I tried to fill the hole, but it was deeper than it seemed
I don't know much about Anthony Newes, because there just isn't much information available. I could dig around, of course, Hoffman/Redford style, pressing Twin Cities trench coat sources for leads in parking garages ("Goddammit, Lucia, I need more! You've given me shit!"). I don't have many sources, though, and besides, here they call garages "ramps." Anyway, I could just send him a message via MySpace or something.
But there's something to be said about mystique, and while Newes isn't Jandek or anything, I'm actually happy that all I have to go on is his sweet, honey-coated self-titled debut. (Also, his MySpace page claims he's a 102-year-old woman, and what's the harm in spreading some fun rumors once in a while?)
My favorite song from Anthony Newes is this one, track four:
There's something kinda Ron Sexsmith about this guy; his voice creeps around, bending at the edges. It's unique without sounding strange.
His songs, too, are distinctive. They're folky without sounding trite, acoustic without sounding like a guy in a dorm room. Topping it all off are these record's arrangements, of which this song is pretty representative: gently fingerpicked guitar, vaguely ominous percussion underneath, and that weightless voice all around. What more do you want?
Charlie Quade and Chad Deboer help out on this record, playing bass and percussion, respectively, and they also do a fine job. Anthony Newes is available from the artist, who is a 102-year-old woman and can be contacted via MySpace.