Made In America - The Babies

One of the best things about the do-it-yourself ethic of the independent music scene is the camaraderie that exists between musicans and their willingness to work with each other for the sake of making good music. Often this leads to great side-projects and sometimes these side-projects turn into full time bands. If not for this we would've never had bands like The Breeders or Sebadoh.

The Babies are one of these types of bands, a one time side-project turned full time band. The Babies originated at Brooklyn house party meeting between Vivian Girls guitarist Cassie Ramone and Kevin Morby, bassist for the indie-folk act Woods. Originally meant to be another creative outlet between Ramone and Morby, they would later add drummer Justin Sullivan from Bossy, release a handfull of 7" singles on various lables and then a demos E.P. for New Images Records in 2010. 2011 would find the band releasing their self-titled debut on Shrimper Records. 

Their lo-fi jangly guitar sound with call-and-respond vocals would become more refined the following year while working with Los Angeles based producer Rob Barbato (Darker My Love, The Fall, Cass McCombs) and would lead to thier most recent album Our House On The Hill, released last year on Woodsist Records.

Ramone and Morby share songwriting and vocal duties throughout the album and deftly dish out songs with swirling meloncholic peaks that leave you wonderfully dizzy at times. Our House On The Hill is indie-pop to the core but gets you there through folk and punk rock territory with scatterlings of organ, piano and saxaphone used nicely to fill in that sound.

Made In America - Swearin'

Back in March I posted about Waxahatchee, the band formed by singer/songwriter Katie Crutchfield after the breakup of pop-punk outfit P.S. Eliot, which included her twin sister Allison on drums. While in Boston over the weekend to see Buffalo Tom and I was talking with a friend and fellow music fanatic who suggested I check out Swearin'. The name sounded familiar but it didn't register with me until days later that Swearin' was Allison Crutchfield's band.

In Swearin', Allison steps from behind the drumkit, picks up a guitar, and splits vocal and songwriting duties with guitarist and ex-P.S. Eliot bandmate Kyle Gilbride. Jeff Bolt (Drums) and Keith Spencer (Bass) make up the rest of the Brooklyn based lineup.

While the vocal stylings of the Crutchfield sisters are almost indiscernible, Allison maintains and builds on her pop-punk background with the release of Swearin's self-titled debut (october-2012) out on Salinas Records.

Swearin' percolates nicely, in the vein of seminal indie gods Superchunk, with the danceable and hook-laden Shriking Violets and Just and is nicely balanced out by Divine/Mimosa and Empty Head, two songs that The Breeders' Kim Deal would be proud to call lo-fi. This balance make Swearin' an overall fun and easily listenable album.

Made In America - Waxahatchee

Waxahatchee is the solo project of Alabama songwriter Katie Crutchfield, formed after the breakup of her D.I.Y. punk band P.S. Eliot (which included her twin sister Allison on drums).

She released her first music as Waxahatchee as a split cassette with Chris Clavin on Plan-It-XRecords. Her debut album, American Weekend, which was entirely acoustic, was recorded in her family’s home in Birmingham, Alabama and released on Don Giovanni Records in 2012.

Cerulean Salt, released on March 5^th, also on the Don Giovanni label, is Crutchfield’s second full-length record as Waxahatchee. On it, Waxahatchee plugs in and adds a full band with the help of Crutchfield’s boyfriend Keith Spencer and her sister’s boyfriend Kyle Gilbride, both of the Brooklyn/Philadelphia based punk outfit Swearin’. 

Now electrified, Crutchfield maintains her lo-fi sensibilities and still manages wonderfully to tug at your emotions with her deeply intimate lyrics. The influence of 90's alternative girl bands like The Breeders and Shannon Worrell's September 67 are beautifully evident. Cerulean Salt begs you to wrap yourself in a warm blanket, curl up into your deepest chair, and stare longingly through your bedroom window at the pains and promise of a youthful life.

Waxahatchee - Coast To Coast