As we enter the second month of online CD reviews here at weeklyvolcano.com, the list of things I’ve learned continues to grow. I’m not talking about things I’ve picked up about music, rather things I’ve gleaned about reviewing records.  For one, from the reviewer’s perspective, a compilation can either be a blessing or a nightmare. The nice thing about a compilation is the diversity. If you don’t like a particular song or sound, it doesn’t doom the entire effort. The next song will be from an entirely different artist, who could (theoretically) be right down your alley. Stranger things have happened.



On the other hand, compilations are usually fucking l-o-n-g. It seems like there are always at least 20 songs on a compilation, and, as a reviewer, if things start to take a turn for the worse it could mean 45 minutes of audio waterboarding. I don’t wish that on anyone.



This week, in celebration of an awesome music festival that probably, like, four people from Tacoma are going to, I dove into Knw-Yr-Own Records’ soon to be released compilation No Band is an Island — which features 22 songs from 22 artists playing this weekend’s What the Heckfest in Anacortes.  The festival stretches from tomorrow (Friday, July 18) through Sunday (July 20), and is probably the coolest thing that ever happens in the tiny village. In its seventh year now, and the creation of Bret Lunsford whose name may sound familiar from his time in Beat Happening, What the Heckfest has never had a major sponsor, never had a big ass venue, or never had any real intention of making money. What it has had, thanks to Lunsford’s musical connections, is some of the best indie/underground/folk musical lineups you’ll find anywhere. Kimya Dawson, Mirah, Karl Blau, the Blow, Mt. Eerie and the king of Olympia himself, Calvin Johnson, are all annual performers at What the Heckfest.



But this isn’t really about this weekend’s festival; it’s about No Band is an Island, the compilation CD put together by Knw-Yr-Own to capture the essence of this weekend’s festival. Though No Band is an Island won’t be officially released until Aug. 5, which seems weird to me, when it does come out perhaps it can provide a retrospective glimpse at all the cool shit people who were at What the Heckfest this year saw, and what all of us here in Tacoma missed.



Right off the top, there’s one prejudice I must admit. What’s up with the movement to change “your” to “yr”? What hipster decided it was a good idea to drop all vowels?  I first ran into this practice working with a scarf wearing editor at the Portland Mercury. Portland is the hipster capital of the world. It bugged me then, and it bugs me today. When the package arrived this week from Knw-Yr-Own Records, immediately, thanks to the hatred I harbor, I held this against this week’s CD.



But I must admit. While I might hate their spelling, Knw-Yr-Own Records knows how to put together a compilation. In fact, No Band is an Island may be one of the top 10 best compilations I’ve ever heard. (Editor’s note: Matt Driscoll doesn’t actually have a top 10 list of best compilations. He just wanted to write something complimentary and figured no one would call his bluff.)



With 22 songs, No Band is an Island is long. There’s no way around it. Amazingly, though, the compilation never looses steam — a fact made even more impressive by the abundance of true blue alt folk that fills the disc. Usually, 22 folk songs (minus the record’s few oddball tracks) are enough to make me feel like I just washed a vicodin down with PBR. That much folk typically makes my eyelids heavy and ruins my posture.



No Band is an Island is different. Though plenty of slow, lyric based, slightly sleepy jams make this album what it is – a record that iTunes tells me falls in the folk genre; for every honestly beautiful, key tickling Mirah number, there’s a Sandman the Rapping Cowboy effort – who’s “Barack Obama (Will Rock Your Mama)” nearly steals the show. This is a record that takes you in a multiple directions, while never losing conformity — a feat not easily accomplished. Whether it was the skill of Knw-Yr-Own Records when they put No Band is an Island together, or just the overwhelming skill of the bands that grace this disc, I’m not sure. What I do know is, over the course of 22 songs, No Band is an Island never lost me.



Kimya Dawson lends her always endearing and a little vulnerable voice to “We’re All Animals” – a kid’s tune about pubic hair that’s also a record high point — but just as Dawson’s light and steady strum eases your soul with simplicity, the slow churned, multi layered groove of Graves’ “Dang You Dang You” brings a smile to your face with its texture. Karl Blau’s “You Can Use Your Words” is nothing short of amazing, and Bryan, Frank and Bob’s “She’s Not You” is what every cowboy heartbreak song should be. Throw in Coconut Coolouts’ “Do the Dolphin,” which injects a slap of punk into No Band is and Island, and the deal is sealed.



No Band is an Island may just be the perfect compilation. If you’re not going to What the Heckfest this weekend, you owe it to yourself to at least find this record. Maybe next year more than four people from Tacoma will make the trip north.