MP3 El Capitan - What Ails You
Price: 8.99 USD
Add to cart
Instant Download from music, digital version
Instant Download from music, digital version
|
Musicians use tradebit: Learn how to make music Pick up cool karaoke downloads Search for sheet music! |
- Contains these products:
- Single items of this product are available separately.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
- Size: 33.2 MB Platform: MP3 / All Pl
File Data:
| Contact Seller: | music, official CDbaby reseller, USA, Member since 06/19/2005 |
| URL: |
 Tweet this
|
| Embed: |
 Widgets for your homepage
|
Description:
(ID 1113268)
in partnership with CDbaby
Misty mountain country bongwater fresh pine trees. Rickety backwoods hymnals, thick sonics, damn good writing.
11 MP3 Songs
ROCK: Americana, COUNTRY: Country Blues
Details:
Twenty-something years ago, a group of folks--healers, airmen, woodcutters, hunters, and members of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir--give birth to five children in various locales. As the children grow, their folks force upon them Simon and Garfunkel, Beach Boys and Beatles, old country, bad lite-rock and Christian nursery rhymes, a little jazz, and a bunch of AM radio. The five kids are kinda weird; they get chased by things unreal through the woods and try to talk to airplanes with scrap metal. Time is spent at the altar, concussions are landed⦠They do things theyâre not supposed to and bum the other kids out in choir and band class. Theyâre remembering, quite well, the music theyâve heard.
The kids get bigger, doing more stuff they shouldnât do--along with the skateboarding thing and the punk rock thing and the blues thing and the funk thing and the dub/reggae thing. Theyâre boys in bands, driving vans across the land for spare change, over and over forever, because thatâs what kids in bands do. They keep growing and keep remembering, quite well, what they listened to when they were brand-new.
More presently: Two of them, NorâEasterners, find themselves along side the other three, NorCal natives, in San Francisco. The noise starts quietly (acoustics, banjos, piani, violins, brushes; 2003) in a Mission District kitchen and on a bedroom 8-track analog recorder closer to the Presidio. They start with harmony over melody, in the finest traditions of Americana, soul, reggae, and blues. As shows happen, things get louder (Gibsons, old Fender amps, lap steels, Rhodes and Hammonds, harmonicas, melodicas, synths, big sweet drums and heavy bass; 2005)--but the cool thing is that they learn to be plenty quiet or raucous, all in the same set. They become expert at creating live shows wherein each song builds upon a different sound and volume. They charm the coveralls off of freak Bohemians at folk festivals and fog up the indie girlsâ and boysâ glasses at the rock club. Loud or soft, thereâs always a big groove that make the kids and folks move. They call themselves El Capitan. Where theyâre at right now is imbedded in this record.
What Ails You was written to a one-inch tape machine at Bart Thurberâs House Of Faith studio in Oakland, CA, hand-mixed down to two-track without the aid of automation or a computer. Itâs an album of roots music in its purest form, full of masterful rhythms, tones, performances, and emotion. The songs start at midnight on a California forest floor and end up on the flip side of the moon. Within, youâre as likely to hear a sad folk fable singing the fate of firefighters on the Stanislaus as you are a desperate, sonic brew of feedback and heavenly harmonies, where words are less about the language spoken and more about how fragments of vocalized sound flow into and out of each other. Itâs the first, granite truth about Ails You: These songs--the arrangements, writing, and instrumentation--are as solid as they come. Whether simple and literal or straight outta the cosmos--whether they make you think about man vs. nature vs. machine or not--the hooks in these tunes will keep you up at night and burn themselves into your memory.
Oh yeah--they sing about girls, too: pretty ones, wrong ones, and ones who donât love you no more. And if youâve read this far and havenât listened yet? Well, thatâs an awful shame.
EL CAPITAN - REVIEWS
âWhat Ails You serves up heavy helpings of sunny melodies and ambitious songwriting; even some of Californiaâs solid-gold writers creep into the picture, from Everybody Knows-era Neil to the Eagles--and Lebowski be damned, we mean that as a compliment. After warming the tubes with the reverb-flooded âManzanita I,â the band bounces into the backbeat of âOsage Orange,â whetting the appetite for whatâs to follow: clever lyrical turns that never get cutesy and dead-on vocal harmonies just when we need âem most. Knee-deep into things, El Cap unveils its strongest moments with the easy shuffle of âMetronomeâ and the arching melodic lines of âSilo Song.â Throughout, Ryan Henryâs gravelly delivery musses confessionals with metaphors and the bandâs instinctual playing drives us through choruses awash in lush strings and guitorchestras as well as more spacious, bare-bones verses. As the record fades in a squall of fuzz and droning violin, it becomes clear how far the Captain has come.â
--SF Weekly
âThese guys rock as hard as that hunk of granite theyâre named after.â
--Mission Creek Music Festival
âBackwoods savants El Capitan closed the show with a satisfying ramble through the bogs and briars of their musical versatility, meandering from hoarse, guitar-driven blues to delicate vocal harmonies, and dredging up plenty of fiddle, harmonica, banjo, and other pioneer instruments along the way.â
--West Coast Performer
âThereâs nothing flip about El Capitan, whose amber melodies, ebullient harmonies, and soothing aesthetic place their music more on open ranges than city sidewalks. Atwater KNEC, moves at the pace of a desert sunset, with Henry's slightly graveled vocals accented by the softer sounds of piano, lap steel, strings, banjo, and banjo.â
--The Stranger
âI never knew what a cord of wood was until El Capitan defined it so eloquently on the spacey, back porch-swinging dirge âThe Woodcutterâs Hymnal.â Donât pinch the measurements, and keep an eye on the details.â
--SF Bay Guardian
âRelaxed without ever tumbling into lethargy, the introspective collaboration between guitarists Ryan Henry and Christopher Connolly works as both eclectic string symposium (the banjo-buffered "Yellowpine Blues") and pure pop ("Yaney Street").â
--Seattle Weekly
âMisty mountain country bongwater fresh pine trees.â
--Dame Satan
âSpooky California mountain music--nice guitar work and harmonies from the New Folk generation.â
--San Francisco Folk Festival
âEl Capitan offers something fresh, making you smell pine and hear cicadas just beyond the reach of your speakers-rocking with a smiling abandon that you canât help find infectious. Atwater KNEC is intimate, joyous-even when itâs sad. El Capitan can write, and write well; there's an undeniable authenticity in the creaky arrangements.â
--Copper Press
11 MP3 Songs
ROCK: Americana, COUNTRY: Country Blues
Details:
Twenty-something years ago, a group of folks--healers, airmen, woodcutters, hunters, and members of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir--give birth to five children in various locales. As the children grow, their folks force upon them Simon and Garfunkel, Beach Boys and Beatles, old country, bad lite-rock and Christian nursery rhymes, a little jazz, and a bunch of AM radio. The five kids are kinda weird; they get chased by things unreal through the woods and try to talk to airplanes with scrap metal. Time is spent at the altar, concussions are landed⦠They do things theyâre not supposed to and bum the other kids out in choir and band class. Theyâre remembering, quite well, the music theyâve heard.
The kids get bigger, doing more stuff they shouldnât do--along with the skateboarding thing and the punk rock thing and the blues thing and the funk thing and the dub/reggae thing. Theyâre boys in bands, driving vans across the land for spare change, over and over forever, because thatâs what kids in bands do. They keep growing and keep remembering, quite well, what they listened to when they were brand-new.
More presently: Two of them, NorâEasterners, find themselves along side the other three, NorCal natives, in San Francisco. The noise starts quietly (acoustics, banjos, piani, violins, brushes; 2003) in a Mission District kitchen and on a bedroom 8-track analog recorder closer to the Presidio. They start with harmony over melody, in the finest traditions of Americana, soul, reggae, and blues. As shows happen, things get louder (Gibsons, old Fender amps, lap steels, Rhodes and Hammonds, harmonicas, melodicas, synths, big sweet drums and heavy bass; 2005)--but the cool thing is that they learn to be plenty quiet or raucous, all in the same set. They become expert at creating live shows wherein each song builds upon a different sound and volume. They charm the coveralls off of freak Bohemians at folk festivals and fog up the indie girlsâ and boysâ glasses at the rock club. Loud or soft, thereâs always a big groove that make the kids and folks move. They call themselves El Capitan. Where theyâre at right now is imbedded in this record.
What Ails You was written to a one-inch tape machine at Bart Thurberâs House Of Faith studio in Oakland, CA, hand-mixed down to two-track without the aid of automation or a computer. Itâs an album of roots music in its purest form, full of masterful rhythms, tones, performances, and emotion. The songs start at midnight on a California forest floor and end up on the flip side of the moon. Within, youâre as likely to hear a sad folk fable singing the fate of firefighters on the Stanislaus as you are a desperate, sonic brew of feedback and heavenly harmonies, where words are less about the language spoken and more about how fragments of vocalized sound flow into and out of each other. Itâs the first, granite truth about Ails You: These songs--the arrangements, writing, and instrumentation--are as solid as they come. Whether simple and literal or straight outta the cosmos--whether they make you think about man vs. nature vs. machine or not--the hooks in these tunes will keep you up at night and burn themselves into your memory.
Oh yeah--they sing about girls, too: pretty ones, wrong ones, and ones who donât love you no more. And if youâve read this far and havenât listened yet? Well, thatâs an awful shame.
EL CAPITAN - REVIEWS
âWhat Ails You serves up heavy helpings of sunny melodies and ambitious songwriting; even some of Californiaâs solid-gold writers creep into the picture, from Everybody Knows-era Neil to the Eagles--and Lebowski be damned, we mean that as a compliment. After warming the tubes with the reverb-flooded âManzanita I,â the band bounces into the backbeat of âOsage Orange,â whetting the appetite for whatâs to follow: clever lyrical turns that never get cutesy and dead-on vocal harmonies just when we need âem most. Knee-deep into things, El Cap unveils its strongest moments with the easy shuffle of âMetronomeâ and the arching melodic lines of âSilo Song.â Throughout, Ryan Henryâs gravelly delivery musses confessionals with metaphors and the bandâs instinctual playing drives us through choruses awash in lush strings and guitorchestras as well as more spacious, bare-bones verses. As the record fades in a squall of fuzz and droning violin, it becomes clear how far the Captain has come.â
--SF Weekly
âThese guys rock as hard as that hunk of granite theyâre named after.â
--Mission Creek Music Festival
âBackwoods savants El Capitan closed the show with a satisfying ramble through the bogs and briars of their musical versatility, meandering from hoarse, guitar-driven blues to delicate vocal harmonies, and dredging up plenty of fiddle, harmonica, banjo, and other pioneer instruments along the way.â
--West Coast Performer
âThereâs nothing flip about El Capitan, whose amber melodies, ebullient harmonies, and soothing aesthetic place their music more on open ranges than city sidewalks. Atwater KNEC, moves at the pace of a desert sunset, with Henry's slightly graveled vocals accented by the softer sounds of piano, lap steel, strings, banjo, and banjo.â
--The Stranger
âI never knew what a cord of wood was until El Capitan defined it so eloquently on the spacey, back porch-swinging dirge âThe Woodcutterâs Hymnal.â Donât pinch the measurements, and keep an eye on the details.â
--SF Bay Guardian
âRelaxed without ever tumbling into lethargy, the introspective collaboration between guitarists Ryan Henry and Christopher Connolly works as both eclectic string symposium (the banjo-buffered "Yellowpine Blues") and pure pop ("Yaney Street").â
--Seattle Weekly
âMisty mountain country bongwater fresh pine trees.â
--Dame Satan
âSpooky California mountain music--nice guitar work and harmonies from the New Folk generation.â
--San Francisco Folk Festival
âEl Capitan offers something fresh, making you smell pine and hear cicadas just beyond the reach of your speakers-rocking with a smiling abandon that you canât help find infectious. Atwater KNEC is intimate, joyous-even when itâs sad. El Capitan can write, and write well; there's an undeniable authenticity in the creaky arrangements.â
--Copper Press
in partnership with CDbaby
Power Search