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The Orange Spotlight
Ellen Kennedy - Sometimes My Heart Pushes My Ribs (Muumuu House, March 20th)
At the age of 20, Ellen Kennedy has created a collection of poetry that is relevant, sad, and filled with the struggles of boredom. Her collection opens with a fascinating short story about the nervousness and romance of Woody Allen. It reminded a little of Chris Killen's hilarious account of the life of Paul Simon, but "Eooby Mobby" draws you into the depths of Allen's fears and thoughts and mundane activities. She touches on companionship, social struggles, and passionate lemon sex.
Ellen's poetry uses everyday objects and situations to express feelings of fear, anger, nervousness, and an overall feeling that she needs to be something else. She focuses on the interactions that we might take for granted but adds a twist, a raw emotion, that really drives this collection forward. From Clif Bars to Oranges to a day in the life of Norm MacDonald, Ellen uses the life around her to relate to a universal reader.
Like Bells - Self-Titled (Exit Stencil Records, May 2009)
The challenge of instrumental music is not in the listening experience, but the challenge is to keep the listener's attention. When you think about it with jazz, classical, and electronic music there is a good percentage of music is instrumental. However, there has always been a stigma associated with instrumental rock. Ohio's Like Bells have found the formula to break the boredom and expand the genre.
Gabe Baker (guitar), Will Mason (drums), and Garret Openshaw (strings) create a lush, but intricate sound. Their songs are more rhythmic and fast paced than chamber-pop, but have many similar elements. Of course the music can be compared to Do Make Say Think, Foxhole, and Sigur Ros, but the patterns they create on their forthcoming self-titled album are somehow more compelling. The band met at the famed Oberlin College/Oberlin Music Conservatory, and like so many of Oberlin's alumni, they have created an indie gem full of life, Americana, thought, and movement.

















