“Lemon Drop Hammer” (Secret Monkey Records)
By Eleni P. Austin
Secret Monkey Weekend has just released their sophomore record, Lemon Drop Hammer. The band’s unique origin story gives the term “family band” a new twist. Ella Brown Hart (bass/vocals) and Lila Brown Hart (drums/vocals) first connected with Jefferson Hart (guitar/vocals)when he began teaching Ella guitar, not long after their dad, Matt Brown died in 2012.
Matt, a beloved figure in the Durham, North Carolina music community suffered a fatal heart attack. His daughters were only four and nine at the time. He had played drums several local outfits like John Howie Jr. & The Rosewood Bluffs, the Penny Prophets, Stratocruiser and The Venables. His most prominent gig was touring with ex- Husker Du-er, Grant Hart. He had also played with another well-known local, Jefferson Hart, who had some success fronting Jeff Hart & The Ruins, which later morphed into Jefferson Hart & Ghosts Of The Old North State. Jefferson began giving Ella guitar lessons and a relationship with their mom slowly developed.
Pretty soon, Jefferson, Ella and Lila began playing music together just for the fun of it. Ella had picked up the bass, and Lila chose drums, knowing their dad, Mark, had been proficient at both. Jamming gave way to actual songwriting, and they became Secret Monkey Weekend, a moniker inspired by an ancient Tiger Beat magazine headline. By 2016, they were playing casual shows around town. Fast-forward six years and they released their debut, All The Time In The World, produced by the legendary Don Dixon (R.E.M., Marshall Crenshaw, Smithereens). The band’s trajectory was compelling enough to warrant an Emmy-winning, 2023 PBS documentary, Secret Monkey Weekend. Now they’re back with their new long-player, Lemon Drop Hammer.
The record opens with “So Much Joy.” Hitting that sweet spot between Garage Rock and Psychedelia, jangly guitars tangle with kaleidoscopic keys, buoyant bass and a tick-tock beat. Lila takes the lead on vocals, each verse bookended by “whoa-whoa-whoa” backing vocals. Introspective lyrics like “Summer weather, dark demeanor, always have to be an appeaser, hundreds of days just spent alone in bed, but I’ve found a spark to fill my days instead,” veer from dark to light. But the anthemic chorus consciously flips the script: “So much joy I don’t know how to feel it, so much love I just can’t conceal it, but the love I feel makes me feel like I belong.” Jefferson unleashes a stinging guitar solo on the break, accented by tinkly toy piano. Spiraling wah-wah riffs color the song’s instrumental coda.
Lead vocals are split pretty evenly on this 10-song set between Lila and Jefferson. He especially shines on “Walking Between Raindrops” and the title track. The former is an elastic Rocker that weds lanky guitar and thumping bass to a propulsive beat. Colloquial lyrics sketch out the scene of a not-so chance meeting: “I caught your eye from a distance, you caught your hair in a tangle, as you walked against the traffic light, a most peculiar angle, I walked under the bus stop and I made room for another, I offered you my New York Times, you read it cover to cover, found the nerve to ask your name and said it without telegraphing, my name was on my work shirt, somehow we broke up laughing.” A twangy electric guitar solo rides roughshod on the break, tethered to some thin, mercurial side guitar. The latter is powered by a pounding backbeat, wily bass lines and guitar licks that split the difference between Surfin’ and Spyin.’ Jefferson’s reedy tenor envelops lyrics that offer a stinging rebuke to a brazen and duplicitous minx: “You should be ashamed, you should be a’ sleepin,’ I can tell it’s you by the way you com a’ creepin,’ you’re spillin’ my drink and I stop and stammer, but ya comin’ on to me like a Lemon Drop Hammer.” The sisters offer sympathetic “Ah ah-ah-ah-ah’s” between verses, and a sandblasted guitar solo is slashes through the break. It’s followed by the final blow: “You tellin’ me lies that you can’t remember, I’m slow as molasses on the last of December, your mamma’s on the chain gang and daddy’s in the slammer, you’re jammin’ me up like a Lemon Drop Hammer.”
As good as those songs are, the album’s best tracks showcase Lila’s voice, which echoes antecedents like Juliana Hatfield and Liz Phair. Take “Merida,” a bossy stomp that’s anchored by a walloping beat, pliant bass, squiggly Wurlitzer, and ringing guitars. Lyrics unspool an unabashed ode to the family’s enigmatic cat: “Merida, plays contrarian, gave her a nudge and she won’t budge for the Veterinarian, Merida, kitty esoterica, making biscuits on the blanket, queen of North America.” A bendy guitar solo mirrors the kittenish equivocation.
Meanwhile, “We Can Be Friends” is told from a child’s perspective. Chiming guitars wash over boinging bass lines and a kick-drum beat. There are just a few ingredients involved in cultivating a friendship when you’re a kid: “We can be friends-we can be friends, I like ponies, dolls and shoes, you like bugs and kittens too, we can be friends-we can be friends, I like foxes, trains and zoos, you like me and I like you.” As Lila and Jefferson’s vocals intertwine, their blend recalls the effortless harmonies of The Mamas & The Papas as well as The Magic Numbers. A Byrdsy 12-string solo on the break is reinforced by swoony keys.
By “Things You Threw Away,” everyone has had to grow up fast. A poignant treatise on what is and isn’t left behind, it’s co-written by Ella and Jefferson. It opens tentatively with Lila’s plaintive vocals, scratchy guitars and shivery strings, lyrics address Matt’s absence: “When I’m unraveling the past, I see a lifetime would have never been enough, we only had a fraction of that, but your things help me paint a picture.” As the drums ratchet, time signatures shift, folding into a sunshiny chorus: “Things you threw away (things you threw away), I’ll keep it all, no matter what they say, what’s lost to you (to me it’s new), things you threw away, bring me closer to you, you, you.” Willowy guitars dart across the break with an open-hearted grace that attempts to camouflage the ache.
Finally, “Way Way Out” is the album’s most intriguing and ambitious track. Swirly, hypnotic guitars are matched by swaying keys, skittish bass lines and a woozy beat. Southern Gothic lyrics hint at a mystic, crystal visage: “It came from way, way out, I don’t wanna find out, ghosts in the trees and all the ships at sea, angels on the shore sing ‘Bringing In The Sheaves,’ now I lay me down to sleep, this one’s for keeps, Mississippi runs deep, this one isn’t cheap.” Jefferson rips a swaggering AOR-ish solo on the break that sneakily shapeshifts into a sideways wah-wah’d homage to Mick Taylor’s fleet-fingered ascent on the Stones’ “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking.” Meanwhile, the rest of the arrangement remains suitably spooky and wildly hallucinogenic
Other interesting tracks include the stuttery seduction of “Naoma,” and a faithful version of “Na Nanana,” originally recorded by Athens Ga.’s own The Squalls. The album closes in a slam-bang fashion with “Mimi,” another tribute to an enigmatic feline friend.
This record is truly a family affair, but Ella, Jefferson and Lila get by with a little help from their friends. Peter Holsapple on combo organs, celeste, Wurlitzer, electric piano, Emu Tron strings, B3 and piano. Brian Yamamoto adds electric and lead guitar. Producer Don Dixon augments a couple tracks with trombone and slide guitar.
Lemon Drop Hammer deftly sidesteps the dreaded sophomore slump. The album is equal parts sweet and tart, sharp and sincere, crisp and concise. It’s pretty hard to resist. So why try?
