Music Reviews Archive

A Frames (SS / Dragnet)

Pleasant surprises abound from A Frames, although they mostly remind me of other bands I miss. This CD is a deadpan collision of chunky soup-fork guitars (a la Lake of Dracula, Monitor Batts) snotty/bored vocals (This Robot Kills, Chris Thompson) and the occasional splatter freak out. It's getting to the point that singing simplistic, silly Kraftwerk monotone poems about being a "Nobot" or having a doo-wop ballad, acoustic guitar and all, about a surveillance camera ("Surveillance") has been done - it's just happens to work for them 75% of the time. The band also reminds me of the late great Sacto-unit Karate Party with some chill-pills and girl vocals. More songs about plastic surgery and brains in freezers make me think of the Cramps gone all Skin Graft-y. Despite all the name drops and droops, A Frames get me good and stoked over the state of post-whatever-you-want-to-call-it stuff - when the masks are torn off and songs, rudimentary as they are, replace the spazz-out rite. (gc)

Abilene - S/T (Slowdime)

The first thing you notice when listening to Abilene's debut album is Alex Dunham's vocals and the band's overall Hoover-like sound. Regulator Watts (Alex's previous post-Hoover band) was the same way, even lifting their name from a Hoover song. But where Regulator Watts focused on the intensity of Hoover, Abilene sticks with the sparse instrumentation, stretching it out over the length of the entire album. The inherent problem with this is that with two eight-minute tracks and basically the same sound on each song, the album can get a little boring. When listening to Abilene, the music itself is appealing in its familiarity, but the sense that the band is doing little more than stripping down Regulator Watts/Hoover songs makes it less than essential listening. (jc)

Aden - Hey 19 (TeenBeat)

With Hey 19, Aden return with their third album of glib indie pop. At first I wasn't sure what to think of this new album (their second for Teenbeat). After two albums that, while quite enjoyable, were nevertheless very similar, I guess I was caught by surprise by the new Aden. While not drastically different, this album offers a somewhat different sound, although I would be hard-pressed to illuminate the differences. Perhaps "more mature" is a good description. Still present are the gliding melodies that, along with the soft voice of Jeff Gramm, so effortlessly float along without sounding overly polished or slick. But there are also a few breaks with convention, such as the angular rhythms of "Matinee Idol," the head-bobbing playfulness of "(Rock me now) Rockulator," or the fuzzed-out guitar of "Dear John" (a cover of the song by Nice). I didn't find this album as immediately enjoyable as the first two, but that was probably due to the fact that I wasn't expecting anything different. I am, however, pleasantly surprised. (jh)

Agoraphobic Nosebleed - PCP Torpedo/ANBRX (Hydrahead)

There is a comedic element that I find in forms of fast violent music, the sheer ridiculousness of the speed and nerdiness of its precision. I knew that Agoraphobic Nosebleed has been around over a decade, but I never realized that they were members of Pig Destroyer and ISIS, and that their insane blastbeats were machine made. The mecha-abuse that emerges is jarring, but no more so than Jay Randall’s torso-imploding vocal exorcisms. This double disc reissue of a 1999 release includes a series of remixes as the second disc, that’s where the value addition lies. The longest track of the original record is only 1 minute 20 seconds. The remixes expand and amplify specific sounds into extended meditations, like Vinda Obmana’s “Three Ring Inferno Mix.” Others scramble drill and bass textures out of the source material, as on Dev Null & Xanopticon’s “Agoranopticon Xanobleed mix”. That comedy element that’s present in both grind and gabber is all over DJ Speedranch’s remix as well as Auek’s, and the Merzbow mix is a wedding of two parallel streams of brutality into a hiss-filtered hurricane. Justin Broadrick’s mix slows it all down to his level of sludge gloom, that is to say significantly lowered BPM and the vocals all drenched in delay, the most song-like of the batch. (gc)

The Aluminum Group - Pelo (Hefty)

I never thought I'd be using the words "really like" and "Aluminum Group" in the same sentence, but I'll be damned, here I go: I really like the new Aluminum Group album. Bet you didn't see that coming. As with their last album, the musicianship is top-notch and name-droppy and the gay brothers are still cheesy as ever, but they've added a helpful serving of groovy beats and blips and approaches, presenting low-key numbers with style you just can't refuse. The first track is my hands-down favorite, sounding like Stereolab meets Le Mans on the outside balcony of a swanky party on a sultry summer night. With its tropicalia influence, very spare and non-word-based vocals (i.e., no bad lyrical content), lovely embellishments, and kicky beats mixing it up with sparsely strummed guitar, this is an excellent opening track to get a listener's attention. After that, things fall back into the Aluminum Group I'm more familiar with, which I wasn't totally keen on, but something about the beats keeps things from getting bogged down in their dramatics and keep you from losing interest. "Tom of Finland" reminds me of a lighter Long Fin Killie song with that talky song and minor key feel. "Worrying Kind" keeps sticking in my head with its Spandau Ballet-like vocals (yes, another brother band) and smarmy disco beats. "What do I do with this bag of bones / Rattle it now until kingdom comes / Will I ever find someone new when there's nothing much new under the sun." Well, I'll second that jaded attitude, but admit there are still pleasant surprises to be had. (yc)

Amps For Christ - The People at Large (5RC)

Henry Barnes has been performing as Amps For Christ since leaving Man Is the Bastard and working as a luthier in Claremont, CA back in the mid-‘90s. Keeping elements of the apocalyptic imagery of MITB, AFC has been an ongoing experiment in acoustic instrumentation and homemade electronics in the spirit of Barnes’ vision of “non-judgmental” Christianity. He’s a cross between a street preacher and Gandalf the Gray in person, but accompanied by Tara Tavi on vocals, AFC bounces between acoustic folk ballads and spoken word denunciations of the Bush Empire set to shards of feedback. The sitar and homemade stringed instruments are sometimes paired with twittering feedback resembling birdcalls, as on “Freddie the Mockingbird.” It’s more of a melodic, hopeful direction the group has taken since more electronics heavy records like Thorny Path, although noise impresario John Wiese plays on this record. “AFC Tower Song”’s lyrics take on American consumerism and environmental destruction while referencing 9/11, sounding more like a ‘60s protest song than one for the ‘00s. In the weird new folk hierarchy, there should be space for Barnes, who is closer to ‘60s icons like Pearls Before Swine and the legacy of ESP Disc than many newcomers can claim. (gc - note: this review appeared in a poorly edited version in the print magazine LIP)

Arab Strap - Mad for Sadness (Jetset)

I always find "live" albums problematic. Really good live bands seldom sound as good on a studio album, and even well-made recordings of a live performance rarely capture the live experience. Arab Strap, however, seems to be a band that demands to be experienced live: best seen in a smoky pub, pint in hand, while musing over the bar room confessionals of singer Aidan Moffat. This album does a good job of capturing what I imagine to be the live brilliance of Arab Strap. The intimate nature of every song somehow lends itself to being there in person, feeling as it does like reading someone's journal or overhearing someone's confession of infidelity at the table next to yours. The themes are as simple as they are familiar: confessions of sexual temptation and infidelity, tales of drunken jealousy, unfulfilled desire, and failed sexual encounters. In fact, it hardly sounds like a live album at all, except for the quiet applause at the end of each track. This album was recorded in London in 1998, so the songs are predominately off of their first two albums and early singles. (jh)

MC Paul Barman - It's Very Stimulating (WordSound Recordings)

Sight unseen, the nebbish-y nasal inflections of Paul Barman remind one of none other than Eminem. It's an unfortunate reminder of injustice in popular consensus--in my alternate universe, it's Dre's pup who gets compared to superstar Barman. His inverted brags cross bad taste with a juvenile joy that appeals to your inner lowbrow, at least on this record. "I'm hung like a birthmark... If you want sex with me, be prepared for bad sex" starts off his theme song "Joy of Your World." In the tradition of universalizing Jewish humor, it ends with our protagonist reaching for a gold coin condom only to find "It was chocolate Chanukah gelt." What you get aside from left-field rhymes and crass libidinal commentary is an admission early on that 4/5th of his songs are fantasy, so even his mock playerhood amounts to failed bragging. Barman's embrace of failure affirms his place in the Smart-ass Pantheon, where even a fellow meta-referentialist like Dennis Miller gets the boot for believing his own bullshit. Guests include a raunchy turn by Princess Superstar and Mr. Len, while Prince Paul handles the beats. (gc)

Belle and Sebastian - Sing...Jonathan David CD EP (Matador/Jeepster)

Over the last few albums, Belle and Sebastian have developed more of a sense of collaboration instead of a band with a leader (the unmistakable Stuart Murdock). Isobel Campbell has been featured more as a lead singer (as in her band The Gentle Waves) and so has Stevie Jackson. It seems to work on the LPs by creating a stronger commixtion of sounds and benevolence. But B&S's new EP starts with its strongest song musically and botches it by not letting the signature Murdoch take the helm. Rather than creating diversity within the three songs, "Jonathan David" makes the EP feel weak at its beginnings.
B&S EPs have a reputation of being great stand-alones, creating fan favorites like "Lazy Line Painter Jane" and "I know where the summer goes." Unlike the normal EPs they release, these songs sound like what would normally be filler material on a B&S full-length. There are no standout songs that make you listen over and over again, bobbing your head along to the Scottish pop sensations. It has the feeling of the middle of an album, and something that will never quite be a "must have." (jc)

Björk - Selmasongs (Elektra)

It's hard to imagine how Lars Von Trier would have made Dancer in the Dark had Björk not agreed to star in it. It's not just her touching portrayal of a well-meaning, desperate mother, but her musical numbers that take the movie over the top. Wonderful songs that arise out of the click and clatter of background noise. If you haven't seen the movie, you should, but you can appreciate this CD all the same. The lyrics may not have as much impact out of context, but the music is amazing with its pretty orchestration, ominously infectious beats, and of course, Björk 's soaring, childlike voice. If you need extra incentive, Thom Yorke of Radiohead makes a guest appearance on "I've Seen It All," replacing the flat voice of Peter Stormare. Also notably absent in the re-worked version of "Scatterheart" is David Morse's stilted vocals, which works better for presenting this number as a real, listenable song. This track is probably the most hauntingly presented track on Selmasongs. "Cvalda," the Stomp-like factory number is my favorite upbeat number because it was such a magical scene in the movie, but "In the Musicals" is a very close second, with its hope-filled chorus of "There's always someone to catch me." If there is a problem with this CD, it is that it's too short. (yc)

Bottleskup Flenkenkenmike - Looks Like Velvet, Smells Like Pee (Broklyn Beats)

This is a project that lets you know it's a goof - there's the album art itself, drenched in pop cult irony (a splayed Darth Vader, commands to defeat your inner Robocop) and song titles like "canada post-rock machine gullible sucker," a Godspeed You Black Emperor! remix perpetrated by GYBE's drummer. How played-out is the caricature of trenchcoat mafia anti-authority punker-than-thou beat dispenser? Is the only antidote to pretension making pee pee jokes? Or do the two go hand in hand? The anarcho-conspiracy aesthetics of GYBE and 1-speed bike come together with Aidan Girt's snotty experiment as Bottleskup Flenkenkenmike. Fans of 1-Speed Bike will be pleased with this take on dancefloor beats and sampled non sequiturs. "Bronze Medal for Fence Hopping at the Punk Olympics" is the abstract closer; drums gallop and grinding tape organs spill out calliope gut spools, then an Entertainment Tonight riff plays as an anti-consumerist, take-it-to-the-streets rant is delivered through headphones. It's confused, paranoid, and messy, but so are we. Girt's liner note scrawls offer better advice than I can - "Let's leave cynicism in the last century. Stop buying records and start buying land." (gc)

Bright Eyes - Fevers and Mirrors (Saddle Creek)

Conor Oberst, the core of Bright Eyes, is an emotional guy, writing what seems to be deeply personal lyrics and playing amazing live shows with each song sounding as if he's playing it for the first time. The lyrics almost seem to come to him as he sings them, connecting the audience to his music in a rare fashion. But the emotion that comes through at his live shows is lost on the new album. Despite a few excellent songs, Fevers and Mirrors sounds more forced than real, like a person playing the part of a 20-year old emo kid. While the last release, Every Day and Every Night, flowed from song to song with unstoppable catches, this album forces me to pick up the needle and skip songs that seem like obvious filler. Hope lingers on in the end though. The last track, "A Song to Pass the Time," is a simple early Dylan-esque song that I can't stop singing in my head, keeping my fingers crossed that on the next album Conor picks up where he left off. (jc)

California Oranges - S/T (Darla)

Just looking at the Mark Robinson designed yummy art makes you want to find pleasures inside. While the music didn't deliver a full mind-blast the first few listens, I soon enough found myself singing parts of the songs while in the shower or cooking dinner or driving to work, i.e. all the time. John and Verna of Holiday Flyer present an upbeat power pop dish, leaving the melancholy songs of their other band behind. That's not to say this album is all sunshine and roses; it's just that the heartbreak and rejection are tinged with hope, or at least a catchy tune. My standout favorite, "The Weather," is about a doom-filled moment, but you're left with the feeling that the protagonist will succeed in convincing her lover that they can work it out. This is not groundbreaking stuff--it's comfortable and familiar straightforward boy-girl pop, at times reminding me of Go Sailor. Some of the lyrics are a little cheesy with odes to John Hughes and Olivia Newton-John, hidden superhero lifestyles and rollerskating, but gosh darn it, this is a good listen from a heartfelt group of performers who excel at their craft. (yc)

Cerberus Shoal - Homb (Temporary Residence)

This is a very pleasurable album. I've heard bands attempt to incorporate Eastern influence (Macha for example) to different degrees of effectiveness, but this one takes the cake. It begins with an organic drone and earthy beat, and takes off from there into mind manifesting territory. If you want a comparison, the closest I can conjure at hand might be Mirza crossed with Ghosts of the Canal. It's meditative and downright trippy prog-rock, sprinkled liberally with polyrhythms, jazz, drones, horns, flutes, and very diverse instrumentation. The singing and chanting on a couple tracks might throw you off at first listen, but they grew on me; the rest is instrumental. Grab the hookah, and listen to this band from Maine jam. This is expansive and worldly music for the open-minded, and pretty to the ears. (sb)

Etienne Charry - 36 Erreurs (Kindercore)

When I was in France three years ago I heard lots of pop songs in restaurants, played at a loud, almost unnerving volume. Mostly they played Alanis Morrissette (which was the fashion of the time) and lots of French rap, which has to this day, remained a mystery to me. I just don't see Jean-Luc Godard saying "word to your mother," but I guess, why would he? If they were playing the awesome dance pop songs of Etienne Charry instead of Alanis, I would have gotten out of my chair and started dancing like the American idiot I am (or the one I act like). You see, Etienne Charry makes you wanna dance, I don't care who you are. I have no clue what he is saying, as I don't speak a word of French, but it doesn't matter, I'm too busy shakin' my booty (go white boy). I mean seriously, what is this guy saying?? I need to take a French class. (jc)

Rhys Chatham - A Rhys Chatham Compendium (Table of the Elements)

It is a generally accepted fact that as each avant garde replaces the last, there is a moment where the new pays a vague tribute to the old before cataloguing its failures and dismissing it entirely. Those who can step outside these successive coups are rare, more so are those who outlast them. Rhys Chatham collaborated with many different performers and artists during his career. Still, the turn from an avant-classical student under the tutelage of LaMonte Young and Tony Conrad to a bandleader of guitar ensembles consisting of Nina Canal, Glenn Branca and Wharton Tiers is difficult to fathom.
Chatham himself fixes the moment at a Ramones gig at CBGB?s, which clarified the future of his musical innovation in the hands of rock instrumentation. Still, he didn?t merely bend his will towards this new future, his work remained remarkably academic in this new configuration. Although closely aligned with the most difficult and threatening music of the time (no wave), Chatham stays away from the most accessible qualities of DNA or Teenage Jesus and the Jerks--frustration and anger. In doing so, he closed the last door that might?ve connected him with his rock inspirations and their listeners.
With the unfortunate design of his 80?s retrospective LP?s, Chatham continued to stay on the outside of histories he directly participated in. The forthcoming 3 CD boxed set ought to be a remarkable re-integration into this history.
The ?Compendium? which precedes this release contains edited selections from the CDs, a decision which may seem perplexing or even inappropriate; but these edits, generally a third the length of the original, have lent me a surprising new understanding of his work. Chatham is sometimes described as a ?minimalist?, and I guess I don?t understand what that means as his pieces seem to me overpowering, inescapable, loud and oppressive. By the 14th minute of Die Donnergötter (incidentally the only piece presented in its entirety on the ?Compendium?) it seems like everything in the room has fallen into step with the rhythm of the players, breathing and moving as one. Afterward, the emptiness that followed the last tone felt like emerging from under water -- breathing regularly, colors brightening back to normal, and yet somehow I?m heavier and clumsier. I used to approach all of his work in the same way, even if it wasn?t the roaring multiple guitar workouts. ?Waterloo No. 2? for example, for three trumpets, two trombones, keyboard and snare presents the same flattened theme for eight minutes, like an unapologetic organ grinder outside your window. In it?s present two and a half minute form, however, the piece delights in a kind of Y Pants or Bruce Haack kind of way--charming, but not as innocent as they?d like you to believe. Likewise, out of ?Guitar Trio?, emerges these bright, almost playful moments of respite that always passed me by on the original, probably because my ears were ringing.
The edit is a tricky thing, and as successful as these are, I wouldn?t give up the unabridged versions. That being said, the ?Compendium? is more than a ?beginner?s? or ?dummy?s guide? to Chatham, it?s an opportunity to re-evaluate and digest the work of an intelligent and unique composer, who somehow lives between highbrow avant garde composition and the brutal energy of punk. (es)

Cheval de Frise - Fresques sur les parois secretes du crane (Frenetic)

This duo from Bordeaux, France combines acoustic guitar and drums in a spirited prog fairyland battle. They sound much like a gentler version of Frenetic label mates Hella, drums swatted softly with brushes instead of Zach Hill’s constant beat barrage. Instrumental bands of this ilk are a hard proposition, usually veering too much into wank territory. Having seen these guys live, it’s easier to wrap one’s head around the teetering time changes and emo dramastics. It’s pretty nerdy music, rewarding listeners who always wanted Don Caballero to jam with Derek Bailey, but it’s also riddled with accessible melodies. Cheval de Frise might be what we used to call “post-rock,” a micro-genre anachronism that has drifted away from use. There’s more to the group, as evidenced by the abrupt spazz out in “Deux Nappes Ductiles” or the bowed drone on quasi-dance track “Phosphorescence de L’arbre Mort.” (gc)

Comets on Fire - Avatar (Sub Pop)

I remember seeing the Tight Bros From Way Back When playing their first show outside of Olympia, I was maybe nineteen at the time and I was ecstatic. They were awesome, and for the next six months I saw them probably 20 times. I began to be very bored with it. Then, out of nowhere, there was this huge insurgence of bands doing the exact same thing, punks playing southern rock and roll. I thought to myself, this is a fad; there is no way this can continue. I was wrong; there were more and more and even more bands giving up anything interesting to resurrect a dead horse that had been beaten to death 15 years ago. Then somewhere in all of this, someone decided to throw psychedelic back into the mix, I completely missed this happening. I am 29 now and I had stopped trying to understand the rebirth of rock and roll in the underground a good seven years ago, so I am probably the worst person in the world to be reviewing this album. I am going to try and leave all biases aside and give this as fair look as possible from an outsider’s point of view. Lester Bangs, god rest his soul, would be proud. Have you ever heard Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, and Jimmy Hendrix? If you took those bands’ straight rock stuff and threw it into a blender and gave it a slightly more modern feel, you would have this CD. I have never listened to any of their albums, but apparently this is their fourth, I have seen them a couple of times and was entertained. This one is recorded by the infamous Tim Green (Nation of Ulysses, Fucking Champs, producer extraordinaire) so the production is well done. The songs are an average of seven minutes. I managed to get through it a total of three times without having an urge to turn it off, so that has to be saying something. It has everything in the rock and roll vein you might want, lots of guitar riffs, funky blues bass, constant twang vocals singing about who knows what, and some piano. This is more interested than most I have heard (in this genre) and I honestly think it is a decent record. If this is your genre of music this is definitely an album you would like. I honestly just don’t get it. There has to be a reason so many people love this stuff or else all these bands wouldn’t exist, these albums wouldn’t get put out, and no one would attend the shows. There really has to be something real and solid about it, some sort of soul and heart involved, I just don’t see or feel it. (af)

Crime In Choir The Hoop (Frenetic)

When I first heard this band prior to any of their music being released it struck me as a proggier version of something like Stereolab, with drum maniac Zach Hill of Hella manning the beat end. Since Hill?s departure, the band has gone through several line ups, reworked its sound slightly, and spent a good chunk of time crafting its second album, Hoop. Crime in Choir adds some unexpected layers of horns and an earthier keyboard sound. Those familiar with its previous incarnation would recognize the overt melodies emanating from these boys, but they seem to have gone deep into their Krautrock databanks, conjuring bearded men in '70s commune garb standing in fields. Guitars barely poke out of the mix, though Jarret Wrenn is creditied with baritone. This is a surprise coming from the production farm of Tim Green, although George Patterson shares some production credit on the cut and sample tracks like "Magnetotail". It's overloaded with sincere riffage and snappy pop sheen, a bit of a departure from the Bay Area m.o. and comparatively slick sounding like a well-executed car commercial. If the idea of mashing Vangelis, Goblin, and Trans Am together sounds like your idea of a party, try this on for size. As with many bands referencing the same sources, these are young urban educated dudes and not European woodland freaks, so that extraneous vibe that seeps into the music is lost and I wish they went all out for jam band magnificence. (gc)

Des Ark - Loose Lips Sink Ships (Bifocal Media)

Not much hype has passed the hallowed halls of this land of late, from the once fertile North Carolinian soil to our Cali ears. Well, it’s a cold spell that’s snapped with the debut of Des Ark. Precision and prettiness and a wallop of rock sound blocks arrive to squelch doubters and naysayers. Yes, it’s a girl singing and a dude drumming and yes, it does feel an awful lot like 1997 in here again. But there’s a reason why that sound was good in its day, the lurching beats and awkward melodies melding with crunchy guitars, it’s the audio equivalent of comfort food. Des Ark’s math rock with a twang of garage punk is elevated by vocalist Aimee Argote, who can break down into more chilling material and throws piano and folk instrumentation as backdrops for her pure and powerful tones. Tim Herzog from Milemarker does the traps a doozy, letting forth wallop when needed, but you walk away knowing this is Argote’s show.

”No More Fighting Cats, OK?” stands out for its juxtaposition of rocking force and semi-lecturing critique of women enabling men as users, specifically in the line “get that shit out of your arms and you get well right now/you scrub that smell out of your body, have dinner with the family.” It’s a comment on a general relationship dynamic (“every excuse that we make for men makes it that much harder to take pride in them”) that switches gears into a specific imperative second-person voice for that single phrase. Is this the tough love that the artist/junkie that ruled the ‘90s never got? It's possible to view the whole project as a dialogue with that decade's ghosts, but it would be just as oppressive as lumping Argote in with the stereotypically suffering aggro alt-songstress. The contrast between Argote the bad ass and the quasi-folkie of “Some Are Love”, or the pop vocalist of “For Bob Riecke”, makes the short album feel like a survey of possibilities, and they are sky high. (gc)

DMS - S/T CD EP (Arbor Vitae)

Please don't confuse criticism of this effort as an attack on Steve Lamos' authenticity or intentions in trying to merge jazz drumming and horns with electronic music. I am all for the attempt to merge things, and can't hold any sort of stringent requirement standard over genre-crossing dilettantism--please, miscegenate your white boy indie rock, quick as you like. Appropriation is a secondary sin to inducing boredom. It just happens that the way Lamos goes about that mixture ("You got your jazz in my techno!") on his DMS debut feels awfully dry and more of a superimposition than a merger. You end up with the least interesting parts of each genre--dance music deprived of hip hop, machine beats with organic jazz skin for texture, the Donna Harraway dumbing down of cyborg potential.
DMS works at its best with the playfulness of tracks like "Pitfall Harry Meets His Match," off-kilter rhythmic snare rolls that counter clean keyboard lines before delving into live techno beats. Whereas names like Squarepusher, Stereolab, and Gastr del Sol get invoked, DMS merely shares the hard-drive hum minus the compositional inventiveness of those groups. It is all too flashy considering the bass lines and melodies are mere window dressing for showboating drums. Like I said before, it's not that the effort of mixing is wrong in and of itself, but what makes DMS merely an experiment is its emphasis on form, its intense self-awareness as an experiment. As far as horn and electronic experiments go, check out Rhys Chatham's Septile or any Spaceheads' record. (gc)

Dilute - The Gypsy Valentine Curve (It's Like False Advertising)

Opening with the lulling country-tinged "Bea," Dilute add intermittent bursts of guitar spazz clamor to their game. It's hard to figure just what their game is on this debut CD. Ironic attempt to mix country with math rock? Or is it just San Francisco humor-music, the kind of leg-pulling that bred Amarillo Records and Thinking Fellers? Labeling their method matters less than submitting yourself to the band's whimsy. Dilute's twang-core sounds like Modest Mouse crossing beams with Violent Femmes, the Meat Puppets officiating somewhere in the background. The whine of the nasal vocals and the drunken gallop of the songs offer awkward charms while the compositions throw some suckerpunches. Instead of engaging in quiet/loud, tension/explosion dynamics of its contemporaries, Dilute draw you out for stamina and melodic payoffs tucked around corners. This could be either infuriating in a live setting or totally captivating. All in all, a sturdy debut for a band following its own baffling logic. (gc)

Drums and Tuba - Box Fetish; The Flying Ballerina (My Pal God)

Box Fetish and The Flying Ballerina constitute the first and second volumes of Drums and Tuba's "Water Damage Re-Issue Series." The original releases date from '97 and '98 respectively. Much has been said about the "unique" instrumentation of this trio (guitar, tuba, and drum set), and how the band sounds like no other. I don't understand this view. They sound like many others - replace the tuba with electric bass and Drums and Tuba could almost be The Police sans vocals, the Minutemen, or any "power trio." These two discs are indeed fun, but leave me unsatisfied. At close to an hour each, I find it difficult to listen to either disc in its entirety in one sitting. It seems that after three or four tracks, I've heard enough for the time being. Oh, I'd certainly let either disc play in shuffle mode in the background at a party or contribute tracks to a mix tape for the car, but neither represents a well-executed album.
The problem is, Drums and Tuba have allowed their instrumentation to box them into a corner. While the formula may change slightly track to track, it largely consists of the tuba and drums providing a somewhat enticing groove for the guitar to buzz, sing, crunch, etc., over. With such spare instrumentation, a band needs to think more about the structural, timbral, and textural functions of each instrument, as well as the sonic identity of the band as a whole. Bits of The Flying Ballerina hint at the band's ability and, possibly, inclination to move in this direction, but nowhere do they quite succeed. I'll admit to not having heard any recent Drums and Tuba, but hope with confidence that they've broken away from their "we've-got-tuba-instead-of-electric-bass-so-anything-we-do-will-be-interesting" approach and set their sights on creating the truly interesting music they certainly seem capable of. (wr)

Duster - Contemporary Movement (Up)

If I were chosen to be in a space experiment of some kind where a team of astronauts and I were launched into space for a two-year mission and then somewhere along the way a lethal virus escaped, infecting and killing all the technical personnel except for me, because I, for some reason, have immunity (maybe I won an island challenge or something), leaving just me to float in space, staring out a small portal window into outer space for the rest of my natural life, I hope at that time, in my moments of isolation and insanity, that I remembered to bring my Duster CDs. I think that Duster would be the perfect soundtrack for such a scenario.
With the vocals raised in the mix, Duster is back with their beautifully bleak album Contemporary Movement. Twelve songs to lull you into a warm half-dream, half-awake blissfulness. I know it may sound a little melodramatic but it's not. Created in earnest, Duster songs come off with a particular lo-fidelity fluidity merged with profound starkness. It makes me look at my computer screen as I write and not only think about the aforementioned spacecraft but how much of my life I am wasting writing this review. I love it. (jw)

Echo Is Your Love - Paper Cut Eye (If Society)

I have seen this band 315 times, they always had a different name, they may have even been different members in the band but every show I went to from ‘95 to ‘98 this band played at least once, sometimes they even played three times. They switched the vocalist from time to time but it was definitely this band. This is a Post hardcore/noise rock, pop with female vocals. Mathy, tight, it sounds like everything I have ever heard in this genre of rock, all the players are proficient at their instruments and seems cliché at first but the farther it goes the more it grows on me. The songs have enough diversity to keep you interested but at the same time not all-over-the-map to lose you completely. They are from Finland and most of the time you can tell, especially when the vocals are in English. Any fans of ‘98 post-hardcore would really like this. The lyrics are introspective, poetic and slightly political. I think you would need a few listens to get a real good feel for what is going on. Some of the songs are over seven minutes, which is way too long in my opinion, especially since they are placed at the end of the album. Took me right out of it. (af)

Emergency - The Less I Know LP (Archigramophone)

Emergency?s gone through three years of basement incubation since the release of a split 7? with Ann Arbors Lovesick (Archigramophone/WestsideAudioLaboratories). It?s obvious they?ve covered a lot of ground since then. The Less I Know is nine songs of reclusive inharmonious dance-noise-stuttering that gives me a good feeling about the future of Portland?s often ignored and splintered music community. A cranking, gear-like single-note guitar line churns and sputters like a syncopated and noisy experimental machine. At the same time, urgent and expressionless drums and percussive dissonant bass lay the groundwork for engaging textures under flat monotone rambling and shouting (both male and female). ?It?s not impolite to spit with poison in your mouth? exposes their early D.C. influence, calling to mind dead-pan noise pioneers The Metamatics and leaving you annoyed that the melody-less vocal line is somehow seared into your memory. Recorded at Jackpot! And Insta-Frame Studios in Portland, the LP comes in a really nice hand-screened cover and includes a great lyric book to boot (something I love to see). Emergency isn?t for everyone, but they don?t seem to care. (tl)

Engine Down - To Bury Within the Sound (Lovitt)

For a couple of days I have been mulling over how to tell you how wonderful To Bury Within The Sound is. I thought their first LP on Lovitt was pretty average emo-core fare, and not worth much more. In fact, I'm trying to remember how I even stuck around long enough to see them play at their show in SF last month. I was feeling horrible, the girl I was with wanted to leave, and the band I came to see didn't even bother showing up. Pretty amusing, looking back on it. But after their first song ("Retread"), I stood anxiously anticipating each new song--it was that exciting. Engine Down have perfected some weird hybrid of Radiohead and their punk rock pedigree (i.e., Sleepytime Trio). Somewhere between the first LP and the new one, they came into their own, creating a soundscape of clean guitars, hardcore dynamics and timeless words ("How can you honestly say that you're content with me?). The obvious comparison to Sunny Day Real Estate and Radiohead will no doubt wear on them, but at least this time they have a record to be proud of. To Escape From Within the Sound is a more appropriate title if you ask me. (cp)

Evergreen - (Temporary Residence Limited)

This is a reissue of an album that came out in 1994, with two unreleased tracks. At first I thought might have been the other band Evergreen, the emo one, from the mid-90’s but nope, there were two apparently. Evergreen sounds a lot of what was going on in ‘94, kind of genre garage rock meshed with some post punk. It feels like what the Delta Four and the Make Up were doing but more MC5 influence than soul. They were from Louisville and had a member of Slint. It’s low-fi, repetitive chords and single low end note with a kind of funk bass, sort of, with that signature of all garage, slightly distorted yelling sing-songy vocals to sound as if he was singing through a Fender amp. They probably could have been on Dischord in ‘94. I have no idea why somebody would waste their time reissuing this unless they had some harebrained idea that they would make a lot of money off of it. The CD has no lyrics, no pictures, nothing. I guess that is ok, I just prefer to know what people are saying and am not going to invest the time to listen to it over and over again to decipher what is being said in every mumbling song. They are doing what a lot of bands are doing now with the 70’s garage revival but doing it better than most of them. It claims to be dance punk, I don’t know what that means, but I agree, why not? It’s all and all ok but a bit too repetitive, all the songs sound like the same song done over and over again. I should have probably seen them when they existed. It has 14 songs at about 3 and half to 4 and half minutes each song, so a good length if this is what you’re into. (af)

The Ex - Dizzy Spells (Touch and Go)

The Ex is an enigma. Punk band. Free improvisers. Anarchist Collective. Fuck, Holland isn't a country. It's a commune! Over the past 20 plus years, the Ex has been releasing record after record of seemingly chaotic and unconnected music that can be both beautiful and abusive (I consider both of these terms to be positive and they are meant in praise). Their newest release, the Albini-produced Dizzy Spells, is still another challenge to their dedicated followers. Twelve songs considerably more subdued than their most recent material, The Ex have again shifted to a new position from attack to seduction.
Baudrillard wrote, "Total liberty, or total indeterminacy are not opposed to meaning. One can produce meaning simply by playing with chance or disorder." This could have been the manifesto for The Ex and their musical discourse. While creating a record of downplayed rhythms and elliptic structure they still surge forward into uncharted realms of their own private investigation. Dizzy Spells isn't so much a punk album as it's an experimental album. While it's an experiment that isn't without precedent (there are certainly shades of early Mekons, Steady Diet era Fugazi, maybe even the Au Pairs at times), it is unique to the context of The Ex. They can't help but bring their own brooding yet strangely playful style to whatever they do. Discordant and often staccato guitar parts become their own rhythm connecting with the always unique and often tribal drumming style. (Albini's production with The Ex--now on two albums--has been a godsend. The work they've done with him is certainly their best sounding--with the one exception being their Peel Session--and it's certainly their best drum sounds). The vocals clearly announce their proclamations while becoming their own texture. In a format that doesn't often rely on traditional melody and harmony, this record in its understatement creates its own beautiful field of tonality. (lh)

The First Punic War - Unicorn 7" (Carthage Vs Rome PO Box 41162 Des Moines, IA 50311)

This single mixes a speedy riff style of ‘90s math rock with a blast of electronics noise fuzz. This instrumentation is the most notable thing about “Unicorn,” the A side which repeats a line that reminds me of a surf-riff, only played super aggressive. It subsides by the midpoint and what sounds like tape collage or drone blasts is audible as a background, sort of like the old Jawbreaker sample-style. The B side starts off with a skittery drum machine pattern with weird programming, ironically entitled “Punk Rock”, followed by the bass-centric and concise “Simon the Sailor”. The vocals throughout are sort of muffled and hoarse, like the singer is swallowing the mic, which kind of makes sense with the Jesus Lizard reference they throw into their bio. It also reminds me of other ‘90s anachronisms like Boilermaker. Interesting debut. (gc)

Freakwater - End Time (Thrill Jockey)

This sixth release from Freakwater doesn't progress far from the previous album Springtime. They add sheen and deeper orchestrated arrangements, but as the album progresses that becomes less noticeable; foundation gleams through the mix revealing that not much changes in the old country. Although the label Thrill Jockey is known for more experimental adventurers such as Tortoise and Oval, Freakwater plays straight up, heavily Appalachian influenced country. The two females singers provide harmonies full of booze and shotgun references, whilst surrounding heartbreak and death bring their voices to the verge of crackin'. (sb)

Fugazi - The Argument (Dischord)

Since In On The Kill Taker, Fugazi has gone to all sorts of lengths to create CD art that stops just short of installation. Featuring found messages, old photographs and gum collections, Fugazi has pushed at the conventions of album design, much in the same way that they have done with their music. The inner booklet of The Argument holds the lyrics, typed with an old typewriter and layered on top of photos of suburban scenes--parking lot, new buildings and shopping malls (even a Party City sign). Although there are three separate photographs, they blend together seamlessly much like the suburbs themselves, forming a tribute to uniformity and uninteresting consistency. While this may seem meaningless at first, it only takes the first lines of the second track (?Cashout?) to understand its relevance--"on the morning of the first eviction / they carried out the wishes of the landlord and his son."
While a song about gentrification might not seem like a surprise to most Fugazi listeners, its lack of aggressive tone--replaced with overwhelming melody and balance of speed and motive--reflects the ongoing evolution of the stalwart band. The album continues with strong melodic themes, trading in the screaming and aggression that was omnipresent on previous albums. This sweet, natural air that pervades most of the album actually serves in framing the faster songs as more vital. Take ?Epic Problem? for example, a song with fury only held together with a literal "Stop" sang by Ian in his trademark scream. Somehow you appreciate the screaming more when it's less frequent. This is not the Fugazi I grew up on, but they are still the strongest band in music and I?m glad last year?s album was not their actual ?End Hits.? (jc)

Gang Gang Dance - God's Money (Social Registry)

So I went into this thinking that GGD would be like any of the Johnny-come-lately New York bands, more style than snake-oily substance, even though I was aware of their previous incarnation as Death and Dying and some ex-Cranium alumni. I was on the whole unprepared for this mish-mashing of ethnic tomfoolery a la Sun City Girls, the vocal morphing, the damaged non-dance beats, and the totally out weirdness of this grouping. Parts of this album remind me of the potential that was one ripe in Rah Bras, before they decided to coast in disco mode. Vocalist Lizzi Bougatsos sounds like she’s churning out Mandarin equivalents of Charlie Brown’s teacher’s muted trumpet mewl, maybe some sort of Kate Bush thing is going on here, especially with “Before My Voice Falls.” This may be one of those cases where knowing the context of the artist in advance could hurt as much as help. A blind toe dip concurs, it’s got a hook for sure, and I don’t know about the line and sinker, but they may be present as well. I heard they recently threw a total babyfit after being flown out to SF to play the Bicycle Film Fest, and did about two songs before storming off stage, but I wasn't there so my enjoyment of this cannot be hampered by petty gossip. (gc)

Gang Wizard - El Cortez Buy Y'A Drink (Deathbomb Arc, et al.)

Gang Wizard has been perpetrating its particular sound making practice for nearly a decade. This release assures its place in the cosmology of noise music with a density of label affiliations - this CD is a co-release between Blackbean and Placenta Tape Club, Deathbomb arc, ()Dial, Ecstatic Peace, morc, priapus, Old gold, SunShip, Unread, and White Tapes. "It's Alright(Wonderful)" starts off in a sort of stoner jam haze until the screaming kicks in. It devolves further into backwoods stomp, wiring indie rock cliches into a loose diagram of psych landing patterns. "Fucking Rosie" has a stop-start jerkiness to it that, though improvised, seems affected. "I Am a Snarling Ocelot" starts off with a pretty toy piano and chimes, and one hopes that they'll stick with this simplicity. Shoddy recording and an omnivorous taste for experimentation cover up their somewhat pedestrian starting points. Recalling the Homestead Records bands of the late '80s, Gang Wizard still believe in the value of the guitar solo, a form that seems to have gone out with the Dinosaur. One gets the feeling that they fell into this lo fi recording aesthetic. It adds layers of grit and grime that may not be present otherwise, otherwise they'd be playing fogey guitar rock. It's just better when they're not trying as hard to weird you out. "California" digs into your neural paths with its insistent hook, much as you might try to remove it. "Sending Nine Now" sounds like Crispy Ambulance in a blender with Electric Eels. The inherent goofiness of the bonus songs makes everything forgivable. (gc)

Golden Ticket - "d equals / hot cross buns" 7" (Sound Suicide)

Sometimes a perfect thing will hit you over the head when you least expect it. With an unknown band, it can be like love-at-first-sight, never knowing if the bliss will make it through the week, let alone the set. Golden Ticket struck me out of the stale derivative crowd, much as its Wonka-fied namesake. Hard to say what they manage to do differently, but they do it with the gusto that made me like punk in the first place and remind you that it is worthwhile to pay attention. I managed to see this band three times and was consistently blown away by each. Former members of the Death Wish Kids/Area 51 contingent of NW hardcore lineage, the band is augmented by frantic tension, feedback, and the charismatic lead of Nancy Jane. The strange juxtaposition of propulsive, straight-to-the-point punk and a woman with a goofy yet teetering vocal presence recalls finer moments of Skull Kontrol or Jaks. It's the Pretenders or Katrina and the Waves gone cavity-creep-crusty. Hilarious cover art tributes a dungeon master, like these two songs serve as soundtrack to a mulleted coming-of-age. Sadly, they'll probably disband before other recordings surface and this is a limited white vinyl press of 304. (gc)

Har Mar Superstar - S/T (Kill Rock Stars)

Anyone who has seen Sean Na Na will remember his R. Kelly cover. It hints at a persona the oddly charismatic songwriter has cultivated into his R&B younger brother, Harold Martin a.k.a. Har Mar. There is an omnipresent jokiness to Tillmann's songs regardless of genre, but his familiarity with genre cliches makes for a layered hilarity beyond lines like "Hypercolor tells me where my baby is hot."
I'm reminded of a conversation I had about cultural appropriation, and after years of adhering to a general party line, I decided that aesthetic and political considerations can conflict. White kids playing "other" music is not as cut-and-dried as all that. There is a power dynamic there that needs to be addressed, but who can say where one ought to place aesthetic affiliation? Why should white kids only identify with white (punk) music, and then conversely why should we as people of color identify with punk culture? Predecessors to this black music played by white punks argument include Vermin Scum funk band the Shit, the Make Up, even the source of the initial argument, !!!. In non-punk terms, it's G. Love & Special Sauce. I came to my own sort of conclusion in regards to food - there's a rampant pan Asian noodle trend in the Bay Area, but I can't complain about inauthenticity. Part of it is a general deference to restaurant staff, part of it is a less codified genre rule. I'll only complain if the food is bad.
Har Mar Superstar is not about authenticity, it's a cotton candy sugar rush and about as substantial. Like good R&B, it plays off generic expectations and offers some genuinely catchy production that encourages the shutting off of critical facilities in favor of humor and booty shaking. It's a parody where no one gets hurt. Check please. (gc)

Annie Hayden - The Rub (Merge)

Watching Spent's last show in 1997, I was in denial that they were coming to an end. Here was this seemingly perfect working unit of a band calling it a day. I've long since gotten over it, just as I've left a lot of things from those days behind, but years later, here is a reminder of what impressed me back then. Annie Hayden was one quarter of Spent and her debut solo album highlights her unique contribution to the band. It's comforting to see the kids still working together--fellow guitarist John engineered the album and sings on what must've been a Spent song (judging by the songwriting credits) and drummer Ed lends his talents. But this is Annie's show and her sweet, unpretentious voice and gilded, nimble guitar lines pave the way into a post-Spent era. She demonstrates the wit, melodicism, and earnest allure that characterized her former band, but with a gentler touch. Maybe it's the lack of testosterone surrounding her in the songwriting process or just a maturing with age, but this is a fairly calm and clear album. There are a surprising number of instrumentals included, but they don't get too self-indulgent and work in the context of the album. I'm not sure of her relevance in today's scene as she doesn't fit a type as far as remarkable female performers go--she's just a woman in her early thirties with an under-appreciated past, a girl-next-door charm, musical talent, and some pretty songs to share. I guess that's really all the relevance you need. (yc)

Heart Beats Red - 7" (Scaredy Cat Records PO Box 21543, 1850 Commercial Dr. Vancouver, BC V5N5T5 Canada)

Three pop-harmony-upbeat-heartbreak songs from the rose city, Portland Oregon. Heart Beats Red is re-acquainting the northwest with melody and talent that makes me nostalgic for bands like Tiger Trap and Adickdid. "911" is a testament to emotional want, need, aquisition, and estrangement, in that order. This 7" has been out for a little while now, and rumor has it that the band is taking a bit of a hiatus to spend some time in warmer climes, so if you're waiting for the full-length go out and get this to tide you over. It might be a little while. (tl)

Helms - The Swimmer (Kimchee)

In David Foster Wallace's collection A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again, he devotes a heavy chapter to the effect of television on young fiction writers--on televisual values affecting perceptions of reality. In this take, good writers are able to write about the experience of post-modernity through "image fiction," capturing the shallow buzz and confusion of overly mediated experience. The buzz of television's hyper-referentiality has only increased since the article was written back in 1990, and to a new school of artists even writers like Don DeLillo (he is cited favorably) are old hat--they comprise a new postmodern canon. Helms are stuck with this problem whether they know it or not. They are living out the parallel over-mediation problem in rock, which cycles its trends infinitely quicker than literature. Substitute floating pieces of Galaxie 500 or Slint for DeLillo or even Wallace himself, and decide whether you'd rather watch "ER" or "St. Elsewhere." While Helms may be trying to shape bedding out of its slowed down prettiness, the inescapable problem of their faithful rootlessness sticks in the maw like so much Tootsie Roll goop. How much do these boys owe to nautical-themed post-emo math rockers? There are whispering references to sailors and childhood action figures mixing the sing-speak of Ian Williams and Brian MacMahon, proof that this type of music is usually best served lyric-free. Noodly guitar flourishes a la Karate, volume knob tweaking a la Williams, etc. One track recounts an episode of "Three's Company." Which is not to say that it's wholly unenjoyable, just treacherously familiar. Wallace sees more hope for fiction writers than I can see for a new brood of indie rockers, but perhaps there is still time for them to prove us wrong. I just hope that time comes soon. (gc)

Hot Snakes - Automatic Midnight (Sympathy/Swami)

Assuming familiarity with other band incarnations of Reis/Froeberg, it's almost instinctive to group this with one you already know--I've heard that it sounds like Rocket From The Crypt (at times it does), and even heard it likened to Pitchfork by a few (not in my opinion). Mostly, it's hard to not want this to be the new Drive Like Jehu record. Of course to expect that is a disservice to the Hot Snakes (sorry, new moniker == new band). Unfortunately this "reunion" does not answer the question of Jehu fans waiting for the impossible encore: why did they vanish in their prime? Instead it redundantly supplies the answer we already knew to the question "do they rock?" In spades, duh, and it doesn't let up here. Instead of shifting dynamics, the Snakes blaze full throttle with no subtlety or pretension, and no recourse. Perhaps it's for the best that Jehu stopped when they did, letting old legacies take new forms. The adrenaline/testosterone mix is so pure it can't be forced; what an appropriate rock & roll band name! That name ought to tell you more about the sound than history does. (sb)

Howe - Confluence (Thrill Jockey)

"If a feller named monroe never fathered bluegrass he would still be unrecognized as the grand wizard of speed metal." So begins "Pontiac Slipstream," track three from the new Howe Gelb album (or currently monikered "Howe"--if he releases his next album under the handle "Bonnie Prince Howe," I'm outta here). Confluence blends his normal brew of art-rock and country with the same persuasion as last year's fantastic Giant Sand release, Chore of Enchantment. This divide, or rather cohesion of styles is played out in the two versions of the song "Vex." The Paris version is built on his art-rock style using audio clips (read "random chatter") of people speaking in French and talking in and around the Calexico tour bus, apparently caught on tape by Howe with his handy mini-disc recorder. Underneath it all is a slow moving pump organ and Howe's willingness to try anything twice. He quickly moves from "Vex (Paris)" to "Vex (Tucson)," not stopping in between to let you wonder what just happened. Where "(Paris)" was abstract "(Tucson)" is literal, using acoustic guitar and his deep soft voice that is so intently pop and so unmistakably country.
Overall this album is less like Chore than his last solo effort Hisser, settling for more distortion and less pop overtones. But the hooks that seem almost instinct to Howe are not at all absent on this album, creating instant hits like "3 Sisters," "Blue Marble Girl," and "Cold". You won't find many surprises inside this 78-minutes of music (the only exception being a lo-fi acoustic version of the Elvis-made-famous "Can't Help Falling in Love"), but that's exactly why you're a fan of Howe Gelb anyway--his consistent evolution, that albeit slow, is sweet as apple pie (and possibly more American). (jc)

International Airport - Nothing We Can Control (Overcoat)

International Airport is an amorphous group centered around Aggi and Tom of the Pastels (Tom is also in Appendix Out). They recorded this album in Tom's living room and it has that intimate, organic quality that reflects the space. Gentle instrumentation mixed with some electronic foolery. This would make a good soundtrack to a rainy afternoon spent next to the misty window with a cup of hot tea, a sleepy cat in your lap, and your crochet needle moving to the beat. I don't crochet, but point being there's enough movement in the music that you should be doing something along with it, not just napping. This is a delicate album, but it's not fragile. It's just the right balance of melody and ambience, grace and sweet awkwardness. Aggi's mumbled vocals and certain tuneful elements are reminders of the Pastels, but International Airport move beyond pegging as a "side project" by creating their own sense of timing and space. Some of the album takes a turn for the more unstructured, accidental beauty. The trippy nature of the notes, sampled girl giggle, and Stereolab-y "bah bah"s make track 7 a natural standout. The looped beats become more prominent in "Does Chocolate River Live Here?", conversing with the other instruments in a playful manner. But my favorite song just might be the short closing track, "Cyclonic Lanes," which combines both worlds into a neat earthy manufactured mix, making me wish the album was far from over. (yc)

Jackie-O Motherfucker - Liberation (Road Cone)

This Portland collective trades in improv-psych jams that dig into the dirt for indigenous treasures. Utilizing the boho-free-jazz work ethic and free-floating membership template of such nebulous ensembles as No Neck Blues Band and Tower Recordings, JOMF develop at their own pace, eschewing structure for a rambling organic reach. Captivating and pretty guitar tones hang in the still air, banjos and violins kick the ship off course, drums amble toward some distant goal. Mewly horns, vibes, and skittish loops all conjure up this image of peaceful anarchy, shockingly pastoral. There are some classic rock leanings emerging with the awkward vocals of "Something on your Mind"'s tinny art pop. Differing from the other Road Cone acts (Loren Mazzacane Connors, Irving Klaw Trio, and Alan Licht), JOMF have more invested in melodies and American pop music than its highbrow buddies. Not a whole lot more, mind you, but enough to make this an easy sell for the average listener. Drum machines guide the wandering fiddle and whammy bar dalliances of "Ray-O-Graph." "Peace on Earth" kicks things off with a flurry of bell sounds and muted frenzy that recalls Ayler or Shepp without actually being free jazz. Liberation is a nice departure for fans of mutating psychedelia that splits off from the rock family tree. (gc)

Jacques Kopstein - a (Frenetic)

The San Francisco-based Dilute is reputed for its obtuse, country-twinged math-pop slowed down to a simmering gurgle. a is the solo debut of Dilute leader, Marty Anderson. The teetering circus keyboards of the opening tracks lend an air of chaos to these proceedings, but it?s all very-based on songwriting. The ballad ?Baby Eye? has epic piano swells at a slow pace and an almost Tom Waits-y feel to the melodies, and then suddenly you hear the tape stop. It?s a neat trick, a comment on the medium that the solo project is inherently confined to, exposing the physical process of recording. Anderson?s vocals recall the naif-stylings of Modest Mouse?s Isaac Brock, or even authentic naif Daniel Johnston as he repeats mumbled lines over acoustic guitar strums, wanky ?70s rock riffs, and the aforementioned keyboards. a is an album with quirky charm that blooms into a fully-developed sensibility. Anderson should be rewarded for peppering his pop sensibilities with creepy and noisy elements which makes his bitter rants go down all the easier. Kopstein the alter ego has a bright future ahead. (gc)

Japanic - Red Book (Plethorazine)

Houston's Japanic robs the grave of Gary Numan and the Tubeway Army and makes off with some of the choicest bits. Along with recent retrofitters like Mocket and the Faint, they find that moment where punk transitioned/de-politicized into new wave fertile ground for influence mining. Like others of their ilk, Japanic occasionally fall prey to the dead-end of imitation, but there is plenty of effort to update the musical robo-fantasy with some currency. There are quirks and pleasures to be found in their awkward, unfamiliar moments; "Is It Safe?" plays off Talking Heads paranoia and squeaky guitar riffs. The male/female vocal interplay even reminds me of X, even though there's too much reliance on that same Matt Steinke vocoder-ish warble effect. I feel like this could be a live band that leaves a better impression than their recordings, much as Bis or Servotron did for me. All in all, Red Book is a promising debut that appeals to both nostalgia and pop futurism. (gc)

Jonny X and the Groadies - Illin? Technology (self-released)

Bleep bloop. scream. thrash. burning valkyries and monster hordes. These are the impressions that come to mind when listening to Jonny X and the Groadies. Live, this longstanding Portland band assaults its audience with strobe lights, nudity, disturbing masks, and the full-bore Mr. X himself. Accompanied by digitized blast beats, the Metallica-influenced guitar chugging and sensory overload of a live show is tough to capture on record. ?Illin? Technology? is a good stab at it though, an encapsulation of the Groadies? juvenile sense of humor and skill with mood. Songs like ?Crushed by Machinery? and ?Organ Failure? offer the Groadies sci-fi social consciousness, warning of our enslavement by machines and a ?Matrix? like organ harvest. ?Gravedigger? has such fantastic lyrics as ?No Premature ejaculation for me tonight?Digging my own grave with a rounded off spork?gravemarker, middle finger!? Ah, romance. The dystopia of Jonny X is akin to the cartoonish postapocalyptic fantasy tracks prevalent in pre-millenial hip hop. Cartoonish violence and gore seems like bad subject matter in our current state of affairs, but much like the reported end of Generation X irony, its adherents are sticking to old habits. (gc)

Karate - Unsolved (Southern)

Geoff Farina and company get increasingly downtempo from the down starting point of Karate's talky, intimate body of work. They are a perfect example of "Tweemo"--a genre I just made up--bridging the fanbases of Promise Ring and Braid with those of Tullycraft or Belle and Sebastian types (tweemo unity hinges on sweaters, thick-rimmed glasses, bowlcuts, and datelessness). They are sensitive, but oh, can they rock out in that non-threatening white boy way. As derisive as that sounds, I have a genuine soft spot for Farina's songs. Karate songs have always taken a different tack than those of Secret Stars, but between both groups there is enough lovelorn mixtape material to give Lou Barlow a run for the money. On Unsolved the music is willing to "go there" - "there" being the full-on '70s rock freakout "Sever" or even more noticeable nods into James Taylor country. These were moments of indulgence emerging on In Place of Real Insight, but while previously offset with straighter pleasures, these have come to fruition as jazzy (read "wanky") guitar solos. This only seems ostentatious in comparison to previous records, but cliches are still cliche, however minimally applied. Lyrically, Farina offers obscure details and struggles with trod-upon idealism with the cadence of a calmer Chris Leo. That's really their forte at this point, and songs like "the Angels Just Have to Show" highlight that mood of insomniac regret. "This is one splinter of a sentence, both a pain and a pleasure to try to expel," he intones on the Arab Strap-esque "This Day Next Year", compelling you to lick the wound. (gc)

Lesser/Pisstank - split 7" (555)

More guerrilla sampling-and-killing technique with Lesser using both recognizable and derivative sounds from some Adam and the Ants records (think drum corps). The Pisstank side contains a NWA track with a few other noisy, grating numbers ranging from hardcore (punk) to hardcore (4-on-the-floor bangin' techno) to de Babalon/Shizuo-style noise-breaks. And all on yellow vinyl, 'cuz that's just how they do it at 555. (mt)

Mike Levy - Fireflies (Parasol)

It's called the solo debut from Mike Levy, but if you look carefully, you'll see that all of the other members of his fabulous San Francisco band, the Sneetches, play on it! Other notable players include: Alison Faith Levy (no relation) from the Loud Family and David Immergluck and Jonathan Segel of Camper Van Beethoven fame. Why'd they contribute their talents to this outing? Just take a listen. Mike Levy combines the best elements of pop songsters like Harry Nilsson and the Zombies to make the upbeat, yet bittersweet, collection of tunes presented here. It took him five years (and two record labels) to finally put this thing out, but it sounds like it was worth the wait. Give this a shot if you like introspective pop. (as)

Lightning Bolt - Conan 7" (Load)

The best live music experience I had in the year 2000 was seeing Lightning Bolt six times in one week. Their musical jungle gym workouts leave an impression unlike anything short of Animal from the Muppets after chugging Bunsen Honeydew's growth potion. Two live tracks here from radio shows prove that there need never be overdubs on planet Bolt. Having only vinyl releases so far, the hiss storm of the LP has given way to song-like features and calls for "discipline," but all are basted in the bass feedback deep fry. I'm tempted to call them the best live band in America, but why stop there? Because the words "live," "band," and "America" will cease to hold any meaning. Your suspended disbelief and dropped jaw will have to testify mutely. (gc)

Lovelife - The Rose He Lied By (Troubleman)

After the marked cataclysm that was Jaks, it's hard to imagine that gang conjuring up anything as incendiary or downright shocking again. Preceding the now wave, no wave, and goth-core revivals of late, the Michigan/Chicago quartet dropped a few vinyl bombs (and one CD-only full-length, Hollywood Blood Capsules) in the mid-'90s and can only be pigeonholed in hindsight. Half of them relocated to Baltimore and started up Lovelife, who are content to fill out the space that bands like Jaks, Scissor Girls, and the VSS paved. In wisdom or maturity, Lovelife doesn't go in for the frontal kill. In the logic of mellowing with age, they usurp tendencies for throttle with a lulling, sleepy, creeping goth vibe. Violins, horns, and chimey bell things create discomfort that is palpable, but it is all somehow smooth and sexy. Shades of Birthday Party, Jesus Lizard, and even contemporaries and parallel thinkers Get Hustle cross their paths. The record stands right in between what they are capable of as a live act--the first time I saw them I found it miserable, boring and flat. The last time, with the addition of horn section, I had to swallow every bad thought or word about them--they can be a devastating force. Emo kids who namedrop "darkwave" are willing victims in their hands. (gc)

Low - Things We Lost in the Fire (Kranky)

What can I say about Low that hasn't already been said? You already know they exemplify slow indie rock and ever since their rendition of "Little Drummer Boy" was featured in a GAP commercial, they have been garnering even more national attention. That being said, Things We Lost in the Fire is definitely a happier and more accessible album than their previous (Secret Name), with highlights including "Dinosaur Act," "Whore" and "Like a Forest." Not that it's pop by any means, but it captures a more content mood than Low previously were willing to show. It's easy to compare them with Yo La Tengo--both bands are a trio with a married couple within the group, both are deeply influenced by the Velvet Underground (more so Yo La Tengo), and both create beautiful, intelligent songs that keep indie rock hanging by a thread. This CD actually sounds like Yo La Tengo's latest album, And then Nothing Turned Itself Inside Out, but taking those happy, almost sing-along melodies and slowing them down considerably, especially on songs like "Medicine Magazines," "Embrace" and "In Metal." Although it's been stated that Low have broken out of the slowcore mold, this album (while thoroughly enjoyable) is not a breakthrough one, but rather is the Low you have come to know and love. The upbeat tempo may win over newcomers, but stalwart Low admirers need not worry. (jc)

The Lowdown - Revolver II (Strange Attractors Audio House/Thin the Herd)

Santa Cruz's visionary no-wave trio strip-mines noise and indie rock stomping grounds with refreshing abandon. Their approach recalls such disparate influences as They Might Be Giants, the Contortions, Jad Fair, Beefheart, and Oly homeboys Old Time Relijun. With sax bleats, whines, whimpers, and keyboard meltdowns, the boys flesh out surprisingly pop bits from the melodic scraps of avant-garde eviscerati. The imagery is collage with wires, hair, and masking tape while the rest of the music world seems obsessed with Photoshopping the rough edges off. The title Revolver II indicates a desire to take on bigger myths than even Oasis dared to, but the casualness towards anachronistic "rock masterpiece" status furthers my theory; the post-rock/idm backlash will be lead by cave-dwelling pre-rockers, stretching their opposable thumbs to encompass all available sounds. Having a good chuckle deflating such mythos, the band may find itself in a conundrum with its growing popularity--will they become the Blink 182 of noise? Single-bandedly forging their backwoods jamboree into a global freak scene, the Lowdown may yet reclaim Santa Cruz from the ghosts of Camper Van Beethoven and Deadhead sluggishness. (gc)

Lungfish - Necrophones (Dischord)

My friend Charlie got a tattoo from Daniel Higgs a few years ago. It's a heart with flames coming out of the top through a tube and it has a banner on the bottom reading "Fidelity." It's a beautiful old-style tattoo, besides the fact that it immediately makes me think of the not-so-good old Dischord band Fidelity Jones. Apparently when Charlie and his friend drove up to Baltimore the one day a week that Higgs does tattoo work, his friend didn't have a real idea of what he was getting, just that he wanted, "an anchor in outerspace." He used to be a sailor and as a kid was obsessed with being an astronaut, hence the outer space part of the concept. Higgs drew up a couple of ideas, putting stars next to an anchor, floating in a blackness of space. After about fifteen minutes of trying to sketch an anchor floating in space, he scratched the whole idea and decided to go in a different direction. Eventually, Charlie's friend left Balitimore with a tattoo of an anchor drawn in old-style with a banner below it reading, "outerspace." It was a brilliant concept and one that Higgs seems to use in his music as well as his tattoo art; simplify and repeat. Necrophones, much like the anchor tattoo, is Lungfish at its best--a raw eccentric tone pushed and pulled song by song with an end that seems nowhere close. This album builds on last year's The Unanimous Hour in that it is a break from previous sound while continuing the same values of the band that they have always had over the past decade. Their music is a puzzle played with only one piece; there is no finish and there is no beginning. "Until the repetitions cease/the repetitions must increase." Anchors away... (jc)

Mates of State - My Solo Project (Omnibus)

This is the long-awaited debut full-length from the Bay Area duo who has been earning kudos from their live shows for the past year since they relocated from Kansas. I've found them to be a unique addition to the scene and their organ/drums, female/male vocals dynamic is quite catchy. Going in with high expectations, I was a little taken aback on first listen. The intro/outro tracks are odd choices (old home recordings of Kori's sister singing the "Cheers" theme and a song from "Fame" with a bit of tweaking) and the production (especially on the vocals) seemed really thin. But I got over it on subsequent listens because I genuinely like the songs. I don't always understand what they're singing about, but having the lyrics to read clears some things up from songs that I'd only ever seen live. They manage to combine a complex pop and melodicism with the drive of emo (due to Jason's sharp drumming and strained but charming vocals). My favorite song of theirs ever since the first time I saw them is on here, "A Control Group." Other stand-out tracks are "La'hov," "Throw Down," "I Have Space," and "Everyone Needs An Editor." The whole album is pretty enjoyable, I just hope that with their next release they're able to better capture the full extent of what a great band they are. (yc)

The Maybellines - S/T CD EP (Shelflife)

Denver's the Maybellines look like your typical nerdy indie pop band (maybe even more dorky), and mostly sound like one too. Perky and peppy, cute-sounding girl vocalist (but thankfully not too much so). Good tunes about slumber parties and summer and unrequited love. Simplistic but just enough going on to keep your attention. Nothing about them makes them stick out particularly (maybe a little bit edgier than your regular indie pop fare) but I was able to recognize one of their songs when I heard it on the radio, which is a good sign I suppose. This EP sports eight short tracks clocking in under fifteen minutes. My picks are "Space Mission Bible Camp," "Sally" and "Sleep Over." (yc)

Mekons - Journey to the End of the Night (Quarterstick)

The overall tone of this album seems dark and a bit subdued, playing on the title's theme of a venture through a somber urban night, and exemplified in such songs as "Out in the Night," "City of London," and "Cast No Shadows." But have no fear- the band's brazen high spirits and defiance are here, too, on "Tina," "Neglect," and "Last Night on Earth." And of course the basic Mekons vocal trinity is present throughout: Tom Greenhalgh and Jon Langford take their turns out front, bowing when necessary to Sally Timms's ever-haunting voice, at its best on the melancholy "Last Weeks of the War." But even when her singing is uncharacteristically demure, Timms still provides the sensual buttress against gloom and apprehension. She can make a trip through the shadows of a poorly lit parking garage feel good. Just listen to "Flood." This is one of the finest Mekons albums in years. (dc)

Meltdown - The Map (Archigramophone)

This collection of unreleased material by Meltdown comes along just as the hype about neo no-wave is dying down. How appropriately anachronistic then that Meltdown were ahead of their time as far as hep influences go, yet they disbanded back in 1996. Meltdown fits neatly into a history of post-punk that runs through Scissor Girls to Erase Errata--an aesthetic of confrontation in the music and gender roles. Guitarist Raquel Vogl went on to Crainium and Amy Heneveld played in the recently departed Emergency, but what makes this record work goes beyond mere name-checking. It's a beauteous mess of biting guitars, primitive funk and playground chants turned sinister.
The opening of "Introduction" sets the stage for their claims of independence from any movement or moment other than their own: "We are Meltdown" breaks off into a groovy vowel-diphthong splintering by Heneveld, asserting an identity for the band while undoing it. Theme songs are tricky beasts, just ask Wang Chung. Mixing live and studio recordings with Fugazi svengalis Guy and Brendan, this Washington, D.C. quartet prodded against the boundaries of punk songwriting and atonal vocalizations. Guitarist Fiona Griffin takes the mic on tracks like "Postman"--both her and Heneveld take a hiccupy, talky vocal style that might rub off as irony-lite in larger doses. Guttural animal sounds and threats to "melt you down to little balls of flesh" permeate "Night Bird Nightmare." All Scars' Chuck Bettis takes over mic duties on "Gutter Up," chanting "it starts in the streets, not in the offices."
These four individuals should have made a bigger dent in the consciousness of music fans the first time around, so consider this a corrective rather than a yearbook snapshot. Meltdown make pleasure out of anti-pleasure and The Map is too weird and unwieldy to be just a footnote in D.C. punk's past. (gc)

Monad - This! Is! The! New! European! The! Free! Jazz! (DoggPony)

The duo of Tom Boram and John Berndt delve into a mix of jazz instrumentation overlaid or butting up against electronic sounds. It’s nothing like what one might think - this isn’t acid jazz electronica, rather the bleeps and bloops of minimal techno colliding with the skronky textures of free jazz excess. It works where it seems to matter, in backing off enough to let the sounds play off each other, creating a dialogue of human breath and more alien garbled emissions. Boram’s flatulent keyboards and Berndt’s stuttering saxophones slow down to a trickle on tracks like “For Sivatri Devi” and “For St. Telesphorous,” letting the sounds percolate rather than pummel. It all seems so dry and avant-garde academic on paper, but it’s still fun stuff. American counterparts might be Rhys Chatham’s trumpet project or the art-schooled El Guapo. Dedicating tracks to influences like J.R.R. Tolkein and Christian Dior is totally weird, but so are you if you go for this. Maybe this is the sound of 2010. (gc)

My Dad is Dead - The Engine of Commerce (Vital Cog)

Mark Edwards has been playing as My Dad Is Dead for a long time, starting in 1984. He took some time away from releasing records since 1997's Everyone Wants the Honey, But Not the Sting, but Ohio's answer to Joy Division is back in fine form. Playing all the instruments by himself on Engine of Commerce, Edwards makes a jaunty pop stab with tunes like "Finger on the Pulse." But it's the confessional soul-baring that he's best known for that makes it a MDID record. "Urgency" doubles as midlife crisis/catharsis with its sense of foreboding backed by upbeat pop, defiant with its chorus of "I'm not gonna quit because your world expects me to." His vocals are an acquired taste, and his overstuffed turns of phrase can sag, but the perseverance over nearly twenty years of music is a simple inspiration.
At first, the album cover's field of soldier statues/memorials looked to me like an obvious reference to 9-11 and the ash-covered refugees, but Edwards couldn't foresee the connection. Still, it places a new MDID record in a current context of war-mongering: trying to turn grief into hope as on "Sleight of Hand." "Come up to the podium, give a speech...change all of our minds, make us believe that we can conceive of a future that we can trust, won't self-destruct run out of love." (gc)

Necronomitron (Load)

All I know is that one of these guys was the drummer in Elvish Presley/Black Elf Speaks. If you don't know what that band was about, it was USAISAMONSTER and friends dressed up as Elves and playing Tolkein-inspired prog. Which brings us to this Necronomitron review. So their name references the Necronomicom, which is a concept of sorts I guess. The drums are fast and filled with tom-bashing, guitars are ripping meathooks swung at your ears from great heights, sort of like a more straight-forward Mick Barr. The vocals are whiny falsetto scream variety. Sort of apocalyptic grindcore that approaches event horizon on burners like "Blood Clot Guts." It's hard to say what to make of this whole thing - I am a big supporter of Load and wish I had more of a background in metal. I don?t know if technical metal folks would consider this more thrash - it's sloppier than stuff like Iron Lung, and the emphasis is more on speed than heaviness. While it's good and I can imagine being won over by a live performance, I don't foresee myself listening to this often. But then again what do I know, I just started listening to the Misfits after being out of high school for ten years. (gc)

Nedelle - From the Lion's Mouth (Kill Rock Stars)

There will always be a soft spot in my heart for perfectly executed pop music, and at its best this record falls into that very spot. Nedelle (who also plays in the Curtains) is a female singer/songwriter whose music is very twee and light. Happily, though, Nedelle has a much better grasp on songwriting than many female singer/songwriters who rely on "cuteness" alone to drift through records. In other words, this album could easily be terrible, but it succeeds through perfect pop songwriting. In her interpretation of pop songwriting, however, Nedelle is not such a strict constructionist like Belle & Sebastian. This does not sound as much like a current musician trying to duplicate records she heard growing so much as taking those records as a starting point for a new point of view. In making the popular personal, this record comes much closer to the spirit of older hit records than many lesser artists who simply try to ape their parent's record collections. (ng)

Of Montreal - "A Celebration of H. Hare" 7" (Happy Happy Birthday to Me)

Nothing can get the song "A Celebration of H. Hare" out of my head. Not the "Pizza in the morning, pizza in the evening..." commercial, not the O-Town song "All for Love," not anything. Kevin Barnes writes songs that sound so familiar and catchy, that you feel like you can hum them upon hearing them for the first time. Maybe it's his innocent, high-pitched voice that makes him seem so likable, or the fact that he and the rest of Of Montreal look exactly like the Monkees (pre-Headquarters). How can you not love a guy that wears an orange scarf on stage? That fact should be enough to make you want to join this Happy Happy Birthday to Me Records singles club, besides knowing that 7"s from Essex Green, The Minders and Marshmallow Coast are also part of the deal and all the singles come in distinctive hand-made sleeves. Even though "A Celebration of H. Hare" shows up later on the band's singles/songles collection, Horse and Elephant Eatery, and the other side of this 7" is described as (according to the insert) "the me and dave amusing ourselves at our parents house on christmas side" (and what I describe as "boring"), this is still a single worth having. (jc)

The Orange Peels - So Far (spinART)

California is called "The Golden State" not just because of the precious ore found in the 1800s, but also for its natural beauty, pleasant weather, and-- most importantly--the idea that anyone, regardless of social or economic background, can make it here. Because Silicon Valley was ground zero for the Internet gold rush, those of us who lived here in the late-1990s felt the full impact of the housing crunch. More people wanted to live here than we had homes for, and as demand for housing went up, so did the prices. Given that, it's almost unbelievable that a musician and his wife were able to buy their dream home in the middle of it all, but through much hard work and saving, Allen Clapp and Jill Pries of the Orange Peels, did it. (This is the Golden State, remember.) The house was one designed by Joseph Eichler, an architect who used a sparse, modern style to showcase the natural environment while providing all the amenities of living in the world of tomorrow.
Not all was picture-perfect, however. The band had released an album to lots of critical acclaim, but it was not heard much outside a small group of pop music enthusiasts. The pressure to make another record more palatable to the taste du jour was intense. So, Allen withdrew into the garage of his house, which he'd converted into a recording studio. Meditating on Carpenters and Dionne Warwick records gave him direction on the pop songwriting format; disillusionment with the music industry and the near breakup of his band gave him the subject matter. A year and a half and another record label later, the Orange Peels have released their second collection of hits, So Far. The contrast between the idyllic myths and the stark reality of life in California are directly paralleled here by the use of upbeat melodies and bittersweet lyrics. It's a winning combination that several British bands, such as the Zombies, the Smiths, and even Belle & Sebastian, have used to great effect. Unfortunately, American bands generally seem to pass on this practice--to their detriment. In addition, by including specific references to Northern California, the Orange Peels give the melancholy a concrete form with inferred causes rather than being merely an abstract ennui. It's the blues, in a sense--not just emo whining--and through this, the listener can connect with the musicians as folks who understand what it's like to live in God's country. Veteran players Larry Winther, Bob Vickers, and John Moremen aptly flesh out the "California Sound".
The eleven songs contained in this album form a new soundtrack for modern living. It should be played in your car on long drives, on your favorite radio station, and on your stereo when you're at home with the one you love. It'll give you the feeling that even if things aren't OK right now, eventually everything will turn out all right; just like how the sun always comes back to shine on the Golden State. (as)

Paik - Satin Black (Strange Attractors Audio House)

I really liked My Bloody Valentine in the early 90's. I eventually got into more upbeat groups like Roller Skate Skinny and Mercury Rev when David Baker was in the band. When he left they just went to shit. Anyways, Paik doesn't do it for me. There were parts of the record that went on too long and sometimes I thought this album was on vinyl due to some songs sounding like the record was skipping. For me, there was just too much layering of sound going on. There were pieces and sprinkles of good heavy bass playing but then it would just fizzle out. I was really hoping for left overs. I did like how the drummer played. There is something about a consistent ride symbol that can make the worst of songs tolerable to enjoyable. If it were not for that I would have never made it through the whole album. I think if Paik were to concentrate more on beating their instruments and less on sound texture, they could have a ton of potential. (jb)

The Papercuts - Rejoicing Songs (CassingleUSA)

Rejoicing Songs is quite the unexpected little gem from singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist Jason Quever. I first saw Jason when he was guesting in Duster and have since seen the Papercuts a few times. While I thought the band had some catchy tunes, I have to admit I wasn't blown away. Their acousti-pop just wasn't particularly distinctive. While this first collection of songs isn't breaking new musical ground, the eight-track intricacies lend the songs lots of intimacy and character. Casiotone beats, reverby organ, piano, cello, a bit o' scratching, and sparse percussion collaborate on different songs to accompany Jason's boyish-sounding voice (which reminds me of a gentler Isaac from Modest Mouse). Actually, Jason's vocal accents and phrasing are what make the songs charming and keep somewhat straightforward lyrics from being boring. The songs here vary from KG-like minor-key talky pop to more dour Black Heart Procession piano-y tunes. My favorite track happens to be a song I remember from seeing them live--the whistle-accompanied, sing-along chorused "Gravity." This album makes me view the Papercuts in a new light and I now look forward to catching them play in person again. (yc)

Portastatic - De Mel, De Melão EP (Merge)

This is the first release in a while for Mac McCaughan as Portastatic and it's definitely a different take on things. This is his homage to five Brazilian artists: Caetano Veloso, Gilberto Gil, Arnaldo Baptista, Gal Costa, and Joyce. While I'm far from intimately familiar with Brazilian music, I have heard a sampling and can tease out an idea of what the originals sound like from Mac's renditions. He has lovingly given the tunes a Portastatic bent of lush lo-fi and kept many of the Portuguese lyrics intact. My least favorite of the bunch is the middle track, "I Fell In Love One Day," as its dirgy, crackly, beepy texture trudges a bit too much and reminds me of a tuneless Smog song, although the trumpet has its appeal. I much prefer the happier blip of "Baby" and the sweetness of "Clareana," songs that reflect the vibrant tile of the chapel on the cover. "Lamento Sertanejo" makes me think of Giant Sand while "Nao Indentificado" is the most Portastatic-sounding of the lot and possibly my favorite track just for its purity of heart. While it's a bit odd to hear Mac's voice singing foreign words, it works, and this EP is certainly a keeper. (yc)

Postal Blue - S/T CD EP (Drive-In)

This EP is short and sweet, literally. With songs like "Maybe I'm dreaming" and "I know where your dreams go," it's hard not to feel like it's sugar-coated. Brazil's Postal Blue don't try to break any new ground with their four bright yet melancholy songs. According to the band, this debut is not a first; "as strange as it may seem - we have always been around." It's true, this sound has been around for a long time in independent music; with recent bands like Belle and Sebastian, who in turn have taken threads from Nick Drake. Not that Postal Blue sound exactly like these other bands, rather they continue with a tide that others created and have solid enough melodies to hook the listener. They are on the lower edge of this genre though, losing it mostly with the cheesy lyrics and song titles. Certainly with a little time and experience this band could put out a really good LP, as long as it doesn't have the word "dream" in the title... (jc)

Pram - The Museum of Imaginary Animals (Merge)

This album is as quaint and fanciful and wonderful as the title makes it out to be. At times it strikes me as a playful version of Broadcast with spritely horns, vibes, theramin, an electronic beat and a real sense of beauty in the absurd. I can imagine myself in some candy forest being lead by a strange pixie girl with the threat of a looming evil but fun diversions that make you forget you're lost. It is a testament to the music that it takes a reading of the lyrics to make you realize there's much darkness lurking in the corners of the bright, pretty, engrossing displays. It's not that you don't hear what's being sung, but it's so beguilingly packaged that you really don't process as a whole what's being said. Or maybe I just have a problem multi-tasking. Anyhow, I put this in the large box where Broadcast, Movietone, and even Stereolab reside in my head and mark it as one to cherish. (yc)

The Red Scare - Strangers Die Everyday (Troubleman/HandHeldHeart)

The Red Scare play hardcore punk rock in the vein of bands from the early '90s with a modern twist. Think the Rye Coalition side of the split with Karp, Sleepytime Trio, and maybe Heroin. While the Red Scare aren't doing anything groundbreaking, they certainly have made an impact on hardcore today--consistently writing great songs, releasing great records and constantly touring. Strangers Die Everyday is much slower and different than their first LP, Capillary Lockdown, but that's a good thing. The new songs ebb and flow, pulsate and occasionally come up for air (there are two terrific instrumental songs on here). The guitar playing between Jon and Kip is really great, as they both appear to have a huge Iron Maiden influence ("Smokey Mountain High"). The rhythm section of Abby and Matt tie this record together ("Risking Your Life...") and hold it up until the end. All in all, a superb hardcore record that is driving and powerful, but leaves you enough room to breathe. Nine out of ten. (cp)

Steve Reich and Musicians - Live 1977: From the Kitchen Archives (Orange Mountain Music)

Though more than a quarter century has passed since Reich and friends recorded this performance in New York art haven the Kitchen, these pieces have an untarnished freshness. Maybe the deceptive simplicity of Reich’s concepts keep his work from sounding dated, even as pieces reliant on “cutting edge” technology of the time can be betray their age.

A prime example of an idea whose simplicity is deceiving is the 1968 composition “Pendulum Music,” wherein microphones swing back and forth in front of an amplifier, playing with feedback and giving a sonic representation to some principles of physics. It’s also an eerie, ghostlike sound, squeaky and rhythmic and not at all out of place amongst some of today’s harsher noise acts. In this performance, the feedback settles into a steady moan over five minutes, a primitive waveform with subtle shifts in color and tone. Reich himself said of the piece “it’s audible sculpture. If it’s done right, it’s kind of funny.”

I got into Reich from hearing his tape loop experiments, which lead to his technique of phasing, repeated lines falling out of synch with each other and turning something like a street preacher’s rant (“It’s Gonna Rain”) into a broken phoneme machine, sensible syllables slurred into stoccato blocks of sound. Steven Guibbory’s “Violin Phase” performance here achieves the same effect, with Guibbory playing live along side three prerecorded violin tracks gradually phasing in and out with each other. Reich’s interest in Balinese and African music comes to the fore with “Music for Pieces of Wood” and “Drumming – Part Four,” the former hypnotic and clicky with claves while the latter is playfully melodic with glockenspiel, bongos, voices, and whistles.

The Kitchen tapes were gathering dust in boxes until archivist Stephen Vitiello got to work on these reissues. The nonprofit arts organization started in 1971 and gave working space to video artists and musicians like Laurie Anderson, Tony Conrad, and Christian Marclay. This sort of institutional acceptance of edgy artists into some sort of canon seems to happen faster and more definitively in New York than anywhere else, but skimming this history does make it bubble with some magical energy of a time when more rules were being made and broken than the over-informed and transgression-numbed present. Though regarded as a pioneering minimalist, this recording makes me consider Reich’s place in a continuum between academic politesse and the noise to come from downtown bohos or other liminal types like Rhys Chatham. These pieces seem like more of a breakthrough in terms of extending perception and opening up a sonic palette. (gc)

Rhythm of Black Lines - S/T (Six Gun Lover)

This new project from Paul Newman's Paul Newman didn't barrel me over on initial listen, but it did offer surprise. I was expecting a cookie-cutter of the math-lite instrumentals and moodiness of that eponymous band. Rhythm of Black Lines instead offers four tracks of pleasant poppish turns, grafting pieces from that playbook for texture wrap. The guitar lines are clean and straight ahead, the vocals surprisingly falsetto and the mood inifinitely more upbeat than expected. I get stuck in a rut of analyzing music with the critic cap constantly on and had this pegged as "Polvo meets the Police." Hardly life changing and the simple answer to the unposed question--this will indeed appeal to fans of the Tejano-slowcore scene from whence it spawned, but those little differences and pleasantries provide relief from the impression that you've heard it all before. (gc)

The Rock*A*Teens - Noon Under the Trees CD EP (Moodswing)

Cabbagetown, Georgia?s gothic rock stars are back with five songs of eternal gloomy goodness. For me, their sound has always conjured up images of Echo & the Bunnymen?s Ian McCulloch fronting a 50?s band sucked into a 40?s-style radio blasting at a Southern backwater bar with a slowly spinning disco ball bouncing beautiful light off the late-night sinners and barflies. The music has a timeless quality through their use of effects and arrangement?jangly guitar with a distance, serene keys cut by distortion, strained vocals with a dirty edge. Sometimes printing out the lyrics for a band is just useless and embarrassing, but Rock*A*Teens songs are like outsider poetry which is sometimes obscured by their tuneful, echoing melodies. Their style may not have mass appeal, but for those who are interested, this is as good a place to start as any. (yc)

Saint Etienne - Sound of Water (Sub Pop)

In the past ten years, Saint Etienne have been quite prolific, putting out a convoluted mix of albums, singles, EPs, remix albums, solo albums, etc. On Sound of Water, their latest album, Saint Etienne have created a more mature sound that is similar enough to their previous works to still evoke pure pop pleasure, while being distinct enough to sound new and fresh. As music journalist Simon Reynolds points out in the liner notes, this new album can be seen as a conflation between Saint Etienne's two disparate sides--one embodied by the quest for pop perfection, and the other by a streak of sonic experimentation. This synthesis is evidenced by the experimental electronic bleeps and bloops bubbling just beneath the lush pop orchestration and the sparkling vocals of Sarah Cracknell. They had help on this album from Sean O'Hagen of the High Llamas, and the Lippok brothers of To Rococo Rot, all of whose influences can be easily distinguished. (jh)

The Salteens - Short-Term Memories (Endearing)

Sharp pop complete with bah-bahs and hand claps. I originally thought this was well-performed but there was something a little annoying about it. A bit too retro? Too much power guitar? Lead male vocals a tad thin at times? Bass too bubbly? Just too cheesy in general? It reminded me some of Allen Clapp without the charm. But to their credit, the Salteens do what they do with precision and a sense of fun and I ended up liking it better than I thought I would. There's enough of a variety in style that's it's not boring in that sense. For example, "Crash the Market" sounds like Pansy Division meets the Rentals and then is followed up by "Culture"'s acoustic guitar partnered with organ, followed by the Big Star sound of "Guy Dog." "Emptyhead" is New Order-ish and the album closes out with the peppy horn-driven "Nice Day." In the end, this album does provide for pleasant listening, but will probably be hard-pressed to become a remarkable part of your music collection. (yc)

Saturday Looks Good to Me - (Ypsilanti)

If you put the second song off this CD on a tape for a friend and fail to include very much information, he or she will probably assume it is taken from a thirty year old motown 45--the rhythm, the energy, the farawayness of the sound making it easy to believe the song had been sitting naked in a box, vinyl turning grey-ish, waiting for a chance. Of course if you play it for a group of your friends, you can have an immediate and unrelenting dance party, where everyone spins and leaps with an uncontainable frenzy and joy. Fred Thomas, who has played punk with a Hüsker Dü-like tension and complexity in the band LOVESICK and founded the sometimes-minimal sometimes-lush improvisational band FLASHPAPR, is working on another approach entirely in SLGTM--that of songwriter and producer--but without the megalomania of Phil Spector or the schizophrenia of Brian Wilson. He has, however, taken the role at its best and pulled together the swinging horns, distant bells and crooning voices of his Michigan peers into song. Fortunate enough to have friends talented and considerate enough to be able to deliver lines like "there is no impetus for sadness" and play over the top sax solos without the slightest hint of irony, he is also able to recognize what each song requires to succeed--huge production thick with instrumentation, or only bubbling noise, echoey guitar and a crisp voice. The songs are heavy with longing, like the best of their predecessors, but SLGTM is not about nostalgia or mimicry. The inspiration of this record is readily available to the most blasé of listeners, but this is where its subtler strength appears. At the moments where the record seems most familiar--the similarities between ?I Would Find it So Beautiful? and Otis Redding?s ?I?ve Been Loving You Too Long (to Stop Now)? are striking--convention is slyly manipulated. Notes resonate for a moment too long, unplaceable sounds drift in and out of focus, a lyric cuts too deep (?oblivious to the irrelevance of things that are done?) and there?s no avoiding in what world the record was made. Whether this was intentional or a by-product of its homemade process is unknowable, and perhaps immaterial. This record demonstrates the possibility of infusing old forms with new meaning, and it is great to dance to. (es)

Scholastic Deth ? Shackle Me Not! (Six Two Five)

Old school skatepunk and wry humor collide in this debut release from former members of Spazz, End of the Century Party, Bombs of Death, and Jud Jud. Songs about reading (?Bookstore Core?), dotcom crashes (?Options?), and other odd topics work their way into speedy riffs that could rekindle the mosh pit frenzy. The aesthetics and lyrical choices of Scholastic Deth point to the hardcore of days gone by, but it is refreshingly dated in its lack of cynicism. There?s some wisdom to songs like ?Options? and ?Rock Together? - ?Punk is just a network of friends?let?s begin to talk together, so we can ROCK TOGETHER.? There?s even an indictment of the youth culture that?s been co-opted on ?Xtreme Equals Mainstream? and endorsement for having a ?Positive Mental Attitude.? Max Ward?s lyric notes are often much, much longer than the lyrics themselves. Yes, fight the system, write your angry letters to MRR, and grab your board. Godspeed you, generation TRL. (gc)

764-HERO - Weekends of Sound (Up)

Nearly two years after their breakthrough album, Get Here and Stay, 764-HERO returns with their latest full-length, Weekends of Sound. They come back as the new backbone band for their record label (following the departure of Modest Mouse) and while they certainly do not disappoint on this CD, they regrettably do not inspire either. I know it's asking a lot of a band not only to go up to bat and get on base, but to knock one out of the park every time. The only thing is that there seemed to be such a creative jump musically from their first two major efforts (Salt Sinks and Sugar Floats LP, We're Solids EP) to Get Here and Stay that one would hope for that same feeling when listening to this album. Unfortunately (and at the same time thankfully) we're treated to your standard fare Pacific Northwest Indierock, which I am quite fond of. But just as John's vocals are as empathetic and emotive as they have ever been, the dreamy, nostalgia-laden quality of the band's previous album has been replaced with more of a rock-steady straightforward sound. There are some standout tracks here such as "Without Fire" and the title track, where upon first listen you can tell why 764-HERO is such a popular and acclaimed band. But in the long run, it's one of those albums that fans are going to have to grow to love (and we will), but if you're not already on board, it probably is not going to win you over. (jw)

Signal to Trust - Folklore (Modern Radio)

This Minneapolis quartet plays an off-kilter version of late 20th century indie post-punk shot through with an insistent energy. The band used to contain three quarters of a band called the Misfires, but since the departure of singer Brandon (I had the pleasure of witnessing this version of the band, Brandon hanging upside down from the pipes of a tiny basement), they now contain four quarters. That's 100%. This may not mean much to those unfamiliar with the Misfires (anyone on the coasts), but it is significant in that it took breaking up two versions of bands with the same people till they solidified into something they felt was right, sort of like remarrying your first wife. It's a heady concoction of somewhat rigid structural formality set upon with a keen melodic sense and tight musicianship. Vocalist/lyricist Brian Severns has a spoken-sung similarity to Chris Leo, even his nonsequitir subject matter sounds like the prodigal man-child of New Jersey. Thematically, Folklore matches its sonics with imagistic chaos, vignettes of loneliness, and creeping moments batted away with a guitar strum. Signal to Trust integrate the better parts of the indie-punk diaspora from the Dischord axis and wrap it in their frosty Midwestern grip. (gc)

Slumber Party - S/T (Kill Rock Stars)

It's not too often that I'm won over by a release on first listen. Slumber Party somehow manage to hook you with a pop sound that is familiar to the old pop soul of your past life/youth. I would never have guessed this all-female four-piece came from Detroit. Their music has the ambience of Galaxie 500 and Black Tambourine with a certain retro French/New Zealand pop sensibility. There is a clear simplicity to their approach, but you never feel the music's been dumbed down. One of the vocalists has a hardened Gina Birch-quality while the others are differing shades of sweet, but thankfully far from saccharine. These are women. It's feminine without being girly, airy without being fanciful. I don't think this is a band I would want to see live because there's something so fine about the space created on this recording that I don't think it would ever translate. It has a tensile fragility that gives it a timeless quality. Hmm, can you tell I liked this album? (yc)

Spiritualized - Let It Come Down (Arista)

Brothers and sisters, let me hear you say "Amen." Here we have the first Spiritualized studio album since their universally lauded 1997 album Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space. Where do you go after playing a highly acclaimed concert at the Royal Albert Hall? Well, why not make an album utilizing a 96-piece orchestra, as well as a 14-member gospel choir on some tracks? On this new album they alternate between the familiar Spiritualized numbers that rely on slowly repeated chord progressions, organs and orchestral swells (namely "Don't Just Do Something" and "Anything More"), and the occasional rock and roll song that sounds like it was recorded by a UK garage band in 1970 (see "On Fire" and "The Twelve Steps"). At other times it sounds like good ol' fashioned gospel music (especially the tellingly named "Won't Get To Heaven (The State I'm In)"). Of special note, "Lord Can You Hear Me?" is a re-worked version an old Spaceman 3 song featuring Mimi Parker from Low. All in all, I think the lord is indeed listening. (jh)

Summer Hymns - Voice Brother and Sister (Misra)

Another day, another Elephant 6 band puts out a cd. You can't say E6 bands aren't prolific, although it may seem like they are trying to create a continuing sound of '60s psycidelia with no end in sight. Bands like Apples in Stereo can create songs that sound so much like the Beatles, you wish Yoko would break them up. But where Apples in Stereo start their albums off with a bang and slowly fade into less than catchy songs towards the end of their albums, Summer Hymns create a continuum of wonderfully catchy songs that never tire or trail off into the lower part of the E6 spectrum. Summer Hymns spin a blend of Brian Wilson melody with Olvia Tremor Control song structure, but with less clankyness and a more focused sound. Zachary Gresham's soothing, Flaming Lips-style vocals mesh perfectly with the band's eclectic pop sound. A must for Elephant 6 fans. (jc)

Sutekh - Fell (Orthlorng Musork)

Seth Joshua Horvitz has a sneaky liner note tucked away on Fell ?No thanks to Eric Clapton for stealing all my ideas.? Strange words from one of the names synonymous with West Coast minimal techno, a subgenre with little relation to Clapton. Still, Fell has an acoustic feel - identifiable sound sources get reprocessed and altered, but retain a cohesion, an almost physical presence. The record's artwork illustrates this play between the raw and the treated, a photo-shopped collage of minute images of an Indian hand drum fanned out to a rosy mosaic.
?Slow Toy Medley? mixes the churn of a cranky metal box with accordion drones that flatten into pure tones. Pretty electric piano, drums, and vibes on ?Privacy? feel like surprises in this context. ?Fire Weather? is closer to the tradition of electronics with its insistent beat, hiccupping samples, and inverted high hat hits sucked in like desperate breaths. The sense of experimentation might overwhelm the actual enjoyment of music pieced out of missing parts, but here the mystery and the clues work in tandem. (gc)

Sybris -self-titled (Flameshovel)

Opening with strains of audio collage, the music parlayed by Chicago’s Sybris settles into a familiar groove, one that could be interpreted as a rut. Your take on this may depend on your taste for singer Angela Mullenhour. Her voice, at times whisp-y and reminiscent of a Britpop chanteuse, has hints of a Karen O snarl, the thing that makes this quartet buzz with some unknown quality. I kind of want to hate it because of how slick it feels, but slickness doesn’t always equate heartlessness. Songs like “You’re Only Confident in Your Insecurities” veer dangerously into WB teensploitation soundtrack territory, but there are guilty pleasures to be derived from both forms. The lyrics tend toward that poet-diary style; “grow up girl, change…we are young hearts and we are beating, we are young bloods and we are bleeding,” sounds somehow appropriate coming out of a 22-year-old. If the idea of CocoRosie fronting a shoegaze band appeals to you, tracks like “Blame it on the Baseball” will do the trick. Mike Lust’s production gives everything an appropriately arena-esque presence, reverbed to hell on tracks like “Hobo Detail Shop.” “Neon” is a dead giveaway for their ‘90s fetish – it sounds like a long-lost Pixies song, down to the last wail and whimper. There’s not an obvious single here, as the songs tend to veer toward mid-tempo, but there’s a sense of ambition or reach that is somewhat admirable. It’s a little played out, but so are most feel-good stories, and they’re at least as imaginative as the populace of the alt-establishment. I’m not swallowing the Kool-Aid, but I’ll happily pass the pitcher along.(gc)

Theoretical Girls - Theoretical Record (Acute)

The timing of this record could not be better. An unheralded New York no wave band is a hot commodity these days, even when the songs in question were recorded twenty years ago. Odds are, however, that if the Theoretical Girls had released more than one 7" back in its heyday, they would be about as well-known as Ut. Not to sound cynical, I was actually as excited as anyone to hear these unreleased tracks penned by Jeffrey Lohn. The only TG material not included on this disc appear on Glenn Branca?s collection ?77-?79 (Atavistic). The ownership issue is not as big a deal as the Tony Conrad/LaMonte Young fiasco, and Acute's next release is Branca's Ascension. That might be because Theoretical Girls were a work in progress. It?s arguable whether their influence factored into the churning art core of Mission of Burma, or if Lohn?s disaffected deadpan vocals were copped by Thurston Moore, but if you dig that style you'll enjoy their take on it. Wharton Tiers' insistent toms and Margaret Dewys? jabbing keyboard add to the fray on songs like ?Computer Dating? or ?Chicita Bonita,? and you get a sense of that flawed moment in a way that the retro-movement cannot rekindle. (gc)

Thingy - To The Innocent (Absolutely Kosher)

Awesome! Thingy sits on top of the indie pop thing. While today's pop bands either fetish the past or smack of mediocrity (sometimes simultaneously), Thingy does neither. The Heavy Vegetable veterans produce fresh, polished gems of harmonious upbeat and mostly high octane guitar-driven pop. Thingy meticulously crafts a fine piece of work, but seems to effortlessly toss these songs from the speakers. The sequence of 19 tracks doesn't get stale and never meanders aimlessly, as though even the often-mundane song topics are pertinent. (sb)

31 Knots - Climax/AntiClimax (self-released)

31 Knots from Portland wish to be known as more than just another trend-following math rock band. For that I give them credit, but on their album Climax/AntiClimax, the band does little to persuade one otherwise. With songs sprawled all over the place like an overturned dinner cart, it's difficult to get a handle on what you are listening to at times. And once you lose WHAT you are listening to, you begin to wonder WHY you are listening to it. Aside from the obvious indie, slightly fuzzed guitars and complex rhythms, I found myself wondering if I actually heard what I thought I heard... Is that the funk?? Seriously, I think it is!! At times it seems that 31 Knots like to break their avant-stride to bust out some funkadelic grooves. It seemed a little strange, a little out of place, but at the same time a happy diversion from what begins to become one song blending into another. But 31 Knots do have some shining moments in which the passion and heart they wish to exhibit come forth. For a few standout songs like "Exponential Glitch" and "Kowtow to Rock and Roll," 31 Knots find a nice medium between the over-intricate flailings and standard rock and make music worth listening to and enjoying. Their musicianship is obvious--these guys can play, but sometimes being able to play everything doesn't mean you should. (jw)

Various - American Breakbeat - Electronic Music from USA and Canada 2xCD (Klangkrieg)

Sifting through the filler (negative) and paying $13.95 for a double CD (postive) cancelled each other out, in a sense, leaving me with one CD-worth of content that made this compilation a worthwhile purchase. The comp title is somewhat misleading, as you'll find no DJ Icey or Chemical Brothers trash on these discs, only a broad cross-section of leftfield electronic music from North America. Artists making an appearance include Solenoid (Suction), Marumari, Blitter and Hrvatski (RKK), Phthalocyanine (Dmitri of Phthalo Records), Slicker (Hefty), Jake Mandell (Force, Inc.) and Timeblind (great EPs on Drop Beat and Kit Clayton's Orthlorng Musork imprint).
It seems some of the artists deliberately toyed with genre upon knowing the title of the compilation--even with regard to song titles, like Kid 606's "Unamerican Breakbeat." Lesser's "Simple" conjured up a hard disk choking on soundfiles extracted from the Drag City back catalog, albeit with a sense of humor. Kit Clayton's reggae-techno "Impetigo," Matmos' upbeat "Count Tweakula," and "K.O.D." by Rook Vallade (also recording as O.S.T. and one half of The Church Steps) are definitely high points from where I'm listening. (mt)

Various - Clit Stop (Swezlex)

San Francisco noise and art space the Clit Stop has hosted improvisers and free jazz acts from around the world. This CD compilation has a flow to it and the fidelity is low enough to blend, but there are some familiar names that stand out. Tracks from Deerhoof, the Lowdown, Casiotone for the Painfully Alone and the Lo Fi Neisans offer some semblance of pop while the more out-there material offered by Zeek Sheck, Kit Clayton, Nautical Almanac, Rubber O Cement and No Neck Blues Band get to the heart of the Clit Stop experiment. Providing a space for all these ideas and performers to bounce off (and into) each other in addition to documenting an indigenous scene, the Clit Stop recalls the spirit of New York's No Wave era and shares psychic turf with labels such as Skin Graft, Westside Audio Labs, and Bulb. (gc)

Various - Colonel Jeffrey Pumpernickel (Off)

Here's the concept: Write A Story. Split it into 16 parts. Give a part to some of the biggest names in indie rock for their unique interpretation! The outcome--sheer genius. Well, at least that's the concept. But sometimes plans don't always come out the way we conceptualize and in this case, it's only half-realized. Due to the amazing amounts of indie rock elite superstars like Guided By Voices, Grandaddy, Quasi, Stephen Malkmus, Sentridoh and more (most of whom I have something by in my own collection), I certainly won't be the only one saying that this album is more comp than concept. This album has everything going for it from the musicians to the liner notes to the artwork (featuring a variety of artists including Adrian Tomine), but somehow I can't enjoy listening to this piece as a whole, the way a real concept album is meant to be listened to. There are some great tracks on C.J.P.--a rocker opening/reprise track from Pollard and pals that sounds as if it came from his vault of good tracks (for vault of bad track see Isolation Drills). Ann Magnuson and Dave Rick turn in a compelling tune of half spoken word/half melodic sweetness all over droning driving haze and wistful lead guitar on the album's longest track, "Dr. Mom." Black Heart Procession bleeds beautiful on "One Hand Tore the Side." I could go on with the list of standouts as there are just too many great bands on this one CD. But the styles are so varied (in a good way) that each song seems to stand on its own, not as a piece of a greater whole. This album is best enjoyed skipping around to all of the best songs, leaving the inevitable dud in the dust (and this CD has a few of them). But when the words "A Concept Album" are on the cover, you go into it looking, seeking for it. I missed it. I'm probably stupid. (jw)

Various - Down to the Promised Land: 5 Years of Bloodshot Records (Bloodshot)

Chicago's Bloodshot label is a home to the loosely defined genre insurgent/alt.country/cowpunk/etc. I'm intrigued by the label not only because I've come to appreciate country roots influence, but the roster and philosophy of the label reconciles with the indie snob in me--bands like Old 97s and Whiskeytown sit side-by-side with lesser known bands of bumpkins and punks alike. That's why I'm thankful for this 2 CD compilation; it makes a great and entertaining introduction to the label. Maybe I'm too new to this genre to discern good from bad, but all 40 tracks gave me a big ole grin as I listened to what was thrown at me, running the gamut from really rollickin' no depression to straight-up bluegrass and roots. There's some familiar territory in Giant Sand, Ryan Adams, Jon Langford and Old 97's, but I'm happy that most was new to me, and even happier that it's instantly likable to fans of those bands (I could name the tracks I enjoyed but the list is too long). While I don't care to hear more of every band here, as far as compilations go everything fits, and I found some bands I'm definitely going to check out (the Blacks, Alejandro Escovedo, Red Star Belgrade). It makes me realize that country can be as punk as, well, punk. (sb)

Various - History of Portland Punk Volume One (Zeno)

Greg Sage compiled these out-of-print punk obscurities from 1979 through 1983, documenting Portland's punk scene of the time. The singles from Trap Records were produced by Sage and include the Neoboys, Stiphnoids, Sado-Nation, and his own band the Wipers. The Wipers material here is great, with songs like "No Solution" coming off like Love answering Pere Ubu. As a recent Wipers convert, they were the comp's selling point, but I was surprised to find some other nuggets herein. It's impressive how often women were leading these groups (there are female vocals on the Neoboys, Sado-Nation, and Lotek tracks), correcting a historical oversight in the genre. Neoboys offer garage-y party music, sort of like a jangly Avengers--the Penelope Houston comparison comes across most on songs like "Give me the Message." Sado-Nation's "Mom & Pop Democracy" alone is worth the price of admission, a catchy sing-along with buzzsaw guitars and a Kim Wilde-gone-bad chorus you could not get away with today: "in America we're supposed to be free." Like the questionable Avengers reunion a few years back, it is with a mixture of excitement and dread that I find online evidence of the band playing shows this year, well into their forties. If the rest of the Sado-Nation material is as good as these songs, it'd be worth the possible embarrassment of nostalgia punking to see these songs performed live. The last half is a live album, 10-29-79, which includes noteworthy performances from Lotek, the Wipers, and a noisy, loop-driven set from Smegma. (gc)

Various - Lights on a Darkening Shore (Shinkansen)

I never was too avid a British pop fan, not because it isn't good, but because I just never got around to following the whole thing and looking for imports and whatnot. I did know Shinkansen was one of the latter-day well-known labels and knew it was home to Trembling Blue Stars, so I took this comp as an opportunity to get to know more. First off, I have to compliment Matt on the great packaging and the personal context he gives for the photographs. The guy is clearly passionate about the music he puts out and it makes you want to believe in it the same way. In the end though, only two of the seven bands on the comp made a great impression on me. I wrote down track numbers of songs I really liked, and they all turned out to be Trembling Blue Stars or Monograph. TBS make great heart-broken pop songs and Monograph are almost more akin to indie rock. I thought Harvey Williams was good but awfully cheesy and Cody was so-so. I did not like Tompot Blenny at all. Anyhow, while I'm not sold on most of the Shinkansen stable represented here, I think this sampler is worth getting just for TBS and Monograph if you're a Shinkansen neophyte. If you're already familiar, you probably had your own opinion long before you read this.(yc)

Various - Wäntage USA’s Hits Omnibus (Wäntage USA)

Celebrating ten years and 21 releases on Wäntage USA, calling this double disc “Hits Omnibus” is just the sort of overreach that sums up Josh Vanek’s Munchausen-esque regard for his roster. Vanek is like an Alan Lomax of the millennial rock underground unearthing nuggets from the Pacific Northwest, his home base of Missoula, and such far-flung locales as Baltimore and Latvia. The meat and potatoes of the label is meat-and-potatoes-rock, with contributions here from heavy hitters like Jonny X and the Groadies, Oneida, and Fucking Champs fulfilling expectations and pumping devil-horns. The standouts come from bands heretofore unheard: DC’s Touhy conjure the spastic danceability that Melt-Banana seems to have lost, and “His Cold Heart” by Juanita Family and Friends is a surprisingly affecting country tune. The Narrows and Early Humans remind me of the best soft/loud indie bands of my misspent youth. Vanek’s Latvian Peace Corps stint also lead to inclusion of folky pop like Balozu Pilni Pagalmi and Enu Kabinets, a sprinkle of much needed melodic garnish amidst the guitar chug. (gc)

Vaz - The Lie That Matches the Furniture (Narnack)

I never really got into any of the Amrep bands. I did enjoy lowecase live and thought Hammerhead was different from the bands on that label (2/3's of Hammerhead became Vaz). I have been hearing stuff about the Vaz since about '97. I honestly never really cared to venture out from what I was listening to at that time. Before I got this record, I heard a song off of the compilation "If the 21st Century didn't Exist, it Would be Necessary to Invent it" on 5rc. That track is titled "White World of Death." When I first heard it I didn't like it and turned it off midway through. I picked it back up the next day and it was great. It was a relief to hear something like this as opposed to the small town rock I deal with on a daily basis. I got this album and did not connect with it right away but I figured out why. I was waiting for something to happen in the record. I later then realized that this CD is the equivalent of the calm before the storm. The storm never hits but there is a constant drag and unsettling feeling of what might happen and for once I really liked that. The change in "Owlmen" sounds like someone walking on broken stilts if that could even be possible. Remember playing the game lava? Or sharks? You couldn't touch the sand or the gravel and you had to stay up on the monkey bars or even worse, get stuck hanging on that fire man pole koala style? Thats this album. Something terrible could happen but you never will know. You can't see your feet. It's the new jaws terror sound. (jb)

Volante - 45° North (Guilt Ridden Pop)

Well-executed rock that would appeal to fans of the Braid/Cap'n Jazz cluster of Midwest emo. Volante traffic in pretty melodic guitar riffs that owe more to the Dischord school than any influences found in its native Minneapolis. Perhaps the fact that they recorded with J Robbins contributes to that impression, but clean sung/spoken vocal stylings show minimal strain against sturdy drumming and catchy guitar playing. This type of punk-pop has taken more interest in production recently than in the past--I notice a lot of younger bands blowing money to work with known producers, and it's oftentimes unnecessary. It seems too obvious for a young band to record with a producer who already approximates bands that they sound like. Not to detract from the efforts here, but for Volante to really develop their own sound they need to "think outside the box" a little more. (gc)

M. Ward - Duet For Guitars #2 (Ow Om)

This album is the first non-Giant Sand album to be released on Howe Gelb's label, Ow Om. I saw Matt Ward play in San Jose last year, on tour with his mentor Mr. Gelb, and the music seemed very American, with the influence of roots rock and folk (think similar to Palace or, um, Giant Sand). But on the album, things get a bit poppier. The first time I heard "Scene from #12," I put it on repeat and I'm still not sick of it. It's about living next to a dying neighbor and experiencing through thin apartment walls his decaying health. It's not the only song alluding to death; somehow the catchiest tunes are subversively depressing in nature. Listening to the album, I noticed something I didn't from the show: Matt's vocal inflections sound much like Neil Young, and if you add some electric guitar, a bit of Crazy Horse emerges from the crunch. This voice works so well in the setting of the music, it's hard to imagine it any other way. Grandaddy's version of "Fishing Boat Song" on a recent Devil in the Woods split 7" is one of those covers that just might make you seek out the originator. Lucky for me, I already had a copy of Duet for Guitars #2 on hand. (sb)

Wizardzz - Hidden City of Taurmond (Load)

I think this what the soundtrack for Knight Rider would sound like if it were done by Friends Forever. Duo drums and synth. It travels from really simple three note synth rock to free jazz sounding, sometimes ambient, to insanely frantic, all with a Kraftwerk feel to it and some prog rock thrown in for good measure. It features Brian Gibson of Lightning Bolt and Rich Porter of Bug Sized mind (I have no idea what that is), but as the press release reads, nothing like Lightning Bolt. There are no vocals as far as I can tell unless they are so distorted and hidden as not to be heard by the human ear. It sounds like it would be on any soundtrack to any early 80’s B movie and/or bad TV action drama. I think it would be really fun to see live and quite entertaining depending on their energy. Some of it really reminds me of Neil Young’s attempt at synth rock, what was that album called? Yes, Trans. When he was trying his best to alienate his audience and get dropped from Geffen records. Which subsequently worked. I think the way they describe it does better than anything I could write; tangerine soaked creamsicle, dream pillow padded melodica. I think I would shoot myself in the foot if I ever had to describe something like that. (af)

Last updated February 17, 2008. [ edit this page ]

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