Light in the Attic Records

has been hitting it out of the park lately with a slew of hand-picked reissues and compilations you shouldn’t pass up. Read on for our reviews of a few exceptional titles; check lightintheattic.net for more about the roster; and don’t miss the first annual Light in the Attic Summer Spectacular, with Donnie & Joe Emerson, Alex Maas of the Black Angels, and Overton Berry of the Wheedle’s Groove series.

Light in the Attic Warehouse, 913 N.W. 50th St. 3 p.m. Sat., July 12. Free.

Donnie & Joe Emerson,

Still Dreamin’ Wild: The Lost Recordings 1979–81 (Digital, CD, and vinyl out June 17) The unlikely saga that accompanied the 2012 reissue of Donnie and Joe Emerson’s wonderfully AM-ready Dreamin’ Wild went like this: Back in the late ’70s, thinking the kids were really onto something, their father mortgaged his Fruitland, Wash., farm to buy the boys professional recording equipment and build them a concert venue where they could play for fans. It all cost $100,000—and then most of the farm when the record didn’t sell and concerts didn’t materialize. Dreamin’ Wild was pure hope manifested on vinyl, and, rediscovered and re-released by Light in the Attic, it feels like listening to teenage optimism itself. If it represents a wild fantasy cooked up in a part of the state that makes Moses Lake seem cosmopolitan, the Emersons’ follow-up shows what happens when those fantasies start to falter. Still Dreamin’ is not a reissue, but a collection of tracks recorded from 1979 to 1981 that either didn’t make the cut for the first album or were intended for a later record that never came to be. It was a trying time for the brothers: One of their best friends, who sings backup on Dreamin’ Wild, died in a car crash; Donnie made a disillusioned foray into the L.A. music scene; and with the music business not going as planned, they had to make a difficult decision about whether to get a real job or continue to reach for the stars. Musically, Still Dreamin’ has Dreamin’ Wild ’s irrepressible, synth-pop optimism, but this time, some anguish peeks through the lyrics. Nothing serious—“Why do you ride the tide/That takes you away from me? . . . Tonight I cry a lover’s cry”—but still there’s an emotional depth that makes the album feel more substantial than its predecessor. A few songs clock in at over four minutes, which gets trying given the music’s simplicity. But for the most part, Still Dreamin’ is as comfy and inviting as an afternoon snooze. DANIEL PERSON

Lewis,

L’amour (digital and CD out now, vinyl out July 22) Today I fell in love. Randall Wulff, aka Lewis, in the cover art of this circa-1983 release, looks like James Spader as Steff in Pretty in Pink; his hair too blonde and too feathered, his barely-there chest hair both repulsive and erotic. According to liner notes, what little is known of the artist is that he lived posh, with a white convertible Mercedes and a devastatingly gorgeous girlfriend, and vanished soon after the album was released. Like so many LITA releases, Lewis’ story is cloaked in mystery and intrigue; to this day his whereabouts remain unknown. The fact that he self-released L’Amour in Los Angeles, combined with using his handsome mug for artwork, hints at a superficial attempt at fame—but the album is “something else” entirely, revealing, upon multiple listens, a thoughtful and intelligent soul. A lovesick soul at that, as evidenced by song titles such as “I Thought the World of You,” “Things Just Happen That Way,” and my favorite, “Even Rainbows Turn Blue.” The sound is delicate and whisper-like, embodying none of the surf rock or sunscreened pop we associate with L.A. Soft washes of piano and guitar waft over Wulff’s voice—a tone that’s mysterious and mesmerizing, just like his far-off look on the cover. It’s the perfect album for when you’re “in a mood” or just wanting to feel blue, yet it’s not something you can put on in the background to drown your sorrows. L’amour demands active, primary listening—preferably while laying on the ground, hands folded to your chest, looking up at the ceiling, lonely teardrop optional. DIANA M. LE

Wheedle’s Groove,

Seattle Funk, Modern Soul, and Boogie, Vol. II, 1972–1987 (digital, CD, and two-platter vinyl box set out now) Fifth in the Wheedle’s Groove series (which comprises the first compilation, Seattle’s Finest in Funk & Soul 1965–75; an original album; a limited-edition box set of 45s; and an award-winning documentary), this installment examines the Pacific Northwest funk and soul scene through an even wider lens, cutting a 15-year swath through the disco-flecked boogie pop of the ’70s to the synthed-up R & B of the late ’80s. Unlike the 10 years of music presented in Vol. 1—groove-laden, “Superfly”-like cuts—Vol. II chronicles the genre’s evolution through its incorporation of a new range of sounds and textures, like synthesizers and drum machines. At one end of the spectrum, there’s the conga-dappled, Otis Redding-lite “Let’s Backtrack” (Cold, Bold, & Together, 1972); by 1987, Seattle soul sounds more like Septimus’ “Here I Go Again,” with its greasy-rock guitar solo and programmed drum-machine beats (though still flecked with congas). Then there’s a special ode to the “Kingdome” (1982), with a tongue-in-cheek “Superbowl Shuffle” vibe, by former Mariners third baseman Lenny Randle and a crew of his “Ballplayers”—an apt entry point to discuss the volume’s larger appeal as a historical document, a funky time capsule of bygone Seattle. Back in the ’70s and ’80s, Seattle was decades away from being the dining destination and live-music capital it is today; in a recent essay, Knute Berger pegged the Emerald City back then as “a cold, gray way station on the road to hell.” Yet as each track is expounded on in the liner notes (by the featured acts themselves), listeners get a strong sense of the scene that was—one that, with each new addition to the Wheedle’s Groove catalog, appears to have inextinguishable soul. GWENDOLYN ELLIOTT

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