Ivan & Alyosha, John Neilson & the Beauty of No Expectations

The best thing about being a music writer is that you get sent a lot of free music. That’s also the worst thing. As with any art form, there’s a lot of crap out there. But oftentimes unexpected treasures will remind you that it’s worth it to sift through the shit.

When Ivan & Alyosha’s sophomore album, It’s All Just Pretend (out May 5 on Dualtone), hit my mailbox, I was decidedly ho-hum about receiving it. I first encountered this Seattle band four years ago, when I co-hosted Marty Riemer’s live podcast. Ivan & Aylosha, which takes its name from The Brothers Karamazov, were competent and pleasant-sounding, but I left Marty’s basement not remembering much of what I’d just heard, and lumped them in with any number of Head & the Heart wannabes.

Jesus, was I off. First impressions, I’m happy to report, aren’t everything. With Tim Wilson’s operatic voice at the fore, It’s All Just Pretend is reminiscent of Bends-era Radiohead. It’s a brilliantly dynamic record, equal parts glammy, noisy, rootsy, and melodic. At its core, this is a quintet which is unafraid of classically structured pop-rock crescendos, with the title track, “Come Rain, Come Shine,” “Tears In Your Eyes,” “All This Wandering Around,” and “Something Is Wrong” hitting the bullseye. But the other six tracks are all over the dartboard (in a good way!); by album’s end, you’re left wondering if there’s any type of music this band can’t play.

When I recently received Austin singer-songwriter John Neilson’s CD, Tomorrow Comes the Spring, my expectations couldn’t have been lower. The jacket art looks as though it was churned out by a vintage laser printer, and Neilson’s press materials tout his past collaborations with LA Guns and Sophie B. Hawkins. Damn (!), I wish I’d run for cover.

I’m glad I didn’t, although Neilson’s album is perfect for a rainy evening. Los Angeles is omnipresent on Tomorrow Comes the Spring, with lights and stars and shady figures stepping out of the shadows. Quietly croak-singing in his lower register, Neilson sounds like Shawn Mullins filtered through a tumbler of whiskey. But then—wham! (I wish I was your lover)—his songs flutter and soar along with his voice, jarring and soothing the listener all at once. “Take a Shot,” “End of the Road” and the album’s strongest track, “Columbian Cocaine”  (it must be from Missouri), start out as one song and finish as another entirely, with dramatic three-minute-mark tempo shifts. It shouldn’t work, but it does, as is often the case with an equally talented Texas troubadour, Bob Schneider.