OUR WEEKLY COLLECTION OF SHORTER REVIEWS | |
Oval-Teen,
Captain Onboard,
Frodus,
The End of Julia,
Z'ev,
David Neil Cline,
Capital City,
Karl Sky,
Death on Wednesday,
Foundation,
Split Lip Rayfield,
Lauan Records Presents: Three Sets Volume 2,
Canvas,
Emperor Penguin,
Chilly Gonzales,
Bigsaver,
Fractional Importance,
Abilene,
Propagandhi,
Bobudgreene,
Kerry Candaele and the Left Helenians,
Rocket Transfer Warehouse,
The Leftovers,
Bob Schneider
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Oval-Teen / A Million Shades of Oval-Teen / MOC (CD)
This three piece band from Yorkville, Illinois, relies on a variety of sounds, including tamborines,
keyboards, distorted guitars, swirling harmonies, hand claps and the occasional bird chirp to create a near perfect indie-pop album a la The Apples in Stereo. Each of the fourteen tracks here
seems to be a celebration of adolecent geek love, complete with hand claps and catchy melodies. Add the recruited horn section on "Lemon Cakes And Chocolate Shakes" and they practically have
their own high school pep-rally in full swing. Brian Wilson would be proud.
"Flying Silver Rocket Ships" and "Oh, Natalie" stand out as perfect
love-sick anthems, full of innocence and teenage hopefulness, while on the
partially country inspired "A Million Shades", when Brad Davis sings
the line "I'm staring at the phone again, trying not to let it get me down",
you can't help but feel like love should just work out for this guy. But
maybe if it did, we wouldn't have these songs full of desperate longing.
I have a feeling that if A Million Shades of Oval-Teen temporarily became stuck in my CD player, I wouldn't mind too much. -- al
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Captain Onboard / S/T / Perishable (CD)
This quartet of long-form tunes represents the solo debut of
Joe Goldring, a guy best known for his behind-the-scenes
work with folk like Swans, Toiling Midgets and Hope
Sandoval. While it ultimately falls into the "instrumental
tunes built from loops and textures" category, Goldring's
work isn't another helping of freeform jazzy noodling. His
soundscapes are less purposeful and more ambient, not to
mention explorative; they're musical sketches in the fullest
sense of the term, with gentle sounds set against bristling
noise and bells layered against strings as an exploration of
sonic relationships. It's what Brokeback might sound like
if Doug McCombs had been deaf for the first twenty years of
his life -- the mannered moods are similar, but there's a
far stronger feeling that you're entering uncharted
territory. Each piece is striking, though the moodily
echoey "Arms", which features additional bass work from Phil
Spirito, is probably the most memorable. Only 500 copies of
Captain Onboard were pressed, but it's worth hunting
for, especially if you have a good stereo. Given the right
sound setup, Goldring's music can become a palpable
experience. -- gz
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Frodus / And We Washed Our Weapons in the Sea / Fueled By Ramen (CD)
The cover art for And We Washed Our Weapons in the Sea (which will certainly
go down as one of the best album titles of the past five years)
depicts three men donning surgical masks, standing stock still amidst
the hustle and bustle of a busy city street. While taken at face
value, the artwork may not seem at all symbolic, but soon after opening the
sonic Pandora’s box that is And We Washed..., it takes on a deeper
meaning. The three men in surgical masks, who are indeed the
members of Frodus, come to embody every single note played on this truly
mesmerizing record. With a musical attack that walks a tightrope
between passages of surgically precise bombast and moments of total
chaos, And We Washed... alternates between fragility and savage barbarism.
Throbbing basslines and weedy guitars tunnel their way
through "6/99" and "The Earth Isn’t Humming", exposing a human heart
beating beneath their cold, calculating, utterly precise façades.
This grafting of genuine emotion onto wires and circuit boards makes And
We Washed Our Weapons in the Sea the perfect music for robots to make
love to...or, more appropriately, music for humans and robots to make love
to. Seems as though we should actually trust those men in white masks
from time to time. -- jj
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The End of Julia / Sunday Driver / My Hero
(CD)
An unfortunate problem for most works of art is that they are neither
created nor consumed in a vacuum. It is the exceptional artist that
transcends his or her influences to create something genuinely new; art
recreates and recombines other pieces of art, and for the most part the
finished product still shows the glued-together edges. Sunday Driver
pulls scraps from a number of different piles (most notably emo, power pop and post-punk)
without ever fully assimilating them into a sound of its own. Parts of
the album were recorded way back in 1999, not long after the
band's first shows, and there's plenty here that recommends future
attention: the quietly martial drum fills on "One Last Sunrise",
intricate song structures that subvert the normal quiet/loud/quiet
dynamic, the subtle but inventive keyboards, the repeating guitar line
that begins "Canvas". The lyrics are sometimes soggy, mostly
impressionistic forays into the familiar territory of longing and
uncertainty ("Dreams are made to be broken", "I guess this is goodbye,
this goodbye is forever"), which flirt with an occasional directness -- "I
think you're too beautiful for your own good." At the moment, The End
of Julia benefits from, but is ultimately constrained by, the last fifteen
or twenty years of earnest indie rock. Given time, this Sunday Driver
may yet make it to the freeway. -- rt
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Z'ev / An Uns Momento / C.I.P. (CD)
Z'ev (né Stefan Weisser) is a drummer, poet, tinkerer and sound sculptor
extraordinaire who has worked with the likes of John Cage, Pere Ubu, Cabaret
Voltaire and Bauhaus, and who has inspired industrial acts like Einsturzende
Neubauten. An Uns Momento collects two of his works from the '80s, "Life Sentense"
and "Save What?" The former is a sort of work of paranoia; Z'ev's
stuttering, schizophrenic text treatments, paired with what amounts to
layers of electronic noise, make for an unsettling yet mesmerizing experience.
This edition of the work is divided into 98 tracks, so that if you run your
CD player in shuffle mode you'll get a different piece every time. "Save
What?" is the last performance of Z'ev's group, uns. It's much like "Life
Sentense", but longer and less insane. It ends in a simulated
breakdown, with Z'ev claiming that they need to shut down all the equipment before it gets broken. He then trails off in mid-speech and the
30 minute work is over. I hadn't heard of Z'ev before, but I'm certainly a
believer after hearing these two pieces. This stuff is just wacky enough to
really work. -- nw
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David Neil Cline / Malefic Influence / Gazochtahagen
(CD)
DNC's second release plays along to the tune of '80s metal, and does a
respectable job standing up to the test of time. With definite nods to Deep
Purple, Iron Maiden and an eensy, teensy bit of Malmsteen, Malefic
Influence is ultimately a well produced, solid-state metal offering. If
you ever had a penchant for metal when you were growing up, Cline's
mellifluous hard rock will rake the coals of your youth once more. Is it muted
riffing that you're on the prowl for? Or perhaps some arpeggio-heavy guitar
solos? Mr. Cline may be the answer to your headbanging fantasies. It takes
guts and determination to stick to a sound that may not be the "cool"
thing, and Cline gets the thumbs up for his performance on this startlingly
good offering. -- am
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Capital City / The Sound b/w National Landmark / Near by
Music (7")
Roots-pop with a new wave edge, Capital City have crafted a
relatively distinctive sound. This is due in no small
part to co-founder Geech, whose vocals sound as if he
learned to sing by listening to Naked Eyes' "Always
Something There To Remind Me" over and over and over.
That's not a bad thing, necessarily. Geech and Miranda
share vocal duties on "The Sound", which features a
signature guitar line faintly reminiscent of Pat Benatar's
"Hit Me With Your Best Shot". It's a catchy track that
could probably benefit from a little more energy and a bit
more oomph behind the guitars. "National Landmark", the
B-side, is a more interesting beast. A slower piece of
lovelorn pop, "National Landmark" could almost be a Low
song; only the backbeat and the refrain's chiming keyboards
really kill the resemblance. However, while Low might be
able to stretch this sucker past the five minute mark,
Capital City should really cut it short. The song, while
likable, would work better if it was about two minutes
shorter. -- gz
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Karl Sky / Guess It's Time... /
KFG (CD)
There's nothing wrong with earnestness. Heck, some of my favorite music
is so earnest it practically holds your hand and looks kindly into your
eyes while you're listening to it. Alas, earnestness alone is usually not
enough to make a great song. Case in point: Karl Sky has a lot
of earnestness, but he doesn't have a lot of great songs. He's clearly a
nice fellow, and his voice is gentle and sincere, but most of his songs
are not so good. His lyrics feature lots of lines like "I was so lost
that I could not be found" and "The sparky fire within my heart, girl,
it never subsides". His music is mellow folk-rock, with occasional nice
harmonies and guitar playing. I'm not sure about this, but I get the
feeling that Sky played most of the instruments on this disc, which is a
laudable accomplishment. However, while I have no doubt that some people will
be very touched by Sky's earnest, pretty music, it's just too
predictable and generic for my taste. -- ib
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Death on Wednesday / Buying the Lie / Side Echo (CD)
A band has to be pretty ballsy to chide rock 'n' roll for selling its soul. Without sufficient chutzpah and credibility, you risk sour grapes at the least, or appearing clueless at the worst. Fugazi, for example, with its ample dose of attitude, pulls it off in spades. Death on Wednesday, on the other hand... well, let's just say Death is no Fugazi. Wearing its heart on its sleeve, the band has grave woes unsurpassed only by a teenager's emotionally crippling battle with acme: "I'm under pressure 'cause your (sic) the love that I don't want to kill. Where are you now when I need you, darling? Where are you now?" When not professing its love, Death on Wednesday takes the record industry to task, accusing it of selling out to MTV and major labels. With by-the-book ditties like these, you'd think Death on Wednesday would be encouraging others to follow their lead and gleefully sell out. It's not that those in glass houses should not throw stones, as much as it is this: those in uninspired bar bands should not refuse to play classic rock covers. How else are you going to fill up that tip jar? -- rg
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Foundation / Self-Titled / Fueled By Ramen (CD)
Foundation are going the route of Uncle Tupelo on
this self-titled debut. Throughout these eleven Southern Rock ballads,
vocalist R. Huddleston attempts a grungy version of Billy Bragg's singing
style. The overall effect, on "Better Days," "Engines of
Alienation" and most of the tracks, is sort of a
Green Day meets The Replacements feel. The songs aren't
necessarily weak, but there aren't a lot of memorable
hooks to latch onto, either. There's also a general impression
that the band isn't 100% geniune in their chosen genre --
they sound a bit young to be attempting this
sort of introspective rock. With better arrangements,
Foundation might someday shine brighter. Perhaps they should
give more attention to each song instead of
releasing fifty minutes of this sort of material, which
has to be amazingly strong to work as a full-length
album. A pleasant debut, but not yet (as Crap-MTV would say)
buzzworthy. -- tnd
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Split Lip Rayfield / Never Make It Home / Bloodshot
(CD)
There ain't few things gooder'n Split Lip Rayfield. Well, there's the time
me an' my pal Franklin stole his uncle's truck. That was nuts. Listenin' to
the Rayfield while we drived down the 220 was pretty good. Them Rayfield
boys is Kansas types, but they sure as tarnation sound like my buddy's
kick-ass barn-burnin' band that plays all them parties. With a gas tank
player 'n' a banjer 'n' a guy hollerin' like he's lost in a field o'
wheat, this here's the ginuwine number. Matter o' fact, them Rayfield boys
whip up a ruckus on "Used to Call Me Baby" that's sadder'n the time my pa
and me had to slaughter my prize pig Elouise for supper. Shucks already. I
tol' you, there ain't much stuff funner'n listenin' to Never Make It
Home, less'n you count sleepin' with my cuzin, but that's like
comparin' boiled peanuts to peaches, and there ain't nothin' around like
that anyhow. Ain't nothin' around like Split Lip Rayfield neither, so do
what I do: get yerself some holy moonshine and smoke some of that field
grass, 'n' hunker up to the radio and let them Kansas types play you some
down home, mean bluegrass, Rayfield-like. -- am
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Various Artists / Lauan Records Presents: Three Sets Volume 2 / Lauan
(CD)
This compilation features live tracks from three bands, all of which present their
own takes on the groove-band theme of hippie-funk improvisation. Larry
weighs in with three tracks that sound a bit closer to the feel-good vibe
of Jimmy Buffet than most. This impression may have a lot to do with the
steel-drum-sounding guitar that comes in at the end of "Seven", but
even after several listens the songs still have a curious Carribean sound.
Ancient Harmony contributes only one song, but since it clocks in at nearly
twenty-six minutes, they definitely get their chance to step up. Although
their offering, "Memory", is book-ended by passages that are a bit too
lackadaisical for me, the middle of the song boasts a highly interesting
round of solos. Rounding out the disc are four tracks by Wise Monkey
Orchestra. Through their use of horns, they set themselves apart and come
much closer to a jazz sound than the other bands. As I've said before, and
will say again, this style of music is most powerful live, so presenting live
recordings rather than studio material is a wise choice. Although the bands here have
distinct and individual sounds, they all fit together, giving the disc the cohesiveness of a solid live bill and making for a satisfying listen. -- rd
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Canvas / Two Types of Tired / Pelican Record Collective
(CD)
Two Types of Tired comes across as more mysterious
than it actually is. The disc came wrapped in a red velvet
bag, and Canvas apparently hasn't seen fit to title their
songs, referring to them simply as "Song 1" through "Song 6"
(with "Song 7" hidden at the end). Once in the CD player,
however, Two Types of Tired reveals itself to be a
more familiar creature -- a highly energized mixture of
archetypal indie rock and punk. The band cites this as a juxtaposition
of Brisbane Pop methodology and non-pop delivery, but I can't vouch for
that; suffice it to say that the songs are pop and the technique is punk.
Combining the poppiest
elements of Dinosaur Jr. and Mudhoney with the catchiest
riffs from Rancid and Green Day, Canvas nonetheless avoids
sounding derivative; you'll be far too busy thinking "Damn,
I like this song!" to dissect the verses and choruses. -- gz
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Emperor Penguin / Damn EP / My Pal God (CD)
With a name like this, you may well assume that Emperor Penguin are a
prog-rock outfit on a par with Dokken or Spock’s Beard. But as the
music of the Damn EP will attest, this notion of proggishness couldn’t
be further from the truth. On this four-song effort, the Chicago
duo of Mel Stanke and Lazlo Minimart concocts a strange brew of
gurgling synths, raucous percussion and gnarly guitars. "Neighborhood
Watch (We Call Police)" shows Emperor Penguin to be the existential link
between the ancient days of the Chicago acid house movement and the
brutish, synthetic world of modern day R&B. Alternately, Damn’s first
two tracks, "Disco Party in the Castle of Love (Tonight)" and "Echoes of
Pumford" feature the Emperor Penguin Live Expedition Squadron
ram-rodding their way through a pair of keyboard soaked, psychedelic
guitar fusillades that would have made The Peanut Butter Conspiracy
proud. Sit back, grab the nearest sheet of microdot and enjoy the
kaleidoscopic musical journey that is Damn. -- jj
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Chilly Gonzales / The Entertainist / Kitty-Yo (CD)
A Canadian Jew with a latin moniker living and rapping in Germany...sound
too bizarre to be true? Well, this record is irrefutable proof of it. Don't
expect any of this ethnic smorgasbord to rub off on the music, though.
Chilly Gonzales takes a minimalist, freestyle-yet-conventional approach to
rapping, and at times he's a dead ringer for Eminem. He's backed up by
Peaches, the dirty-minded rapper/DJ who mixes old-school beats with filthy
single-entendre. The album as a whole is a mixed bag;
"The Name They Gave Me" takes staccato vocals and puts them
over a frenetic bed of chopped up guitar and keyboard samples. It's
standard rap self-aggrandizement and as such it works well. Other tracks
seem to be trying just a bit too hard to be shocking. "Cum on You" sports
the line "I spew white goo from a tube on your boobs." I'm not sure if I
should laugh or cry! -- nw
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Bigsaver / You Are the Landscape / Self-Released /(CD)
Jangle-popsters Bigsaver have a bargain-basement name -- not the sort of handle
that evokes mystery, charm or rock glamour. But as Gass observed, human
misery can't be created or destroyed, just transformed or endured.
You Are the Landscape shows that the band has chosen
transformation. It's only an EP, but the energetic combination of flute,
sax, percussion and guitar mix well, creating songs memorable enough to
make you wish for more. Carolyn Davidson's voice is high and a bit thin, but she
sounds as though she's ripping her vocal cords open with emotion and effort,
which always earns a measure of respect. "Don't Quit the Band" may be somewhat
repetitive, but it showcases Bigsaver's sense of humour and postmodernist sensibility ("Don't quit the band / it's not done yet and the
mission's grand"). Grab the big savings of You Are the Landscape and wait for the deals
to come. -- js
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Fractional Importance/ Sampler / Dyspathy (CD)
If you thought Papa Roach was about as watered
down as hardcore/metal gets, you’ve yet to
experience LA-based band Fractional Importance.
This two-song sampler is a wholly unremarkable
attempt at placing edgier Converge-style rock
under an industry gauze; chugga-chugga guitars sludge
through sing/scream vocals and slick production
resting on sparse melodies too disjointed to form any
allure. Fans of said sound may find some redeeming
substance -- "Dude, can you like feel that cutting-edge
hardcoreness! It hits so hard, bro!" -- but you’d be
better suited buying the back catalogue of Static
X, System of A Down or perhaps just cracking open that new Kevorkian Death Cycle -- it’s, like,
raw, man! -- jw
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Abilene / S/T / Slowdime (CD)
Abilene's faults are hard to ascertain, since their compositions'
single melody, chopped into six barely separate pieces, is undoubtedly
intentional. As a combination of minimalism, mumbling, slow-draw guitar and
distinguished bass (from Craig Ackerman), Abilene's music produces a real but
mostly lethargic emotion that resonates long after the CD is done. I credit Abilene themselves,
rather than the listener, for this effect, but only because they determined the empty spaces in the
grooves, into which the listener disappears with his daydreams. However,
it'll take many future studies with and without this record (and others like
it) to verify the findings. I don't think any indiscriminate chunk of
sound serves as a complete expression of a thought, and I can't help but
wonder if the inspiration behind this minimalist trend in indie rock amounts
to sheer laziness. Judging from the apparent facts -- that Abilene took a
whopping two years to make thse six songs -- my hunches are likely wrong,
but who knows? Music like Abilene's does not provide me with the energy to
say. -- td
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Propagandhi / Today's Empires, Tomorrow's Ashes / Fat Wreck Chords
(CD)
It's a bit unfair comparing Propagandhi's sound to other bands, but with
the distorted mayhem of old Suicidal Tendencies, a bit of Sick of It All's
brutality and the intelligence of political-minded militants TSOL, at
least they're in good company. Still, it's hard to imagine these Canadian politicos
and Me First and the Gimme Gimmes on the same label. Sounding like the black sheep hardcore band
of Fat Wreck, the Prop is hip enough to quote Judas Priest ("With Friends
Like These Who the Fuck Needs Cointelpro"), yet turns right around and
rails off enough radio-unfriendly fucks ("Fuck the Border") to distance
themselves from any pop-punk friendly group. The trio takes a few other
shots at Albright, jails and politicians, guaranteeing that some sort of
thought process will get kicked off in your head. But after a four-year recording
lapse, are Propagandhi still the harbingers of
modern day activism? Perhaps. The more you check out Today's Empires,
Tomorrow's Ashes, the more you hear of the band's clever, biting satire,
keeping the politics in punk and the edginess in a genre that can
sometimes go a bit flaccid. -- am
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Bobudgreene / S/T / Bobudgreene (CD)
This disc comes packaged like a 7", and I'm embarrassed to
admit that I got as far as reaching into the
sleeve to put it on the turntable before I noticed. Naughty
Bobudgreene! Naughty inattentive George!
Once you get past the packaging (which, incidentally, is slowly
transferring its tempera-paint artwork to the inside of the plastic
sleeve) this is your basic lo-fi
indie rock, albeit with little surprises -- horns on the
amusingly-titled "Sea Shells Sanctuary", lawn mower sounds
on "Mowers Ahead", bells and flutes on "Eating Blue Playdoh"
and so forth. The band varies its sound nicely, ranging
from melodic pop to gothy prog to shambling psychedelia in
the course of thirteen minutes. At their best, they're
inventive; at worst, they're a little self-indulgent, and
occasionally lapse into drab passages of echoey, depressing
prog wank. A little tightening up is needed, but not much.
In their current form, Bobudgreene have a great deal to
offer -- particularly to lovers of Elephant 6-style
trippiness who don't mind the rough edges of home recording.
-- gz
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Kerry Candaele and the Left Helenians / Gas Money /
Battle Hymns Music
(CD)
According to his press materials, Kerry Candaele is a husband and father
who gave up his successful career as an historian and author to follow
his passion for creating music. I can dig that, although judging by
Candaele's songs he may have switched careers a bit too late to really
make his mark on the world of rock and roll. This is pleasant, mellow
rock music; Candaele's voice is fine, and the playing is competent if
less than blistering. Some of the lyrics are interesting and pretty, but
in general they're a bit too measured and respectable. There's nothing
remarkable about the fact that a smart, successful middle-aged man can
write a nice verse about his baby's eyes or missing a lover. Now if
Candaele quit his job as a professor to become the next Yoko Ono or
Merzbow, well, that would be interesting. As it is, this is a nice,
but not very exciting disc. -- ib
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Rocket Transfer Warehouse / Arrival /
Anybeat (CD)
Rocket Transfer Warehouse make some great junk cereal recommendations.
They're connoisseurs of Boo-Berry, Cocoa Puffs and similar breakfast treats. Frankly,
I think such tastes can be used as measuring sticks (and I come from a
family well-versed in the sugary-cereal-eaten before-bed tradition): this
is clearly a great bar band. Listen to Arrival whenever you
sit around drinking Natty Boh at home. Poppy, cheerful, post-punk traditional guitar
stylings are RTW's general mode; they're a bit more raucous than
Squeeze, XTC and Tommy Keene, to whom they definitely pay homage, but
their lyrics are neither as funny nor as quirky. The singers are fairly good for
independent musicians -- their voices are less nasal, and come from the chest
more than the average indie Joe's voice. They're at their best on "Cathy Wants Out", a peppy,
keyboard-accented song that's the most charming and Squeeze-ish of the lot. If they keep making music like this, it's likely that Rocket Transfer
Warehouse will become a
Baltimore sensation. -- js
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The Leftovers / 667: Neighbor of the Beast / Necropolis
(CD)
Their name aptly sums up this Swedish punk band. Their sound is a direct
throwback to bands like TSOL, who first walked the thin line between
hardcore, punk and metal. Even the title of their album is a pun that has
been floating around for years. While the execution of the songs is
reasonable, the monotonous machine-gun rhythms and barking vocals do little
to set the Leftovers apart. This situation is not helped by cliched,
bird-flying cover art or song titles like "Live to Sin". Thus, despite their
aspirations to be "Furious punk/rock blasters of the nastiest order", the
music here is no improvement over fresher fare offered by other bands. -- rd
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Bob Schneider / Lonelyland / Universal
(CD)
Lonelyland opens with a mellow, almost James Taylor-ish feel
on "Metal and Steel". Any alarm bells this may set off for
listeners expecting something more from this veteran Austin-based band
leader and solo artist are quickly squelched, as the album adds some
interesting bumps to the singer/songwriter road. Schneider is one of the
most popular artists in the filled-to-the-brim Austin music scene (he
recently aced the 2000 Austin Music Awards, winning Musician of the Year,
Best Male Vocalist, Best Song Writer, and Band of the Year awards), and this
major label bow offers substantial proof of his artistry. Instantly catchy
choruses and brilliant hooks fill songs that could easily find a home on
adult alternative stations. But Schneider isn't following radio-ready
formulas; "Round and Round" contains both an operatic female vocal and the
kind of African chants usually found on a Paul Simon album, while "Tokyo"
melds an irresistible, sing-along chorus with a bitter lyrical undercurrent ("Motherfucker" isn't a word often heard on AAA radio-friendly tracks, for
instance.). "Madeline" is the album's centerpiece, a lengthy but quiet walk
down a rain-soaked night street, which manages to avoid cliche through an
impassioned vocal ("Madeline, save me from myself") and expert
accompaniment. The playing throughout the album is first rate; Schneider's
band, like Bob Dylan's current touring ensemble, employs pop, alt-country,
and rock arrangements to varied and precise effect. Smart songwriting,
expert playing, and crisp production add up to a highly recommended trip. -- rt
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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
tnd - tim digravina | rt - ryan tranquilla | al - amy leach | jw - john wolfe
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