Because I’m not a devoted reader of Pitchfork (sorry, I while away my time at other, more sophisticated sites), I sometimes miss cool stuff, like Earlimart releasing three new MP3s through Pitchfork … LAST FALL. Yeah, so I’m really behind. (Go here, here and then here.)

Nevertheless, I’m caught up enough to know Earlimart has named its new record Mentor Tormentor, a title frontman Aaron Espinoza says on the group’s Web site, “holds plenty of meaning and mystery.”

Of the three new tracks, Everybody Knows Everybody strikes me most, though that’s not to say the others aren’t good (they are). But Everybody is a distinct departure from Earlimart’s usually sullen temperament. It feels angry and full of purpose, and its title seems to resentfully suggest an inner circle that’s become increasingly suffocating and too close for its own good. “Revenge” comes up often here.

“Choose an alternate end /
without involving my friends /
I always thought that you’d keep it to yourself /
But can you keep it from everybody?”

It reminds me of the similarly titled Everyone Knows Everyone by the Helio Sequence. People change, friends betray, feelings are hurt, people talk, nothing’s the same again, and it’s too much to take when everybody knows everybody (or everyone knows everyone).

Earlimart | Everybody Knows Everybody

Visit Earlimart’s blog.

Related:
New Earlimart: “Answers and Questions”

If my Googling skills are up to snuff, the title of the 2006 debut album from Urbs (aka Paul Nawrata) translates roughly – or, possibly, exactly – to “the same old film.” It makes sense, if I’m correct, given Nawrata’s cinematic approach to this G-Stone Recordings release.

A longtime DJ in Austria, Nawrata has pulled together both the dramatic and downtempo for an instrumental soundtrack that will leave you grasping for the RJD2 comparisons. If we’re to assume this is the soundtrack to Nawrata’s life, then he does a wonderful job of coaxing emotion and moods out of a (mostly) word-less space. Much like the cover of the album, you’ll feel like you’re transported into some sepia-toned foreign film surrounded by beautiful French-speaking women, fancy cigarettes and fancier cars.

This is downtempo/trip-hop that isn’t served its due as background music. (Also, Nawrata’s take on Duran Duran’s The Chauffeur is excellent.)

• Urbs | Tu Moi Aussi?

Inspired a bit by Idolator’s Coulda-Shoulda-Woulda feature, in which they rummage into albums of yore, I’m going back to (gasp!) 1994 for today’s post. (Kudos to Idolator for the Rival Schools post yesterday.)

Satchel existed in a strange, and ultimately thankless, place: a couple degrees of separation from Pearl Jam, whose guitarist, Stone Gossard, formed the side band Brad with drummer Regan Hagar. With Gossard off on his Pearl Jam duties, Hagar and singer Shawn Smith formed Satchel.

The band’s debut, EDC, carries a loose concept around Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs; there are songs named after characters (Mr. Brown, Mr. Pink, Mr. Blue) and clips of the film are interspersed between tracks. “Take the satchel of diamonds and scram. I’m right about that, right? That’s correct? That’s your story?” (Ahhh, we have a band name!)

I remember wearing out the track Mr. Pink when the album originally came out. But it’s odd that maybe I don’t have a full appreciation of the album until 13 years later. Big guitars and piano-heavy ballads helped carry me out of the grunge years and into a sound more spacious and compelling, though my 16-year-old head – more into A Tribe Called Quest and Digable Planets at the time – struggled to wrap itself around it. Gotta say now that EDC never sounded better.

• Satchel | Mr. Pink
• Satchel | Suffering

Devastations (“Devs” to their close friends) released Coal on Brassland in the United States last year; I believe the LP had a European/Australia release in 2005, but don’t quote me on that (they are from Australia). (Also, you may recognize Brassland as the label run by writer Alec Hanley Bemis and the Dessner twins of the National.)

Anyway, if you’re feeling emotionally vulnerable, maybe you don’t want to listen to Coal. Or then, maybe you do. Standish’s baritone voice can be comforting, in the way the bottom of a bottle might be if you’re feeling lonely. It’s moody and intense, and Standish’s low-register range reminds me a great deal of Mark Sandman from Morphine.

• Devastations | The Night I Couldn’t Stop Crying

(Coal available at eMusic.)

One more thing: Oh, hell yeah!

From the don’t-judge-a-book-by-its-cover department: Knowing nothing about Six Parts Seven, I was sure when I received the band’s latest offering, Casually Smashed to Pieces, this had to be some metal band, and there was no way I’d even bother listening. I mean, just look at that cover what with the menacing viking and all.

Ahhh, irony. Imagine my surprise when I see Six Parts Seven listed as opener on tour for folk-country favorite Richard Buckner (April 3 at Rhythm Room in Phoenix, by the way). Not only is Six Parts Seven opening, it will be the backing band for Buckner during his set (via). In the many times I’ve seen Buckner, never have I seen him with a full band. So, naturally, I was curious (not to mention embarrassed by my shallow first impressions).

This is an instrumental album, which usually sets off warning alarms inside my head … ahem, Ratatat. But Casually Smashed (on Suicide Squeeze) is concise – eight songs, 31 minutes, to be exact. Anyone with a short-attention span can appreciate that. But anyone with a good ear can love the textures here, supplemented nicely by horns and lap-steel guitars. As a huge fan of Buckner, the pairing all makes perfect sense to me now.

• Six Parts Seven | Stolen Moments