It was more than a simple appreciation of subrosa sounds that served as the foundation for going public with Wilfully Obscure in 2007. The other part of the equation was a number of other music "sharity" blogs which came before mine that I deeply admired, and first and foremost was a shining beacon called Little Hits. Curated by Jon Harrison, it was a true music blog in the respect that his original goal was to stick to a song-a-day format (which he succeeded in doing during the mid '00s). It wasn't the prolific nature of LH, so much as what he was making available through his site - impossibly scarce singles from '80s indie and post-punk acts. I'm not talking about the likes of the Connells and the Godfathers, or for that matter most of what populated 120 Minutes' playlists, rather overlooked gems from bands whose releases were relegated to local, micro-indie imprints, and private pressings. Accompanying each glorious blast wave on the Little Hits servers was a depiction of the record sleeve and a brief but informative essay about the music in question. Gee, I wonder where I got that idea from... 
Theoretically, I never intended for Wilfully Obscure to be modeled after Little Hits, yet so many of the enlightening discoveries I made on there led me to search out the actual records for myself, many of which I've passed on to you in their entirety, as opposed to LH's less legally susceptible "one song" per record policy. How's that for a run on sentence? Anyway, those daily revelations really stimulated a record buying habit that continues unabated to this day...and the results have been unveiled here ever since. During LH's 2005-09 run, I managed to purloin 300+ tracks from his Mr. Harrison's hallowed servers. Many of which were from artists I had never encountered previously, and have yet to feature on these pages. Today is the first of three collections of left-of-the-dial Nuggets that Little Hits brought to my attention. The Little Hits website is still intact, but hardly browsable, and furthermore all the MP3 links have been removed. If you're curious about any of the music in this setlist, my best advice would be to do a Google query with "Little Hits" and the band name in quotes, and you should promptly reach the page you so desire. To read a little more about the closure of LH, may I point you to The Pitch. 
Alter Boys - Piles
The Suburbans were a nervy strum and drang trio, presumably from
the NYC area. Hard to believe this came out all the way back in 1980,
given that just about every logic comparison I seem to draw is past the Carter-era, namely The
Feelies, Misison of Burma, and even the Figgs. In fact, singer guy/guitarist Jamie Rosenthal's vocal timbre falls roughly in the range of Burma's Roger Miller and the Figgs Mike Gent. There’s a little backtracking in a
Velvets kinda way, not to mention the Suburban's occasional knack for pulling off slight Brit Invasion maneuvers, but these
similarities are dim and likely coincidental. The band's DIY
recording setup is devoid of effects and studio trickery, lending a minimalist stride to The Pop Life.
I made a blind purchase on this one a few months back, and am still weighing whether my decision was a smart one. A Windy City triple-threat, with something of an identity crisis I might add, (the) Lifeboys initially impressed me with this disk's opening salvo, "Acts," boasting a sonic penchant not far removed from the likes of Rhythm Corps (Method) and Frōzen Ghōst, throwing in a dab of social consciousness as well. Quite a hook on this one too. This is followed by the considerably less serious "Rebel Rock/Noble Roll" which bears a shouted, '80s rawk chorus that would be downright cheesy if the remainder of the tune didn't compensate (fortunately it does). "Talking With People From France" closes things out on a sardonic note, wrapping itself around a fun little hoe-down riff. You be the judge. 
Another great debut, this one from 2001. Soothing, with a subtly surreal undercurrent. 
In contrast, Baltimore's co-ed Wildhoney aren't tethered as closely to the Kevin Shields/Belinda Butcher formula, so much as the American read of it that The Lilys and Swirlies perfected in the '90s. Nonetheless, "Like Me" boasts a wonderfully woozy lilt, tossing in a smidgen of neo-girl band persuasion a la Best Coast. Elsewhere, "My Disguise" emanates a chiming guitar lead before launching into more traditional 'gazer maneuvers with instantly gratifying results. Well played.
Throughout the '80s and '90s, Minneapolis/St. Paul was the collective gift that kept on giving, seemingly producing more bands than California and New York combined. Not an entirely accurate analogy but it sure felt like it, and John's Black Dirt were part of the Twin Cities mix. Snatched up in the Grass Records signing frenzy of '94, JBD played a relatively traditional stripe of indie rock that was way more Chapel Hill than Seattle. I could easily envision these three lads sharing a bill with Polvo and/or Archers of Loaf. Heavy goes it on the dynamics too, adopting a similar modus operandi to Seam. Unfortunately, JBD weren't quite as consistent as their aforementioned contemps, but Perpetual's good 'uns shine like a zillion bucks, with the tuneful soft/loud surge of "Lights Flashing," and "Buicks" bittersweet tinge floating my boat just fine. Props to "Pugilist" as well. Per a couple of blurbs on Amazon's page for this disk, an unreleased follow-up to Perpetual... is sitting in a vault or closet somewhere. 
Three albums in three years? What is this, the 1970s? I suppose when you're not signed to a label that doesn't require you to tour nine months out of the year anything is possible. As I've mentioned in previous features for their Spark>Flame>Ember>Ash and Winter Garden Light albums, this Terry Banks-led D.C. quartet are not about full fledged Wire worship, as their moniker might suggest. There are vague parallels (coincidentally in the vocal department) but as evidenced on the bulk of Half-Remembered Dream, Dot Dash are downplaying some of their chillier post-punk inclinations for a slightly more streamlined guitar-pop bent. Even when they're tamping down demons of yore on "Here's to the Ghosts of the Past" and decrying character flaws in "Shopworn Excuse," the actual delivery of these songs is fairly strident. Elsewhere, "Bloom/Decay" and "Do Re Mi" travel a similar sonic motif, simultaneously offering some of Dot Dash's boldest melodies to date. Half-Remembered's real corker would have to be the penultimate "A Light in the Distance," an incisive, power-chord driven slammer that propels the band into Superchunk-esque punk environs. The concluding "The Sound in Shells" brings things back down to Earth for a smooth touchdown. Perhaps not as dazzling as last year's Winter Garden Light, HRD makes the case that's it still a great time to be a Dot Dash fan.
Pretty much my favorite debut album of 2000.
So, you might be asking why I've sat on this pair for so long. In 2009 I was informed that a reissue of Breadmaker was literally imminent, via legit download and on CD with a bonus track. Thus far I have seen evidence of neither, so in the meantime I thought I'd put them up for public consumption. Enjoy (you will). 1992 single
A. And Never Pull
B. Sea Change
Breadmaker
01. 5 Listens
02. Simon's Day
03. And Never Pull
04. Tsunami
05. Flat
06. Bugpowder
07. Epiphany
Ok. So a little bird has been whispering in my ear lately about a new album coming down the pike from The Nines, who are something of a cult power-pop favorite from north of the border. September 16 is the street date for both the physical and digital versions which you can learn a little bit more about here.
My introduction to Steve Eggers and Co. was their contribution, "Ghost Town Sunday," to the Pop Can compilation from 1997. I quickly followed up that mesmerizing slice of XTC-inflected goodness with the band's Wonderworld of Colourful album. The Nines absorption of the Andy Partridge and Colin Moulding catalog couldn't be understated in the least, however the deeper I delved into Wonderworld... there was more than simple XTC homage to be had. The Nines sublime pop craftsmanship offered a wink and a nod to the likes of Jellyfish and Marshall Crenshaw as well, but it was apparent they were quietly putting their own spin on things to boot. Unfortunately, given the glut of new releases that were coming out in the late '90s, I kinda lost track of the Nines, despite the fact that they were churning out new material. I still have a lot of catching up to do, but in the meantime, I thought I would share this curio with you. A ten song demo from 1994, featuring prototypes of several songs that would occupy the aforementioned Wonderworld... and many others that failed to carry over. If you're new to The Nines, this cassette isn't a bad intro, but treat yourself to Wonderworld... at CD Baby, not to mention the rest of their back catalog - and of course the new platter coming out this Monday.
01. What Can I Do
02. Here it Comes Again
03. Morning I Wake
04. Jennifer Smiles
05. Orange & Blue
06. "Jules Maxi"
07. Going So Far
08. Days and Days
09. Overblown (King's Crossing)
10. Free of it All
Instead of going with just one full length this week, how about three EPs? All from different artists, different years, (and at least slightly) different genres. Two of the three artists have never been featured on Wilfully Obscure until today. Thirteen tracks between all of them. The only clue I'll forfeit is that one of them contains a Rilo Kiley cover, that in my opinion smokes the original. Enjoy (or not). 
It would appear that Jef 'Left' his short-lived music industry perch promptly after this ep was released, cos' so far as I can tell, there wasn't hide nor hair of him evidenced again (at least not according to many a search engine). Kind of a shame on A&M's part, because the naggingly catchy "Street Survivor" could have been marketed as "power pop," at least in that Rick Springfield sort of manner. Ditto for the mellower "Girls in Cars." "No Security" could pass for a slightly more mainstreamed Devo, and "The Beat's" rasta tones make for some very obvious reggae plundering. And from the 'obvious' we shift to the painfully 'gratuitous,' specifically the tank-top shot of the man in question gracing the back cover. Of course, you'll have to swallow a morsel of your pride in the name of downloading this to examine for yourself. 
Much like the end of summer itself, Treble Charger's third and most accomplished jewel in their crown is lovingly bittersweet. The Ontario quartet's power pop stunner Maybe It's Me arrived after a pair of merely okay albums, NC17 and Treble Charger that I would loosely compare to Sloan's Smeared. Maybe, on the other hand, was tremendously robust and sonically layered, each song chockablock with a self-contained tackle box worth of hooks to call it's own. The songwriting was considerably more developed and thoughtful as well. Though it does brandish notable studio luster (and a walloping, big fat '90s rawk sound), Maybe It's Me is something of a major label miracle in that the quality control is really on the up and up, parallel to records of the same era like the Doughboy's Crush and Summercamp's Pure Juice. The Treble's decision to tap Lou Giordino as producer didn't hurt either. Two more T/C albums followed, 2001's respectable Wide Awake Bored, and Detox in '03, the latter of which I thought catered a little to closely to a demographic that was frankly beneath them. At any rate, they had all their ducks in a row on this one. 
