OUR WEEKLY COLLECTION OF SHORTER REVIEWS | |
Telto,
Paul Dutton,
Colonel Jeffrey Pumpernickel,
Proletarian Art Threat,
Robert Scott,
Imaginary Bill,
The Sound of Rails,
Bis,
Hotbox,
Shearwater,
Arlo,
Jori Hulkkonen,
Kipper Tin,
Saso,
Calendar Girl,
Keoki,
dZihan and Kamien,
Inches to Flood,
Knievel,
The Cautions,
Luna,
David Fesette,
December's Children,
Dereck
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Telto / Bugged / D2 (CD)
Telto seems to take a perverse pleasure in collecting and
listing the disparate musical comparisons that arise when
publications review Bugged. The comparisons vary
broadly because Telto has found that all-important midpoint
between label sampler variety and every-song-sounds-alike
homogeneity; while Bugged can clearly be identified
as Telto's work, there's no simple formula that can be
applied to each song. Songwriter/vocalist/guitarist Leslie
Dean is a creative dynamo, favoring unpredictable minor-key
melodies and post-goth psychedelic sprawl over standard pop
song progression. I'll add a few reference points for the
band's trophy wall: their more rocking moments recall
Fetchin' Bones, while Dean's passionately quirky vocal
delivery hints not only at the mid-eighties 4AD stable, but
also at the flat-out weirdness of Caterwaul (a band from the
late '80s that I think I may have hallucinated). Every moment
on Bugged builds toward the spectacular "Touch", which
closes the disc with a gorgeous flood of sustained
minor key angst. Dean works herself into a furious lather
as the guitars peak in a cathartic explosion of sound. Even
if the rest of the record fails to engage you -- which I
find doubtful -- you'll listen to "Touch" again and again. -- gz
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Paul Dutton / Mouth Pieces / OHM Editions
(CD)
Never heard of "sound poetry"? How about
"non-idiomatic free improvisation"? In
essence sound poetry -- which also draws on language poetry's
decontextualizing experiments in form -- uses the mostly-wordless
explosions of sound from the vocal chords, mouth, tongue and breath to
construct tone poems filled with pure intonation. Canadian writer and
veteran sound poet Dutton, who has extensive publishing and
performing credits, here offers his own exploration of
"acoustic oral soundwork." Despite the recent popularity of spoken word
slams and performance poetry, this disc carries little emotional
resonance. Many of the pieces evoke the death throes of various
animals. "Lips Is" sounds
like air escaping from a tire as you're cruising down the highway;
"Jazzstory" starts with a repeated string of actual words, followed by
more noise -- like a child imitating a car crash -- and then more words
which slip into grossly realistic spitting. "Other Than" resembles a mosquito buzzing by your ear; is there a more annoying sound? There's enough diversity here that you'll find yourself
flummoxed in many different ways, and most of the pieces are mercifully
short. Call this what you will -- experimental, avant garde -- but it still
sounds uncomfortably close to the kind of gibberish people change seats
on a bus to avoid. -- rt
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Various Artists / Colonel Jeffrey Pumpernickel / Off (CD)
As far as I know, Colonel Jeffrey Pumpernickel is the world’s first
concept compilation. The brainchild of Chris Slusarenko (of
Sprinkler and Svelt fame), the record follows the good Colonel through a
series of allergy-induced hallucinations, each represented in song
form. Slusarenko’s new outfit Goldcard provides all of the incidental
music for the album, including the oddly baroque "Prologue" and
"Epilogue", which bookend the album’s stellar list of contributions.
Guided by Voices head-honcho Robert Pollard has penned a pair of new
songs for the compilation. "Titus and Strident Wet Nurse (Creating
Jeffrey)" begins the story in fine fashion, while "Reprise (Destroying
Jeffrey)" brings it to a bitter end. The rest of the story is filled in
bit by peculiar bit by the likes of Quasi (the whimsical "Which Side are You on Colonel"), The Minus 5 (the buoyant psychedelic
gem "The Great Divider (My Ruffled Sleeve)") and Grandaddy (a creeping
and haunting paean to the good Colonel, "L.F.O."). Poster Children, The
Minders, Sebadoh offshoot Sentridoh, Mary Timony and Stephen Malkmus
fill in additional gaps in the Colonel’s journey. The album also features some
rather obtuse liner notes by Richard Meltzer
(author of A Whore Like All the Rest) and full-color
artwork by Joe Sacco, Peter Bagge and Kim Deitsch. Most
listeners will be drawn to the album's amazing list of
contributors, but the strange and captivating story will keep them coming back. -- jj
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Proletarian Art Threat packs a mean punch into 15 minutes
of punk fury. "Not Bad Looking for a Normal" is a veritable
hit and run, its machine gun beat nicely coupled with
thrashing guitars and shredded vocals. The song leaves you
feeling like you've been run over by a tank. "Black
Helicopters / Z (He Is Alive)" is slightly more deliberate
in tempo and tenor, but no less aggressive. Its key lyric
is "You can't have democracy and still have the pigs!" The
title makes a clear allusion to the 1969 Yves Montand film,
although the exact nature of the link is unclear, due mainly
to totally incomprehensible singing. The only part I could
make out was something about a microchip in the brain that
causes apathy while Freemasons conduct ritual murder, rape
and the burning of women and children en masse. This is
great stuff as far as over-the-top conspiracy theories or
Weekly World News headlines go. The rest of the album is
more of the same. Anarchist conspiricy theories and
bombastic musical attacks generally make for an entertaining
ride, if you can manage to avoid taking it all too
seriously. -- nw
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Robert Scott / The Creeping Unknown / Thirsty
Ear (CD)
You may be familiar with Scott's work as frontman of
New Zealand band The Clean, or perhaps you've heard his
work with The Bats or
The Magic Heads. Don't expect the same succinct
jangle-pop harmony from The Creeping Unknown. While some songs,
including "Fog and Wind" and the mellifluously sublime "2nd Hand
Air", tap into lush harmony, bolstered by Scott's
reclining whispers, the brunt of the album avoids any
semblance of order. It's almost as Scott went to
producer Nigel Bunn and said, in a thick New Zealand-drawl, "Nige! I've got a great idea for a song! It's 34 seconds of me punching at random notes on the
synthesizer!" Then, a week later, he'd follow that idea
up with "Hey, you won't
believe what I thought of last night! You remember my
synth idea, right? Well, how about we add ten more songs
of me punching away at various instruments? I just
bought a new mandolin and a mellotron at some old
lady's garage sale!" Advice for the 2020 reissue of The
Creeping Unknown: cut the album's nineteen songs
to a sound five and release it -- to resounding critical
acclaim -- as an EP. -- jw
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Imaginary Bill / Self-Titled / Sportin' Company (CD)
Finally, here's some great melodic pop from three New York state gents, who've combined a
bit of the Beatles, Costello and Radiohead into a modern day mix. Rouach
and Slattery definitely have a knack for singing some heavenly harmonies, as tunes like
"Polio" and "Doped Up" satiate your need for something fresh-yet-familiar in the
melody department. This trio sounds as comfortable plodding forward at an even
pace as it does letting the distortion hurl an occasional riff at ya. There's no
doubting that this may be one of the better self-released CDs you've heard in quite some time, as
everything from the songwriting to the packaging is top notch. Now if we could just get
these guys to change their band name to something a bit wittier, we'll have an outfit that's
solid on all fronts. -- am
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The Sound of Rails / Prelude of Hypnotics / Caulfield (CD)
Far from hypnotic, the first three minutes of "The Nervous System" is a true
adrenaline rush: drummer Eric Ernst pounds away and away, unable to come
down from the thrill of playing to tape, while bassist Chris Palmquist makes
each chord put a noogie on your brain. It always makes me crave alcohol,
regardless of the time of day. Assuming you keep the first song playing past
its first few minutes, you'll also get to hear guitarist John Kestner's vocals.
As group leader, I'm sure he's integral to his band's successes; his
voice, though, is also its major drawback. Aside from the lyrics -- bland emo ramblings that seem to exist only to prevent your own beat-driven daydreams from blossoming -- the only feeling the sound of his
voice generates is irritation. If Kestner sang "I ate a good apple", his
voice would say "Many apples are better, and I'm left with just a good one".
Depending on your generosity, you either sympathize or wish he'd just shut
up. Regardless, Kestner's vocals make "The Nervous System", and all
the tracks on which he sings, something of a drag; rather than prettified
Smiths-like melancholy, this is very real "I'm-annoyed-at-life" angst. You
might think that's the kind of "punk" you want, but there aren't many
people who'd choose a Sonic Death track over "Teenage Riot". I
certainly wouldn't, which leaves me going back to instrumental track
"The Coal Porter" and those first few sublime moments of "The Nervous
System". -- td
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Bis / Music for a Stranger World / Lookout! (CD)
Can there be any stranger world than one in which bouncy
techno-poppers Bis are signed to a stalwartly punk rock
label like Lookout? Probably not. When they're not busy
dropping new wave references and video game blips left and
right, Bis seem determined to prove that they've matured,
albeit subtly, since 1999's Social Dancing. The
music is actually pretty interesting, from the straightforward
bubble-and-stomp of "Dead Wrestlers" to the heavily textured
acoustic guitar technopop of "How Can We Be Strange?".
"Beats at the Office" does an excellent job of building a
compelling tune around an intriguing vocal sample, resulting
in a maddeningly catchy song that Barcelona really ought to
cover. And best of all, vocalist Manda Rin seems
comparatively restrained here; she's still as perky as a
three-year-old on crank, but someone finally seems to have taken her aside
and told her that she can be incredibly irritating and shrill, which adds
nothing to the music. There are a few places where she gets out of hand,
but mostly she's quieter. Thank God. -- gz
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You can't get less subtle than San Fransico's Hotbox. With a blindingly
fast take on pop-punk, this quintet lays their libidos on the line for
thirteen tracks. The band's defining feature is lead singer Mel Chappell,
whose howl is powerful enough to knock Joan Jett on her ass. By including
just enough melody in her caterwaul, Chappell infuses the songs with
infinitely more sex than the lusty cover suggests. The band's primary difficulty is
that its songs tend to drag out a bit too long. "You Adore Me" is fun
enough to begin with, but the final repetitions of the chorus sap much of
the heat Hotbox has worked so hard to build up. Because of this, despite
some very good moments, the album is a bit much to swallow all at once. -- rd
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Shearwater / The Dissolving Room / Grey Flat (CD)
Comparing yourself to Nick Drake, Will Oldham, and Jeff Buckley is an
invitation to a beheading: I'm a harsh critic, those guys are über-menschen,
and I have a low "sad bastard wannabe" threshold. So it is with great
reluctance that I say that The Dissolving Room is a good album.
Moody and quiet, the acoustic playing -- accented by little bits of strings
and percussion every now and again -- conjures the image of a melancholy
evening on a back porch somewhere. The vocals share some of the angst and
tone of Buckley's (which I like), although the singer occassionaly slips
egregiously out of tune (which I don't like). If you ever find yourself making a
driving-on-a-dark-highway-at-night mix tape, "Ella is the First
Rider", The Dissolving Room's second track, would make an excellent addition. -- az
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Arlo / Up High in the Night / Sub Pop (CD)
Twelve finely honed pop ditties crackle on this gem of a disc. Like so
many other bands, a love of weed brought Arlo together (or so says their
confessional bio). Thank your lucky stars that pot zapped not an iota
of their spark or lust, for these tunes are nothing if not skillfully
arranged and ever so addictive. Each snaps like a theme song from a
delirious TV show sent back to us from the future. Props to producer
Ben Vaugh for helping glue these LA boys together so well. The band
says it takes inspiration from Mr. T's Bowl -- the best, worst and
only punk rock venue/bowling alley this reviewer ever deigned to
visit. Had Arlo been providing the soundtrack for my trip there, who
knows...I may have nailed that perfect 300 after all. -- rg
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Jori Hulkkonen (DJ) / Helsinki Mix Sessions / Turbo(CD)
Turbo Records produces some wonderful stuff; in particular, I love their International Series, which has produced some real winners. However, Helsinki Mix Sessions has been over-finessed, with any colour or variation in tone, tempo or mood completely stripped away to create a single, colourless sequence of tracks. To paraphrase Jessie Stevens in To Catch a Thief, I think it "finnished" him (Jori Hulkkonen). The tracks, which are nearly all instrumental, never really vary. Although the track changes are smooth, part of the reason that they segue so well is that the songs never change. Great for continuity, I guess, but lousy for dancing, and this purports to be club music. If ass-shaking is a measure of success in club/house, consider this the perfect soundtrack for a highly chic, urbane hair salon. Definitely not the place for ass-shaking...at least not if you eschew the weed-whacker look. Two tracks feature notable vocals: "Your Love Won't Let Me Wait" loops one extremely brief, unidentifiable human vocal sound ad nauseum, and "I Know a Place" employs a Stevie Wonder sound-alike who sounds like he has the world's worst wedgie. Helsinki Mix Sessions isn't flat-out bad, but it's bland. That's pretty hard to take in a music form that's supposed to get your heart pounding rather than flat-lining. -- js
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Kipper Tin are good, but not spectacular, with wonderful moments (such as
the Pixies-like opening on "Surprise of the Year") tucked into undistinguished,
unimportant songs. Lead singer Sarah Borges has a
strong voice, and her band members play solidly; all have good looks, and
very nice hair, too. That said, they come off (with two exceptions) like
candy corn to me -- a good November substitute for sugar in your tea when
you don't have the real thing. Their one great song ("Do It With Your Eyes
Closed"), however, is more than good enough to justify giving them a listen
or seeing them live. It is a near-perfect pop song, starting slowly
and quietly, each instrument entering with a bang at just the right moment.
The lyrics, while not much different from the rest on the EP, are sung more
passionately here, with Sarah bringing undeniable power and conviction to
the song's firm, final thought ("I am the girl of your dreams/Not the one
that holds you down"). As for the other winning track, you can't hear the
live "Song in F" without thinking that Borges was weaned on some fun
eighties metal. It made me want to hear the band play Hanoi Rocks' "Dead by
Christmas", and there aren't many girl-led bands that could inspire that wish.
And they're good-looking enough for MTV kids to fall in
love with them, so who knows? Perhaps the future of Kipper Tin is far more full
than this EP suggests. -- td
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Saso / Warmed Up / Melted
Snow (CD)
Saso would seem quite at home amongst the
downtrodden bands of Deep Elm
Records. Their particularly wistful brand of emo-rock is
pleasant enough,
if not entirely ground-breaking, and perhaps less aligned
with punk aesthetics than the
Deep Elm stable. The best song on this four song EP is the
closer, "All My
Life." The penetrating falsetto of the vocals is
particularly effective here, conveying a desperation that I
find fascinating. The sparse yet lyrical
instrumentation also adds much to the song. A gentle piano
melody here and
a lonely violin line there, combined with warm acoustic
guitar and an easy
tempo, make for a peaceful listen. It's not
earth-shattering, but it's also
not bad. If you've got 20 minutes, give these guys a
chance. -- nw
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Calendar Girl / Everyone But You / Intelligent (CD)
Not even the cute, slightly despondent girl on the
cover could save this release. While similarities to Sebadoh
are obvious, everything that
made Sebadoh great was abandoned by Calendar Girl in
the recording process. The album voids itself of any
lo-fi aesthetic, and with it any trace of structural
volatility or lyrical wit. However, it's hard to
whole-heartedly detest this type of music for
too long; it avoids the whiny, emotional breakdowns
favored by the most intolerable records of the emo/pop genre,
maintaining an upbeat mood and pace in the process.
We're left with a consistent but unremarkable pop-punk record. -- jw
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Keoki / Jealousy / Moonshine (CD)
What's the state of the rave nation when Frankie Goes to Hollywood's
16-year-old hit "Relax" inspires a lovingly faithful remake from the
ground breaking, mega-tattoed Superstar DJ Keoki? As much as Keoki and
his associated scene's aesthetic stance urgently wish to bring the
sounds of the future to us lowly mortals, Jealousy can't quite
dispense with the Ghost of Dance Music Past. There's a certain cheese
factor at work here; the vocals
in particular elicit a wave of nostalgia
for the heady days of the 80's. The cheese rarely overwhelms the rest
of the music, though; most of the tracks are happy, for lack of a
better word, in a way that's hard to resist. Keoki's catholic tastes
are apparent in the way he slams together disparate sounds from the
increasingly micro-genred dance world, including the usual suspects of
house, techno, and drum 'n' bass. Funky elastic bass lines, buzzing
synthesizers, layered drum machines, sampled sounds and voices -- Keoki
builds tracks with beginnings, middles, and ends, with as much attention
to ebb and flow as to booming four-on-the-floor beats. At 70 minutes,
it's not surprising that the disc fails to entirely hold the attention
of those not sweating the night away on the dance floor, but the tracks
themselves rarely feel overstuffed, and even the lengthier workouts
leave you nodding along. Just sit back
and "Relax," and let Keoki take you for a ride. -- rt
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dZihan and Kamien / Refreaked / Six
Degrees (CD)
This Vienna-based duo's most recent release, Freaks and
Icons, was heavy on chillout vibe but
light on prime-time dancefloor muscle. This collection of
remixes offers a modest increase in the power
behind the beats, but ultimately does little to alter the
mood of the original material -- in other words, don't
expect breakbeats or Chemical Brothers energy levels.
That's not necessarily a complaint; as 4:00 a.m. body-moving material goes,
Refreaked's light, jazzy grooves and exotic rhythms
are choice cuts. More importantly, the remix process
appears to have eliminated a lot of the wanky new-age
burbling that marred Freaks and Icons, making
Refreaked the rare remix album that actually works a little
better than the original. -- gz
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Inches To Flood / Self-Titled / Self-Released (CD)
Inches To Flood is one of those bands that grows on you the more you listen
to them. The three songs here certainly won't grab
you on the first couple of listens; in fact, you may be so distracted by
some of their negative characteristics that you fail to notice
the self-characterized "orchestral vocals, melodic yet searing guitars and
honest lyrics." The mix here is muddy, and at several points (especially
during "Missing Person") it seems as if the band is making up both the chords and
the lyrics as they go along, creating a bit of a chaotic and jarbled
atmosphere. On "House Upon The Sand" the vocals come together a bit more,
with a Jeff Buckleyesque flavor, but the passion so evident in Buckley's
voice is missing. Pitfalls aside, Inches To Flood provides some
interesting, off-kilter instrumentation and an energy that makes me think
their live show may be something to see. Perhaps with a little more time to
mesh as a band (they've only been around a short while) and some help in
the studio, these boys could blow us all away with a great new sound. -- al
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Knievel / The Name Rings a Bell that Drowns Out Your Voice / Quietly Suburban (CD)
This is the latest
in a long line of fine releases from Australia’s Quietly Suburban
(soon to be the Aussie home of Death Cab For Cutie). On their
debut full-length, this talented three piece crafts a gorgeous record
filled with swirling guitar melodies and an air of moody displeasure.
Lead singer/guitarist/songwriter Wayne Connolly’s vocals are immediately
reminiscent of Michael Stipe, both in their intonation and effortless
swagger. His smooth croon dominates songs like "We Can Identify" and "I
Keep on Waiting", atop which the band shovel layers of tinkling
keyboards, slinky bass and growling guitars. The album’s
finest moment is most certainly the power-fuzz glow of "Chance
Meeting", in which a wall of overdubbed guitars rides a kinetic backbeat to a
buzzing valley, where melody and menace meet in a beautifully unholy
union that even Hum would have been proud of. The Name Rings a Bell
that Drowns Out Your Voice is as lusciously crafted a rock record as you'll hear this year; its sheer beauty suggests that this Knievel
isn’t likely to crash any time soon. -- jj
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The Cautions / Self-Titled / Self-Released (CD)
Elvis Costello is all over this record --in spirit. The band’s name is
supposedly an old-fashioned expression for a wise-ass, and it’s an apt
description. The opening track is a ditty about loving a coffee-shop slave
from afar, complete with "Megan/vegan" rhyme. Clever, but far too ironic
for my tastes. "Groove Baby Groove" is the song that stays with you after
the album’s over, despite the (serious) tactical error of singing the
backing vocals in falsetto rather than getting some chicks in there to do
them. -- az
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If, like me, you've always felt that Dean Wareham's
post-Galaxie 500 material was best enjoyed from your
favorite comfy sofa, your ship has come in. This
fourteen-track live gig, assembled from performances in DC
and New York, should do the trick, allowing you to check out
Wareham's low-impact Lou Reedisms without having to keep
coffee and No-Doz close at hand. It's not that Luna's live
performance is dull, but they never really cut loose and
rock, either; it's a reserved, mid-tempo ride from
start to finish. Wine drinkers' music, you might say --
likeable, pleasant, but lacking in consuming, driving passion. -- gz
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David Fesette / Self-Titled / Self-Released (CD)
This polished three song demo from Jerseyite Fessette showcases his
acoustic guitar slinging and gruff voice. The opening number,
"Misplaced", injects a heavy rock influence, complete with wailing solo,
leaving you guessing as to whether Fessette will drop into a metal-lite
ballad or switch gears into a folky number. "Remember Me" shakes and
shuffles with a more laid-back approach, allowing Fessette to wrap his warmly phrased lyrics around you as he quietly strums his acoustic guitar in the background. While everything is crisp and clean here, it's a little uncertain as to which direction Fessette ultimately wants to take; he doesn't seem to have decided which genre he likes best. -- am
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December's Children / Here, There, and Everywhere / Commerce
(CD)
I am always wary when an album's liner notes say stuff like "Every once
and awhile, pop music turns out something extraordinary." December's
Children do not live up to this high praise, but they don't crash either.
Despite their additional claims that "the music... sounds exactly like
nothing you've ever heard," the music here is very familiar. Every college
town has a band that plays earnest, heartfelt acoustic-rock, and that's
exactly what this trio does. Moments are quite beautiful: "A Boy Named
Ben" sounds like a trippy Stone Roses out-take and "Drifting in Snow" has
the yearning feel of Radiohead's softer interludes. While I could do
without the pretensions, December's Children have the knack for writing
catchy pop songs. With continued growth they might even live up to their
aspirations. -- rd
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An album almost has to be Nice if it was sixteen years in the making (either that or it really sucks because the writer could never get it right and finally gave up). In the case of this album, original bedroom rocker Dereck Higgins really does get it right. Working at home between January 1984 and September 2000, he produced an album that ranges from a jazzy instrumental piece remniscent of Aja-era Steely Dan (but without the vocals) to an ambient track full of blurps and bleeps, to a rich vocal piece ("The Wind from Above") that sounds like late '60s folk-pop radio with the production stripped away. As its wan title implies, understatement seems to be Dereck's chief stylistic goal; playing bass, keyboards, drums, guitar and occasionally singing background vocals, he creates a soundtrack for walking in the rain...or reflecting in one's bedroom. If Nice had been released by a major label, it might seem too bland to justify major label prices. As a self-released work, it's a sweet find to round out the elective portion of your musical curriculum. -- js
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gz - george zahora | nw - noah wane | am - andrew magilow | ib - irving bellemead | jj - jason jackowiak | td - theodore defosse | rd - ron davies
js - jenn sikes | rg - rodney gibbs | rt - ryan tranquilla | al - amy leach | jw - john wolfe | az - alex zorn
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