Tiny Desk Concerts - Video

Argentine singer-songwriter Federico Aubele uses his dark, husky voice to produce a specific effect in the three songs he performs at this Tiny Desk Concert: Together, they jell into one impressionistic midtempo ballad. A voice like Aubele's could be restrictive: His lower register seems to always reflect something dark and lonely. Think of your favorite bottom-scraping vocalist and the lyrics he or she interprets. But while touches of nostalgia and longing seep into both the words and the way he sings them, Aubele can also wrangle a shy smile and a whimsical raised eyebrow with that deep, emotive voice. It's perfect for his own expressive lyrics, which he sings in both Spanish and English — sometimes in the same song. And don't even get me started on his guitar playing

This is simply astonishing. Watch twenty seconds and you'll be sucked into the world of Usman Riaz, an immensely talented 23-year-old Pakistani musician who will change your perception of how a guitar can sound and be played. What's more remarkable is that this Berklee College of Music whiz kid learned much of his dazzling guitar technique by watching YouTube videos at 16. He also learned what he calls "parlor tricks," like body percussion and harmonica. But the classically trained pianist also used the Internet to learn how to write and conduct orchestra pieces and make films. If you're a skeptic, fine, just watch this youngest of TED senior fellows and be dazzled.

Courtney Barnett can tell you a story like she's your best friend — provided your best friend is a funny poet with an Australian accent. Listen to "Avant Gardener," an autobiographical account of trying to turn a life around through gardening, only to be foiled by a severe allergic reaction. The tale that follows at this Tiny Desk Concert, "History Eraser," is a ramble in an alcohol-fueled dream state; it features some of the best lyric-writing in music today. Here's a sample from that song: “I found an Ezra Pound and made a bet that if I found a cigarette I'd drop it all and marry you. Just then a song comes on: "You can't always get what you want" — The Rolling Stones, oh, woe is we, the irony! The Stones became the moss and once all inhibitions lost, the hipsters made a mission to the farm. We drove by tractor there, the yellow straw replaced our hair, we laced the dairy river with the cream of sweet vermouth.” The only downside for a fan like me is that these songs have been kicking around my head for more than a year. As she played them, I found myself hoping for something new, too. And so it was that Barnett graced the Tiny Desk with a brand-new tune, not yet on a record, about a suburb near Melbourne known as Preston; it's a song about house-hunting that she appropriately calls "Depreston." The song is thoughtful, acerbic and funny, just like the woman who sings it.

Courtney Barnett can tell you a story like she's your best friend — provided your best friend is a funny poet with an Australian accent. Listen to "Avant Gardener," an autobiographical account of trying to turn a life around through gardening, only to be foiled by a severe allergic reaction. The tale that follows at this Tiny Desk Concert, "History Eraser," is a ramble in an alcohol-fueled dream state; it features some of the best lyric-writing in music today. Here's a sample from that song: I found an Ezra Pound and made a bet that if I found a cigarette I'd drop it all and marry you. Just then a song comes on: "You can't always get what you want" — The Rolling Stones, oh, woe is we, the irony! The Stones became the moss and once all inhibitions lost, the hipsters made a mission to the farm. We drove by tractor there, the yellow straw replaced our hair, we laced the dairy river with the cream of sweet vermouth. The only downside for a fan like me is that these songs have been kicking around my head for more than a year. As she played them, I found myself hoping for something new, too. And so it was that Barnett graced the Tiny Desk with a brand-new tune, not yet on a record, about a suburb near Melbourne known as Preston; it's a song about house-hunting that she appropriately calls "Depreston." The song is thoughtful, acerbic and funny, just like the woman who sings it.

Tom Brosseau possesses one of the most arresting voices in folk music today. Many people who hear him sing, without knowing his name or face, assume the voice belongs to a woman, as he hovers somewhere around the countertenor range, with an unusually pure tone. The beauty of Brosseau's voice is magnified in this Tiny Desk Concert by the spare accompaniment of two acoustic guitars. Brosseau is on rhythm, accompanied by Sean Watkins. Watkins, who also plays and sings with Nickel Creek, produced and plays on Brosseau's new album, Grass Punks. Brosseau is unabashedly sentimental and earnest. It informs his plainspoken story-songs, which find beauty and light in heartfelt themes of love and yearning. But Brosseau also possesses a wry sense of humor; you can hear as much in "Cradle Your Device," a playful take-down of modern technology. The next song he performs, "Stuck on the Roof Again," tells a true story about the octogenarian newspaper columnist Marilyn Hagerty, who got stuck on the roof of her home in Grand Forks, N.D., after a heavy snowstorm. Brosseau closes his set with "Today Is a Bright New Day," a wistful reflection on lost love and the belief that no matter our past disappointments or missteps, the future is full of hope and opportunity.

Singer-songwriters Aimee Mann and Ted Leo are often at opposite ends of the volume knob. But what started as separate sets during a mutual tour, then a few walk-ons during Leo's solo set, is now an adventure in collaboration and mutual songwriting — and the birth of The Both. Months after this Tiny Desk Concert, which we recorded in February, there's an album. For the announcement of that record, Leo said, "The writing process has largely been long-distance, but it's been line by line, verse by verse, part by part; we'll send each other something and go back and forth until it's finished." When they showed up to play together at the Tiny Desk, there was a lot of uncertainty and a sense of adventure. The performances weren't about perfection so much as inspiration, with Mann rocking a bit more and Leo hunting for subtlety in his guitar playing. It wasn't compromise, though, so much as a creative challenge that's unfolding during this set — one of their earliest public performances of these songs. It's fascinating to watch them sing in uncharted territory.

Petra, Rachel and Tanya Haden are three sisters in love with the art of singing. Born in 1971 to a famous musical father (Charlie Haden is a world-class upright jazz bassist), they've separately taken on vastly different music projects. You may have heard Petra with The Decemberists or tackling the music of The Who a cappella. Tanya plays in Let's Go Sailing, while Rachel sometimes turns up with The Rentals and other projects. Together, they have a common love for American country and traditional songs, and that's what brought me to them and them to the Tiny Desk. Their new self-titled record is filled with what first made country music grand: songs by The Carter Family, Kitty Wells, Bill Monroe and many others. It's produced by Ry Cooder, an American legend, terrific slide guitarist and lover of all types of traditional music. At the Tiny Desk, you'll hear the traditional tone and effortless voices that only siblings can produce. It's a treat and a trip in time.

Malta, the island nation 50 miles south of Sicily, may be small, but it's home to one of the biggest stars in opera, tenor Joseph Calleja. And like his country's name, which may originate in the Greek word for honey, Calleja's voice is a potent mix of Italianate passion and sweetness. Just listen to how he pulls the volume back to a slender golden ray of tone several times in Tosti's gorgeous "Ideale," and especially the word "disciogliea" in the Puccini aria that closes this performance. His singing requires the breath support of a true athlete, which is key to launching soft sounds — even more than his roaring top notes — all the way up to the cheap seats. The ability to control dynamic levels and expressively shade notes and phrases were once techniques in nearly every singer's toolbox. But we don't hear as much subtlety these days, and that makes Calleja an especially refreshing throwback to pre-World War II singers such as the suave Tito Schipa and the magical Alessandro Bonci. It's a reason Calleja is in such demand from all of the world's top opera houses. Along with his voice, the tenor's burly good looks and acting skill have helped land him on the silver screen as well. He plays opera legend Enrico Caruso opposite Joaquin Phoenix and Marion Cotillard in The Immigrant, a story set on the gritty streets of 1920s New York. The film is expected to be in limited release in the U.S. beginning May 2. The best news of all is that Calleja is just 36. His voice is already changing, growing richer, bigger and a little darker than what you hear on his earliest recordings. With any luck, we'll have a few more decades to enjoy what is already one of the most impressive tenor voices of the past half century.  

When a performer has an exceptional night, we sometimes say he or she "left it all on stage" — the "it" being effort, energy, passion, sweat. To close a concert with a raw throat and a rumpled appearance signifies full disclosure, proof that the person on stage has held absolutely nothing back. Diane Cluck's performances, at their best, take a near-opposite approach: unfolding melodies of winding complexity without the barest hint of strain or struggle. A rich 15-year recording career precedes this year's Boneset, as thrilling a showcase of Cluck's clawed, counterintuitive fingerpicking and elastic voice as anything she's ever released. Witnessing the same process live, however, jams the senses — it's almost easier to imagine some tiny spirit in her chest is controlling the action, turning a pitch wheel with one hand and a tone knob with the other. In three songs at the Tiny Desk (two from Boneset and a sparkling new piano number, "Grandma Say") she broke focus only once, to answer a question as she strapped on a set of ankle bells for the set closer, "Sara." The bashful smile that attends her whispered reply — "I got them on eBay" — is a privilege to witness.

There was a haze over Jake Bugg when he arrived at the Tiny Desk. He was expressionless and quiet. That all changed when he strummed fast and fierce on his acoustic guitar and began a flow of words reminiscent of Greenwich Village in the '60s, not modern Clifton in England's East Midlands, where he grew up. Bugg is a prolific talent already working on his third record in as many years. His second album was produced by Rick Rubin and recorded in California. His recognition in the U.S. is still small, but that'll change — maybe even before we get that third record.

It's hard to convey the sound of two people in love, but Lowland Hum does that effortlessly. Daniel Levi Goans and Lauren Plank are now Daniel and Lauren Goans; they met a few years ago and spent much of their first married year on the road, singing together on small stages and at house concerts across the country. Daniel was a folksinger in North Carolina, while Lauren had aspirations to sing but mostly did it privately. She has a passion for making things with paper, and you'll see that in the little black book of lyrics she hands out at shows. This music is mostly unadorned and pure, with considerable attention to detail. Lauren's voice sounds refreshing and simple, and Daniel's passion shakes from his head and literally to his feet. They tour with a few homemade wooden platforms inlaid with small metal jingles — the kind you'd find on a tambourine — and that enhances Daniel's stomp. Together, they have one album called Native Air, and they joyfully perform three songs from that record here.

So I'm driving down the road when I hear this incredible voice coming out of my car speakers — part Janis Joplin, part Nina Simone — and I wonder, "Who is she?" That day, I'd ripped a number of CDs onto my phone and didn't remember which record this was. Upon a quick glance at my phone during a traffic light, I discover the name Asaf Avidan. Next traffic light, I look it up and I see a picture of a skinny, handsome white male. I figure that's a mistake — that I must have typed the wrong name — so I wait to get home. What I discovered floored me. Asaf Avidan is a 33-year-old, very well-known Israeli singer, formerly with a folkish rock band with gold records called Asaf Avidan & The Mojos. He's now on his own with a solo record and no U.S. record label to put it out, but he's on a solo tour that's stunning. He stopped us all cold when he began to sing at the Tiny Desk. There's a disconnect, when you watch this, between what you see and what you hear. And those songs that he writes? Well, he truly understands his voice, and they're just some of the best tunes I've heard in a long time.

It wasn't an easy road to the Tiny Desk for the four guys from Louisiana who make up Brass Bed. Their tour, for the band's debut album The Secret Will Keep You, was plagued from the start: Singer Christiaan Mader had the flu, there was a death in the family and multiple dates had to be canceled. Their van was broken into and their instruments stolen. So when they heard that a big snowstorm was headed for D.C. at the same time they were to play the Tiny Desk, it felt like yet another bad omen. Fortunately, they got in just ahead of the first snowflakes and performed a memorable set, as they re-created some of the stellar studio effects on The Secret Will Keep You with a simple but potent pedal steel and bow. For the ethereal closing track from the album, "Have to Be Fine," the guys produced reverb effects by singing a cappella into plastic novelty microphones they'd picked up at a store just outside of D.C. As soon as Brass Bed's members finished their set, the lifelong Southerners graciously accepted a complimentary ice scraper in case they got into more trouble on the road. But it wasn't enough to get them out of the District; the storm they were trying to avoid snowed them in for an extra night. We wish they could have stayed, and played, even longer.

A drum from the Argentine Pampas fuels the music of Sofia Rei in this video: The way Franco Pinna has it incorporated into a traditional drum set serves as a musical metaphor for the music Rei performs alongside Pinna and guitarist/bassist JC Maillard. Rei carries the accent and spirit of her native Argentina in her jazz-infused vocals. She's successfully carved out a spot for herself within a small and exclusive group of vocalists from Latin America who, after spending their formative years in their own countries, came to the U.S. to blend folklore, jazz and classic influences into singing that feels both familiar and new. For about 20 minutes one sunny afternoon, the NPR Music offices were converted into a small Latin American folk club, where Rei treated us to stellar musicianship and genre-bending music. Que les difruten!  

The Beatles may be an odd place to begin a Cate Le Bon conversation, but I remember being struck by the way four guys from Liverpool could sing without their English accents. That's true of most pop singers, whose words often come out sounding more American than anything else. But that's not true with Cate Le Bon. Her phrasing is completely tied to her Welsh dialect — in fact, her first record was in Welsh. I find that that draws me into her songs: The enunciation is completely tied to the loneliness and the questioning. One song she sings at the Tiny Desk, from her brilliant album Mug Museum, is called "Are You With Me Now?" There is a feeling I love Buried in my brow I have no reason to run I see no reason Are you with me now? Listen to the inflection in the line 'Buried in my brow,' and then when she poses the question; it's so intimate, such a whisper, so inviting. I'm also a fan of her clean, sharp guitar playing and the way she weaves it together with her partner H. Hawkline. If you're a fan of Tom Verlaine and Television, you'll find yourself loving this lyrical guitar duo. It works so well stripped-down, though there wasn't much excess in the original versions to begin with. These are songs of essence, clarity and drive, executed so simply here.