to be selling fragrances at a desert bazaar as they are pushing garage psych in a dimly lit back room full of stony, armless idols. Thankfully, we get the latter (although it won’t hurt if you want to envision the former too), and despite the fact that their self-titled debut is but a four-song EP, it oozes with enough mystic mojo to melt the moon. Like a switchblade hypnotist with an Edgar Allen Poe mind, The Saint James Society taunt you with their BEAT, a tell-tale rhythm that drives the entire EP so that the acid drone and dark fuzz of its pulsing quartet (“Reflections,” “Of Silver and Gold,” “The Ballad of the White Horse,” “The Devil, An Angel, and a Broken Window”) fills up the very marrow of your bones. It’s a moving (dare I say sexy?) trip, equal parts style and sound, and will surely find favour with fans of Black Mountain, Quest for Fire, The Black Angels, and The Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, as well as restless sinners and the terminally cool.
Check out the video for “Reflections” from The Saint James Society!
In the hierarchy of rock n’ roll fabrics, suede probably ranks just above corduroy and just under whatever that neon shit was that David Lee Roth used to stuff his junk into. I mean, suede’s not completely awful, but it’s certainly no denim or flesh, and it definitely pales in comparison to its much cooler cousin, leather. However, what this Cleveland trio (who, despite their name, are not triplets with a wardrobe shtick, although that could be quite awesome) lacks in texture knowledge, they make up for in name-dropping sound. On their third album, The Night, the brothers suede open themselves up for all sorts of comparisons, each one of ‘em a salute to to the way they mix n’ mash the electricity and fuzz of notable hard power heroes. Basically, there’s not one song on The Night that doesn’t play on the sexy black of Year Long Disaster, the cosmic wail of Wolfmother, the barefoot groove of The Parlor Mob, and the dusty punch of Hermano, and the band delivers each one of them in bold, cross-eyed fashion. And for good measure, dig the sleazy spit of Danko Jones on my fave of the bunch, “Too Late.” Familiar, sure, but an awfully solid album nonetheless.
After having spent the last few years as one half of The Gutter Twins (with Mark Lanegan), Greg Dulli has returned to leading The Twilight Singers, his bread and butter since his old band, alternative masters The Afghan Whigs, disbanded in the late 90s. Dynamite Steps, the band’s fifth album, ends their longest run of years without a release (five) after a prolific run of four albums in six years at the start of the millennium. If anything has changed in those five years it’s the growth in Dulli’s standing as an American classic, as a revered and respected rock n’ roll icon, and in turn that has enriched the efforts of his Twilight collective, who deliver their darkest, most emotional album to date. Thick with Dulli’s gruff but evocative voice over top a sweeping soundscape that runs soulful, sexy, serious, and stellar, Dynamite Steps is indie noir of the highest order, a flickering flame of hope at the end of a long, dirty, hopeless tunnel. Every single one of the songs on this album breathe with a mesmerizing profundity and while its hard to pull out highlights, “Last Night in Town,” “On the Corner,” “Blackbird and the Fox” (featuring Ani DiFranco), “Never Seen No Devil,” and the title track ought to find room in Dulli’s ever growing catalog of brilliance, and will make you take to the city streets in the dead of night to look for meaning in its dimmest lights.
The Saint James Society
Suede Brothers
The Twilight Singers