One of my current favorite things about the weekend is that the local oldies station in my neck of the woods has taken to playing random episodes of America’s Top 40 with Casey Kasem on Sunday mornings. One week listeners might be treated to an episode from May of 1984, then the next week it’s August of 1973. It’s a great reminder of the old days back when AM radio was king and the Billboard Top 40 reflected the mindset of the teenagers of the nation.

Listening to “Babyface” by The Elected after being treated to one of those re-broadcasts makes one wonder what in the world ever went wrong with the Top 40 radio format. Back in the 1970s, the song’s indelible hook and its mix of sunshine pop and funk would have propelled it high onto the charts, where it would have been right at home rubbing shoulders with everyone from The Rolling Stones to The Doobie Brothers to The Partridge Family. Nowadays, though, such a chunk of splendid ear candy gets relegated to the “indie” ghetto, to be enjoyed only by reviled “hipsters.” What the heck happened?

The Elected are the baby of Blake Sennett, who recently announced the dissolution of his previous band, the beloved Rilo Kiley. While Rilo Kiley’s demise is sad, it was probably the right call for Sennett. He’d become increasingly overshadowed by co-bandleader Jenny Lewis’ growing popularity, so it was in Sennett’s best interest to set her free to pursue her solo career before he became a de-facto sideman in his own band. With The Elected, Sennett is the sole focal point, and on “Babyface” he more than proves himself able to command the spotlight.*

Sennett’s stated intention for “Babyface” was to pay tribute to The Stones in their ‘70s heyday as the biggest band in the world, when they mixed soul and funk with slinky pop hooks on albums like Sticky Fingers, It’s Only Rock & Roll and Some Girls. The song’s seductive slither deftly accomplishes that goal – as well as also recalling Talking Heads in some of their more playful moments – as Sennett and his female backing vocalists uncannily summon up the feeling of driving around on a ‘70s summer day with the car windows down.

It’s a strange world where a song like “Babyface” is considered alternative. In decades past, it’s precisely the sort of song Casey Kasem would have featured on America’s Top 40. Nowadays, though, it’s unlikely that the show’s current host Ryan Seacrest will ever be introducing it to his listeners. As a result, a generation of teenagers is getting screwed out of a song that could have defined one of their lazy, golden summers. That just doesn’t seem right.

You can listen to “Babyface” and eleven other tracks on Bury Me in My Rings, which was released on May 17th by Vagrant Records.

* [Ed. note: interestingly, Sennett has said that "Babyface" "would've gone to Rilo Kiley, but there's no Rilo Kiley output to be funnelled to."]

If you liked this song, you should also check out:

Green Like July “No Light Will Shine on Me”

Jenny and Johnny “Big Wave”

Imaginary Cities “Hummingbird”

To call The Head and the Heart‘s eponymous debut a new release would be somewhat misleading. Although it was made widely available for the first time on April 16th through a re-pressing by Sub Pop, The Head and the Heart was initially self-released by the Seattleites in June of the previous year. (The Sub Pop version carries a re-recorded song here, a new addition there, and remastering throughout.)

One of the album’s highlights is the spacious vista of “Lost in My Mind,” a mellow song that dips its toes in alt-country waters without taking the plunge completely. The cut proffers plaintive acoustic guitar strums and jaunty piano melodies but there is no doubt that the vocals are the main attraction here.

“Lost in My Mind” is driven by Josiah Johnson and Jonathan Russell’s interlocking vocal harmonies; the pair possess an exceptional partnership, their voices seemingly destined to intertwine like many of the great songwriting duos who preceded them. Whether it’s the train whistle “ooh-ooooh”s that lead into some of the verses or the subtle highlighting of phrases throughout, Johnson and Russell give their band’s sound a dazzling polish which is wholly unnatural for a group that had only been together for a couple of years prior to venturing into the studio together.

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Premiere: Winter’s Fall “In Your Head”

Grand Archives “Silver Among the Gold”

The Ravenna Colt “South of Ohio”

Despite sounding as if it was written in a mossy cabin in America’s Pacific Northwest or the dusty Texas plains, “No Light Will Shine on Me” was actually penned by Green Like July, who hail not from Austin or Portland, but from Turin, Italy.

Don’t expect, however, for “No Light Will Shine on Me” to sound like Top Chef’s Fabio Viviani fronting The Elected. On this track the twangy crooning Andrea Poggio or Nicola Crivello, the band’s vocalists, never belie their country of origin.

Perhaps A.J. Mogis and Doug Van Sloun, who produced and mastered the song, respectively, hold the key to pinpointing “No Light Will Shine on Me”’s elusive geographic center. As it turns out, “No Light Will Shine on Me” was recorded in Omaha, Nebraska, home to Saddle Creek Records – Conor Oberst’s melancholic musical empire. Mogis is known for his ongoing contribution to Saddle Creek releases, though it is his brother Mike’s work with Rilo Kiley that reverberates through this track which boasts florid guitar and lap steel’s melancholy beauty common to much of the Jenny Lewis/Blake Sennett partnership. Van Sloun completes the picture, for he has mastered Rilo Kiley’s work, as well as a slew of other Saddle Creek releases.

Although songs of its type are written frequently, “No Light Will Shine on Me” rings true because Green Like July’s experiment with Americana is neither mawkish nor distractingly derivative. Instead, its well-worn melody strikes the ear effortlessly, offering up the comfort of a prairie cabin rather than a villa in Tuscany.

For more from Green Like July, check out Four-Legged Fortune, the band’s second full-length release, which Italian-based Ghost Records this past February.

If you liked this song, you should also check out:

Downpilot “Flicker”

Megafaun “Carolina Days”

Beady Eye “Bring the Light”

Songwriter Nik Frietas takes an anachronistic approach to songwriting, penning surefire radio hits for a bygone era. His compositions are robust with the classic pop tropes of 1970s AM radio–warm vocal harmonies, plaintive piano figures, and classic song structures complete with sunshine dappled bridges. However, with its droning keyboard notes and digitally delayed chords there are contemporary flourishes present if one listens closely enough to the production.

On “Saturday Night Underwater,” the title cut from Frietas’ forthcoming fifth LP (slated for a June 7th release by Little Record Company), Freitas may be in the finest form of his career. A multi-instrumentalist who feels as cozy behind a drum kit as he does a piano or guitar, Frietas brings a holistic approach to his craft that allows the song’s various elements to gracefully gel. There is no doubt he has also benefited from his supporting roles to Conor Oberst and Broken Bells, for whom Freitas has performed as a touring band member.

“Saturday Night Underwater” feels like a fond reminiscence, its gentle progression carrying listeners along without effort. It is a style that recalls Mojave 3′s more recent forays into the studio (once they ditched Dylan in favor of Lennon) or the more relaxed of Kelley Stoltz‘s tracks. On the surface, it’s light, carefree stuff, but “Saturday Night Underwater” also has enough heart to elevate itself beyond the trappings of its pretty melodies.

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Night Driving in Small Towns “Barstool”

May 2011 MP3 Rewind

Rooney “I Don’t Wanna Lose You”