By Ashley Zimmerman
By Dana Krangel
By John Hood
By Ashley Zimmerman
By David Von Bader
By Sayre Berman
By Steve Brennan
By Ashley Zimmerman
He went on to play guitar, drums, and bass in three different seminal indie bands, inching away from bombast toward the peaceful melodicism he now explores with the Album Leaf -- whose name comes from a Chopin etude. The multi-instrumentalist now calls his Fender Rhodes electric piano his "secret weapon" and prefers to keep his music on the slightly precious, delicate side.
"You don't think it sounds too much like a Hallmark commercial?" LaValle asks from his San Diego home, cringing as he recounts comparisons to -- egad! -- Enya. Though the Album Leaf adheres to an ambient prettiness, the tinge of melancholy in the songs keeps it from sounding too "pussified," to quote one cynical reviewer.
"I have a way of overexposing my thoughts," LaValle worries, "letting them leach in." A gorgeously sad acoustic-guitar lament from 2003's Seal Beach EP exemplifies this tendency -- LaValle wrote it after a phone call from an ex-girlfriend while waiting for some Chinese food to be delivered. But on that record and its predecessors, he's kept his compositions strictly instrumental. His soft-pedal keyboards narrate the heavily reverbed tales of disappointment and ennui documented on 1999's An Orchestrated Rise and Fall and 2001's One Day I'll Be On Time.
That changed with 2004's In a Safe Place, which LaValle recorded in Iceland with members of Mum and Sigur Rós. A lusciously Scandinavian elegy, In a Safe Place includes vocals from Jón Thor Birgisson (Sigur Rós), Pall Jenkins (Black Heart Procession), and even LaValle. Previously, he'd deliberately kept singing off his résumé.
"It was something I wanted to get over and start doing," he explains. "We just put a few vocals on to see where they would go. Cellos, violins, vibes, glockenspiels, and Moog make the record the Album Leaf's most adventurous, fully realized outing. When LaValle adds bouncing beats (either electronic or via his own drum loops), songs like "On Your Way" point toward a new, less-moody dynamic. He says he'll keep vocals in the mix and deemphasize the Rhodes when he returns to Iceland this summer to work on a follow-up to Safe Place.
He's looking forward to the geysers and hot springs, hikes through the mountains, and a "minutely Jäeger-ish" schnapps called Brennivin the natives like to drink. He's not anxious to get back to the island's cuisine, though: "The food's not so hot. They have Subway, KFC, and McDonald's, and everything there is served with a side of iceberg lettuce and dressing.
"At least it's not gonna be freezing," he notes. "It'll be more fun and a happy time period. I'm not sure if it's gonna make the record happier, though. I don't think I could write a strictly happy record anyway." -- Jeff Stratton
The Album Leaf, Roots of Orchis, and Textual will be joined in holy mellowness at 8 p.m. Wednesday, March 23, at Respectable Street, 518 Clematis St., West Palm Beach. Tickets cost $6 in advance and $8 at the door. Call 561-832-9999.
Erin Go, Brah
With a name garnered from one of Ireland's 32 counties, the limerick is one of the world's most easily recognized poetic forms. It also helps that the five-line verses are usually raunchy enough to stand out on a crowded bathroom wall. In honor of this especially Gaelic week -- and after a few celebratory Guinnesses -- we've indulged in a few ditties of our own. Slainte!
50 Cent went to pop his collar
And he made all the club hoochies holler.
Love/hate with the Game
Getting rich just the same
But he still can't make change for a dollar.
Check out the Kings of Leon:
Dudes must be huffing freon!
Three bros and a cousin
Shred riffs by the dozen
But those haircuts I just want to pee on.
From Miami, L.A., and Boston
They flock to the streets of Austin.
Bands on the shmooze
Scribes for free booze
In the rockinest town to get lost in.
There was an Aussie lass named Kylie
Who shimmied her ass quite spryly.
If the fine Miss Minogue
Only sang with a brogue
I would think of her all the more highly.
-- Jonathan Zwickel
As the founder and musical mainstay of Black 47, the New York-based, Irish insurgent, trad-rock combo, Larry Kirwan juggles his day job with the band with a nominal career as an author and solo artist. He's currently celebrating a double delivery in the form of the group's new album, Elvis Murphy's Green Suede Shoes -- its seventh and best effort -- as well as a companion book, Green Suede Shoes. Each parallels the other, drawing on autobiographical themes echoed in Kirwan's incisive song lyrics, from growing up in Ireland under the influence of his Irish Republican grandfather to his mid-'70s relocation to New York City, where he immersed himself in punk, politics, and pontificating.
As Black 47 passes through Broward the day after St. Pat's, we asked Kirwan's thoughts about a holiday that celebrates beer, corned beef and cabbage, beer, leprechauns, more beer, all things green, and, for that matter, green beer. He was happy to oblige.