Local releases: Ghost Shirt, Eric Nassau, Pocketful of Sunshine

Ghost Shirt EP
Ghost Shirt has been around only since September, but the band has already caused quite a stir, playing shows as much as humanly possible (especially at the Treehouse) and handing out a 10-song demo that felt like much more than a demo.

Led by the golden-voiced Branden Barnett (formerly of the Shatters), Ghost Shirt uses killer hooks, guy-girl harmonies, beautiful string arrangements and some good ol’ distorted guitar to craft songs that veer from chamber-pop to power pop. And the band’s captivating stage show brings to mind other local acts like Two Cow Garage (a band Ghost Shirt recently toured with) and Miranda Sound (R.I.P.).

Their new EP, which serves as the preview of an upcoming full-length, mostly captures all that good stuff. I say “mostly” because in trading in demo quality for a more professionally mixed, crisp recording, a couple of the songs lose some of the raw vigor that the demo captured in their more spontaneous state. At times, the EP feels almost too slick. I also look forward to hearing what the band does with Barnett’s gentler, acoustic tunes.

But those are minor, contextual quibbles. “Steam Engine” still feels plenty propulsive, Sam Kim’s violin melodies sparkle (especially on the “Sick with Love” outro), and the rhythm section does everything a rhythm section should. Be warned: If you pick up this EP, you’ll have no choice but to get the full album when it comes out.

Eric Nassau - What's Left of Empty Space
Eric Nassau is a quintessential troubadour, playing pubs, coffee shops and folk festivals across the country armed with his van and an acoustic guitar. In fact, he’ll be on the road pretty much nonstop before returning to Columbus for Comfest at the end of June.

But if Steve Earle is the “hardcore troubadour,” Nassau is decidedly soft. On his latest, What’s Left of Empty Space, you’ll hear lots of traditional folk with some contemporary singer/songwriter flair and country fare thrown in. His candid, conversational lyrics are endearing and instantly accessible but often lack depth and anything resembling grit (from “Sugar-coated Sugar”: “When I was a child, they said I was hyper/Till they pinned me down, found sugar in my diaper”). Nassau sings it all with full-bodied, yet nondescript, vocals. This is acoustic music as smooth and breezy as it gets.

He enlisted plenty of help on Empty Space, though, and those contributions allow some of these songs (mostly in the first half) to become more than just pleasant background music. Megan Palmer’s violin and vocals fill out “Big Water,” which clips along at a good pace and features one of Nassau’s best choruses. Palmer likewise bolsters “Frozen,” featuring mournful, nontraditional accompaniments that give the song a welcome eeriness. I’m also partial to Keenan Wade’s mandolin additions, which are sprinkled throughout, as well as the rockier, minor-key guitar riffs on “A Conversation.”

Turns out truly empty space doesn’t suit Nassau best. The more musicians the merrier, I say.

Pocketful of Sunshine - Target Audience of One
Drummer Paul Abbott (Woosley Band) dubbed his recent recording Target Audience of One to emphasize that all the songs center on the heartache caused by one woman in particular. But what a shame it would be if this spurned lover were the only recipient of these well-crafted songs, boasting a list of contributors that reads like a Rolodex of Columbus songwriting greats, past and present: Tim Easton, Micah Schnabel (Two Cow Garage), Megan Palmer, Lizard McGee (Earwig), Sean Beal (Big Back Forty) and Chris Burney (formerly of the Sun).

Under the moniker Pocketful of Sunshine, Abbott wrangled each of these musicians into his home studio to collaborate on a track, and the resulting stacked-with-talent album delivers with only a couple of slight missteps. Personal favorites include Schnabel’s cig-fueled, acoustic-driven “Ultimate Mixtape” and Jesse Henry’s alt-country gem “Get With You,” lovingly steeped in lap-steel. And McGee’s “My Favorite Star” could be the lead single on a new Earwig album; it’s one of the catchiest tracks I’ve heard all year. Not surprisingly, the record also boasts really good drum sounds—a detail that often gets lost in local bands’ mixes.

The gimmicky “Slowicide,” featuring Zuck’s Turkey Farm, isn’t really my bag. Neither is the final track, “Pretty Birdy (the Ballad of Shadow Cat).” But I don’t think I’d skip any other song, which is pretty amazing given the stylistic breadth and sheer number of musicians involved with the project--a testament to Abbott’s well-trained ear.

Here’s to shattered relationships!

(Also at The Other Paper)

Ghost Shirt, Couch Forts, Wing & Tusk, Phantods - Skully's

Four local bands played Skully’s on Friday night, and the place was packed. I don’t know if these bands just draw really well, or that was the only thing going on. Or maybe Skully’s always does that well on Friday nights and I just didn’t realize it. Whatever the reason, bully for you, Columbus, for supporting the locals.

For the most part, the bands didn’t disappoint. I was most excited to Ghost Shirt, one of the city’s most promising new bands. Singer/guitarist Branden Barnett led the band through a set of meticulously arranged songs rife with magnetic hooks that felt vaguely familiar but rarely rehashed, taking lessons from the Lemonheads, the Kinks and, like any rock group that embraces its inner pop, the Beatles.

I liked the songs from other vocalist/guitarist Phil Palma, too, but Barnett rightfully took the center stage spot next to Ghost Shirt’s exceptionally smiley violinist. Barnett has an electric presence live, and his strong vocals keep the pretty melodies from ever sounding precious. The slow crooner of the night (“History of the Blue,” I think) was nice, too, though probably a little lengthy for this crowd.

Ghost Shirt apparently has a 10-song demo CD circulating, which I’d like to get my hands on, but I’m hoping I don’t have to wait too long to hear a proper release by this band.

Following up Ghost Shirt was Couch Forts, a three-piece of electric guitar, banjo and violin that drew me in with their extraordinary musicianship. The songs rarely contained chords, instead opting for intricately picked patterns on each instrument that merged to create a surprisingly streamlined melodic base. Somehow this trio made virtuosic complexity sound simple.

Singer/guitarist Owen Kelley sang with unpretentious nerdiness and vigor, sounding like a mash-up of John Darnielle and Colin Meloy. Then, whenever he punctuated the beat with a floor tom, he’d spit lyrics with an edgy impetuosity. I mentioned last week that Couch Forts fit in well with fellow Columbus quirk-folkies Our Cat Philip and Super Desserts, which is true, but this band is still one-of-a-kind stylistically. If three leprechaun musicians woke up one morning and decided to renounce their Irish heritage and supplant it with Appalachia, I think it would sound like the Couch Forts. (The band prefers a shorter description: “yellowgrass.”) The downside is, Kelley’s vocal cadence is so static and the vibe is so consistent that after a few songs it felt like one long song. Some more structural and vocal creativity in the songwriting would be welcome.

Having never seen Wing & Tusk live before, I probably mischaracterized the band a bit in my preview last week by describing its sound as “brittle, Pedro the Lion-esque folk-pop.” There’s definitely some Pedro the Lion in there, and some folk-pop in Wing & Tusk’s recorded material, but live, Wing & Tusk was much more grandiose and sweeping than I had anticipated. (Guess that’s what I get for going solely off a band’s two Myspace songs.) What was brittle, however, was singer Joshua Rea’s voice. I’m OK with brittle voices, but Rea seemed to be going more for reverby, majestic vocals--not unlike a more epic and less pastoral Band Of Horses--and his consistent vocal cracks messed with that feeling some. I don’t know if he was singing out of his range, or if he just a bad night.

That didn’t ruin the songs by any means, though, and the band’s swell-filled rock was a nice contrast to Couch Forts.

The place was still packed when Phantods took the stage to close the night. Gretchen King is Phantods’ main attraction; her soaring vocals are a treat to hear live. I also applaud the band for taking chances and tackling so many genres, often in just one song. But to my ears, the band’s various influences car-crash into each other as often as they complement. The wide swaths of head-banging, metallic guitar don’t always cozy up next to the carousel melodies and waltzy interludes. I’d love to hear more songs where the heavy riffage is toned down, or at least sounds more seamless and less surgically implanted.

(Also at The Other Paper)