Copper Press #19 A Little Less You Talk, A Little More You Think $5.00 (includes double CD) For more information or to subscribe, visit CopperPress.com.

Copper Press #19 starts off strong with an eye-grabbing hot pink cover and a few good-to-great articles. First up is one on The Wrens, certainly the biggest name here. Eric J. Iannelli focuses little on the band's music and more on their back story, documenting their return from years in record label limbo, their fixation with and attraction to New Jersey and their double lives as office temps. Although I still have no idea what The Wrens sound like (and wince at the author tossing in a term like Torschlusspanik, or "what the Germans call mild anxiety or despair"), Iannelli's interview with guitarist Charles Bissell is both illuminating and down-to-earth.

Next, Tobias Carroll profiles "Southern indie rock" outfit Lucero. His anecdotal intro gets more at what the band is about than his subsequent interview with humble, plainspoken frontman Ben Nichols, but both author and subject come off affably enough. Later, Carroll returns with a superior article on the inimitable Frog Eyes in which he unerringly communicates their complex, hard-to-pin-down sound. Leader Carey Mercer makes for such a fascinating subject -- much calmer and saner than he appears on record -- that you wonder why this piece didn't take Lucero's plum spot.

Splendid scribe Christian Carey contributes a well-rounded piece on seventy-year-old free jazz pianist Borah Bergman that examines his crossed-handed technique, his recent catalog and collaborations. It also weaves in a little biography and concludes with some noteworthy quotes from Bergman on the challenges he sets in pushing himself forward at such a late stage in his career. It's always a nice to see a rag like this expand its coverage to genres outside its indie rock core.

After the Bergman article, the quality gradually drops off. A piece on The Decemberists isn't necessarily bad, just a little overwritten ("In this way he is much more akin to a writer, and a writer is what he is") and calling out for more quotes from the band's Colin Meloy. A piece on Brother JT has the opposite issue; it could use less ramblings from the good Brother and more analysis, especially when author Michael McLeod is capable of injecting sly phrases like "full frontal mental nudity" into his critique. A defensive article on instrumentalists Pelican and a vague piece on Gift Anon, self-described "soft rockers" from Utah, are pedestrian at best and suitably left to stew in the back pages.

That leaves maddeningly contrasting Q-and-As with two visual artists. The first, with San Francisco-based music photographer Andrew Paynter, establishes a comfortable, laid-back tone that's in sync with Paynter's genial, optimistic nature. An attractive twelve-page spread features pictures of icons (The White Stripes), cult favorites (Blonde Redhead), the NYC subway, and an amazing shot of his friend Todd Coleman (what makes it amazing is too good to give away here). The other Q-and-A, with controversial artist Steve Keene, is more like a train wreck. Keene's blunt, cranky one-word answers utterly sink the interview. Since his work has seemingly little to do with music (apart from album covers he drew for The Apples in Stereo and Silver Jews), you have to wonder why the editors deemed his inclusion worthy.

As usual with CP, the layout and design is a cut above most zines. A typically beautiful touch is a two-page photo illustrating Bergman's crossed-handed technique at the keyboard. Even a minor misstep, like slightly blurred shots of Frog Eyes, works because such elusiveness only adds to the band's mystique. As with the last few issues, it also comes with a double disc sampler CD. This time, the only band to cross over from print to audio is Gift Anon; the rest is decidedly (and deservedly) obscure, and a little heavy on overambitious male-centric prog/drone; on the second disc, we don't even get to a female vocalist until track 15! You'll hear some genuinely alluring and bizarre stuff (clarinet-led cabaret from Casey Meehan, theatrical pseudo-metal from Days and Nights in the Skeleton Crew), but you have to wade through a lot of dreck to find it.

Given Jennifer Kelly's dissatisfaction with Issue #18, it appears that CP has hit a little slump. Sure, a few articles are worth your time, but at an age when print zines are rapidly going the way of the dodo, this one needs to show a little more consistency in order to survive.

-- Chris Kriofske