Mother Jones
The Head And The Heart Maggie Caldwell
There is a certain sound that became popular in indie music four or five years ago that seemed to have sprung forth in reaction to the gloomy mood of the Great Recession. It is a stripped down, bombast-free, rustic folk sound popularized by such acts as The Fleet Foxes, The Great Lake Swimmers, and Mumford and Sons. The songs often feature swelling choruses and invoke a spirit that rallies against the dying of the light. This boot-strap hitching, mellow optimism also has been the hallmark of a band of six strangers from Seattle, who, through mutual admiration of each other’s talents at open mic nights around the Emerald City, agreed to join forces, record an album, and head out on the road, recession be damned.
It’s been four years since the members of The Head and the Heart released their self-produced eponymous first album, a collection of heart-on-your-sleeve, piano-driven acoustic folk songs laced with violin; rounded out by a clean, driving percussion section; and driven home by gorgeous three-part vocal harmonies. Through heavy touring and word of mouth, they’ve sold more than 10,000 copies. And when Seattle’s Sub Pop label re-released an expanded edition in 2010, The Head and the Heart’s NPR darling status was sealed.
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