Dancing With Myself About Architecture

An Analog MP3 Blog

In the late days of February, I was walking the streets of Seattle with the object of my affection. A three-step program had been established for the final night of our stateside sojourn. First, we'd retreated to The Nite Lite Lounge and indulged in $4 pitchers of PBR. Next, we'd pounded back hot dogs and embarrassed ourselves at pinball at Shorty's. To complete the triumvirate, we simply needed to find our way to Chop Suey and watch Ghost Stories' Monday night set.

That week's issue of The Stranger had waxed profusely about Ron Lewis' one-man show. An accomplished multi-instrumentalist, Lewis' CV boasted stints as a support player for the likes of Colin Meloy (The Decemberists), The Joggers and The Fruit Bats. If that wasn't enough to pique curiosities and whet appetites, Ghost Stories' songs were said to boast the "jubilance one associates with chase montages from Scooby-Doo, albeit viewed through a lens of Belle & Sebastian fandom."

Sadly, our determination to see the show was bested by a westerly wind that arrived at the hour of reckoning. After crushing our umbrella like so much origami, the inclement elements similarly dashed our resolve. While we abandoned concert plans that evening in favour of a warm hotel room, the descriptors lavished on Lewis' music accompanied me home. Subsequent investigations would lead me to Ghost Stories' website (http://www.sonicboomrecordings.com/ghoststories). Claims that cleverer-than-thou debut Quixoticism delivered a "passive-aggressive psych-rock opera" had me sold. A credit card number was divulged to Paypal and I was left to bide my time until delivery.

You apparently can count Lewis amongst those songwriters who prefer pens to swords and whispers to caterwauling. After a coda of whistling and la-la-las, the acoustic sway of the opening song, "Catacombs" cedes to the insistent beat of "The Upper Ten/The Lower Five." With bubbling keyboards and buoyant guitars, the track offers a slice of timeless sunshine pop. Timeless, that is, until the 3:00 mark. It then veers into more ominous waters and assumes the form of a melancholy sea shanty.

And Lewis certainly isn't short of either ideas or hooks. Stylistically, he often eschews complexity in favour of immediacy. For example, "The Motions" is assembled around little more than interlocking vocals and an acoustic guitar, and "Secret Life Of The Union, Part II" is similarly sparse but nonetheless completely enchanting. Elsewhere, "Even a Vampire Wouldn't Drink My Blood" evidences the inherent playfulness of Lewis' music. At the centre of the album, "The Black Hand" and "The Nettles in Your Mouth" kick up a welcome, albeit short-lived, distorted ruckus. All told, Ghost Stories and Quixoticism should appeal to anyone with a weakness for bedroom recordings.

Now, it should be noted that lo-fi production isn't my sole vulnerability. I've also recently developed an acute soft spot for comedy featuring shabby bear costumes. See Arrested Development Episode 1/13 for a prime example. It's as gold as honey.

In a similar vein, bear bands seem to have everyone in a tizzy of late. As everyone clambers to follow the lead of Grizzly Bear and Panda Bear, I applaud Cleveland's Bears (http://www.bearspop.com) for keeping it simple. Really, why opt for Gutter Bear, The Sound of One Bear Clapping or Bear Hemorrhage when you could just be Bears? The six-piece's to-the-point approach also applies to their infectious pop. The downright jaunty, glockenspiel-infused "When You're Away" (http://www.myspace.com/bearspop ) seems assured of someday finding itself in a Wes Anderson film.

With that said, further discourse concerning the declining stocks of lupine-labelled bands and the corresponding upswing in bear monikers I will leave in the hands of other music conservationists. Instead, I'll turn my watchful eye and attentive ear to the indie man-child's only known natural predator: the girl group.

Indeed, for the better part of a year I've found myself powerless to resist The Pipettes' insistence that I pull shapes. It's not been at all pretty. At least the swoon-inducing music of Vancouver's Gigi (http://www.myspace.com/gigitheband) allows me to conduct myself with a touch more decorum. With songs penned by P:ano's Nick Krgovich, Gigi brings together an imposing roster of local talent in order to channel prime-era Phil Spector. While the group's Maintenant album has yet to be released, a selection of tracks have found their way online. I defy anyone to lend an ear to the glorious, girl-powered "Impossible Love" or "No My Heart Will Go On" and not have their heart palpitate in time. Furthermore, "'Neath the Streetlight" seems the ideal soundtrack for any meaningful late night meander.

Even if it happens to take you down a windswept Seattle street.