REVIEW: Renata Zeiguer - Old Ghost

Raquel Dalarossa

You may have already heard Renata Zeiguer even if you haven’t heard of her just yet. The Brooklyn-based multi-intrumentalist and singer has, in the past, lent herself to bands like Mr. Twin Sister, Quilt, and Ava Luna. She grew up playing violin and piano, composing music from an early age. But despite releasing an EP in 2013 and one or two standalone singles since, Zeiguer has largely stayed out of the spotlight, choosing instead to debut some of her original songs through an outfit called Cantina. Now, at last, a full-length, solo album has arrived, and it feels like an instant classic.

Old Ghost tracks Zeiguer’s musical past, forming a sonic introduction to the artist that feels both whole and wholly compelling, as though listening to it is, indeed, knowing her. There’s a mischievousness that runs through the album, a product partly of the natural guile of her singing voice, and partly of the spunk she creates through very danceable rhythms combined with gritty and fuzzy instrumentals. There’s a raw quality to the recordings, though her vocals always sound close to the ear, like she could whisper without ever being drowned out by the music. She is part Rita Lee and part Kim Deal.

“After All” is a highlight on the album and a wonderful example of all these qualities coming perfectly into play. Here, a Habanera rhythm is paired with a playful, psychedelic discord as Zeiguer tangos with her own paranoia, while offering a nod to her Argentinian background. The lyrics seem to obliquely address the routine and ritual of social media (“Picture that and tag me in, I want them all to know…Counting all the affirmations helps to make it grow”), eventually untangling the mental consequences of it all (“Part of me is disappearing”). The dramatic, musical back and forth serves the lyrics deliciously well, as she sings “It’s all in my head, after all,” but as her voice fades to an echo and the noise melts away, we’re left only with a sadly sweet guitar riff that imparts the loneliness of being stuck in one’s own anxieties.

Zeiguer’s brand of pop is often both comforting and challenging at the same time, taking unpredictable melodic turns before giving your brain what it wants. “Bug,” for example, is immediately catchy but pulls back in the refrain, building up to a chorus of “aah”s that releases all the tension. The frenetic percussion in this song and throughout the album keeps things light even as the lyrics explore themes of aloneness, powerlessness, and regret. The title and final track reveals the “old ghost” that haunts Zeiguer to be a “voice repeating all the things I can’t undo.” Over rueful strings and an ambling bassline, she quietly confesses to feeling that she’ll never be able to shake this specter. But through repetition, the line “I’m never going to lose” evolves to take on a new meaning: that perhaps, she can resolve to overcome that feeling.

Over the course of just nine songs, Old Ghost sees an artist struggling to, but ultimately succeeding in finding her voice. One hopes releasing the album was an act, too, of releasing the shadow at her back, but the music itself won't fade from memory any time soon. 

REVIEW: Dan Soto - Yeah Sure

Raquel Dalarossa

“Why not have a piece of pizza?”

In an unexpected way, this question really gets at the crux of Dan Soto’s first EP and cassette tape, Yeah Sure. Released, all too fittingly, via Brooklyn’s King Pizza Records, the six-song collection is ostensibly glib and indifferent. But in between birthday celebrations and pizza worship, Soto’s impossibly catchy garage rock (aided by friends Greg Hanson and Seth Applebaum) actually wears a lot of anxiety on its sleeve.

Taking into account that this is a two-sided tape release, it becomes clear that Side A is the more truly carefree half of Yeah Sure—a sort of light primer before slightly heavier topics find their way into the mix. The first three songs are decidedly silly, starting with a track about a baby face that is notable mainly for its classic rock and roll aesthetic. It's an upbeat number with a bass line that catches your ears and a solid guitar solo.

The second track, “Birthday,” is a simple but addictive guitar-pop tune with rather straightforward lyrics (yes, about someone’s birthday and, circuitously, how they were conceived) and features a Roy Orbison-inspired lead guitar, while third track “Pizza” is, indeed, a bluesy homage to pizza. But when Soto, in his nasally warble, asks “Who even cares if you have another slice?” before launching into rather heartfelt repetitions of “It’s all right,” you start to wonder if pizza isn’t, in fact, the answer to all of our existential problems.

Soto’s tendency to overthink things is hinted at with the pizza track, but the trait really crystallizes on Side B of the EP, starting with “I Think You’re Right.” Here, Soto confesses, “I’ve been up all night / Sitting in the dark,” and says “I try always / To be there, to be here / Life is strange, life is weird.” Now, instead of indifference, we hear something more akin to resignation in his tone, and even the EP’s title begins to take on a slightly different color. The same goes for the following track, “I Know You Know,” which is a kind of rockabilly ballad infused with just a touch of sneering punk, betraying a darker edge to Soto’s persona. His words are woozy and his thoughts uneasy.

Though the EP’s two sides come off as pretty discrete, they manage to buoy one another. Even during his most flippant moments, Soto ends up coming off as sincere thanks to his vocal delivery and unassuming lyricism. From birthday wishes to self-effacement, he means every word. Yeah Sure's endearing rock and roll may seem like empty carbs at first, but its surprising candor only feels more rewarding with each extra helping. Why not have another slice?

REVIEW: Rann - Yellowgun

Kelly Kirwan

Meet Rann. 

They’re the latest Brooklyn based band to carve out a niche for themselves in that idiosyncratic indie scene—a five-man ensemble forged from an elusive winter’s night “locking themselves in an isolated cabin” and reemerging with their own collage-genre of rock, dream pop, and punk. Yes, Rann dove into those well-visited depths of trippy psychedelia and in-your-face, garage-band angst, but managed to pull it off without merely repackaging the greats (and kudos to them for that). As for where they fall on the spectrum, think Phoenix with a touch more grit, or The Strokes draped in synth. 

Their latest album, Yellowgun, is a mesh of hard-edged and hazy jams—as if CBGB’s and Woodstock merged into a venue located somewhere off the L line. There would be a lot of head banging and body swaying all at once (and I for one, would be into it). 

To start with one of the album’s more amped-up tracks, there’s "Cellophane (Do You Wanna Know?)," which first appeared as a standalone single a few months prior (ditto for Yellowgun’s opener "Sunset"). With a stormy intro, healthy dose of reverb, and frontman Apoena Frota’s sandpapery vocals, "Cellophane" definitely draws you in with a sultry kind of seduction. Listening through, you feel the kind of wary hypnotism that pulses through the relationship of Rann’s description, introducing us with the lines, “You tried to love me with cellophane / Because I saw it through and stretched the truth / Now I’m awake.”  

If this song were to morph into an old adage, it would be “careful not to play with fire.” Because, through the spiraling (and impressive) guitar solos and unwavering percussion, you get the sense that a power dynamic has shifted. As Frota sings, “I’m in control in your role today / Suddenly your crystal ball goes back to cellophane,” we're left to wonder what triggered the switch, with the chorus taunting, “Do you really wanna know?” 

And we do. But, Rann is clever enough to let that linger, unknown. And, rather than continue with a play-by-play of (clearly) one of my favorite tracks, I’ll take a cue from this quintet and simply say—see for yourself. 

Then, when you're in the mood for Yellowgun’s softer side, one of the go-to tracks would be "Darkest Eyes." It’s a smooth, daydream kind of melody, with high-rising, feather-light synths and soft, whispery vocals that murmur, “Feel our fingers interlace / Let me be the chance you take,” giving us a sweet little ditty that isn't too saccharine. It’s easy to close your eyes and get lost in. And lastly, for a song that’s sure to evoke crowd sways and lighters held overhead, there’s the album finale, "Reset." It’s accented with an underlying staccato guitar strumming, and keeps up with the trance-like vibe of "Darkest Eyes," but perhaps with an even softer touch.

This deft braiding of punk and pop-rock reminds us that while the band is young, Rann’s members are on top of their shit, musically. And, now a year after they left that cabin, they’ve got an album and our attention.

Time to get better acquainted.