Current listens include Sparklehorse, Lambchop, Rachel's, Henry's Dress, Roy Montgomery, the Magnetic Fields, and Bay.
El patron: GEOCITIES
Free to Fight
compilation (Candyass)
The members of Team Dresch make no effort to hide the fact that they are a queer punk band. The four women, all former members of other D.I.Y. Pacific Northwest bands such as Dangermouse and Adickdid, have come together to release an excellent album, Personal Best, on their own labels, featuring songs with very personal lyrics about love, doubt, and anger. However, Team Dresch do more than toot their own horn; their beliefs in the empowerment of "women, children, queers, people of color, and target communities" are featured at every show with a self-defense demonstration.
Now, they have even released an "interactive self-defense project" called Free to Fight, which is an informative booklet and CD designed to dispel myths about rape, share testimonials about self-defense experiences from women met while touring, and offer encouragement to straight and queer women that they are "free to fight" back, even though society dictates that they should not. The booklet is crammed with facts about rape and domestic violence, and tips about verbal and physical protective measures, plus a good dose of motivational writing about girl power.
The CD features songs by Team Dresch, Excuse 17, Nikki McClure, Lois, Fifth Column and others, interspersed with dialogue and self-defense instructions. The women declare in the booklet that they are planning to embark on a tour "starting this spring and never ending" in order to get their message out.
When Team Dresch performed at the Living Room in November, they were completely earnest and honest about what they were trying to accomplish; in the introduction in the booklet, it is noted that playing music is one way to express "the power to create and those creations are a force field against all the other shit in the world", and the tour is the way to spread the message.
Free to Fight is "intended for use by women and girls only", which may turn off some well-meaning men from supporting this project, but it's easy to understand the women-only perspective that is advocated as you read the booklet and see all of the hurt, anger, and confusion expressed in the poetry, comics, and short stories that have been contributed. Profits from the sale of Free to Fight go to teach self-defense classes and to fund the self-defense/rock tour of girl-dominated bands.
Seam
Are You Driving Me Crazy? (Touch & Go)
It sounds like Sooyoung Park, leader of the Chicago band Seam, is walking around with a light heart these days. On their third full-length, Are You Driving Me Crazy?, Seam sound cleaner and tighter and, well, happier than on their previous albums: meet Seam, the 1995 sonic pop machine. On closer inspection, however, Park's lyrics are as representative as ever of the prototypical naked-soul-baring, nail-biting, and admirably honest nice guy who always gets dumped. This ain't no cuddlecore-- muddlecore is more like it.
Seam's moody rock should appeal to fans of emo bands who are looking for a more polished sound and change of pace, as well as those interested in slow rock bands, such as Codeine and Bedhead. Somehow, lyrics as simple as "I wanted you\ to show some feeling...I needed you\ to twist my arm" can take on grave importance and attraction to both camps, especially when coupled with exceptional music.
Seam's performance during the "Ear of the Dragon" tour, featuring other bands with Asian-American members, dispels any worries one might have on listening to the album that they are just a nicely produced, steady and predictable rock band. Live, these boys are noisy but never quite dissolve into chaos, holding their songs a step away from cacophony.
Dynamics play an important part in each song, whether the shifts are from loud to soft or fast to slow. During shows, the band tends to shift into opposites from how the music is presented on the album-- slow songs are fast and noisy, whispered lyrics are sung with heart-wrenching pathos -- thereby providing a unique experience of familiar and yet brand-new melodies at the same time.
Another Seam tour should be rolling through in the late summer or early fall; in the meantime, sell back those CD's you can't stand due to radio overkill and check out some thoroughly nice guy rock.
Tribute to a Bus
18th dye
(Matador)
The latest 18th dye album is pure elation-- neon stripes the color of melon liqueur accenting deep cherry wood, bright brass rings through the noses of secretly smiling gargoyles, surgical precision disguised as intricately wrapped trinkets from Japan. What I am trying to say is that 18th dye has lost the hesitancy and nice manners seen on other efforts Crayon and Done. They have gone 21st century, crispy and noisy courtesy of Steve Albini, superstructured and slim like the skeletons of skyscrapers courtesy of themselves...
Drugstore
S/T (Go! Discs/Polygram)
I will tell you what you want to know: this is a perfectly nice album made by perfectly nice people. You also want to know that certain British music papers are lauding it as "album of the year". To which I say: bollocks. But, it's still a very nice album...
There are 14 songs on this debut album, which is chock-full of melody and skree and dreamy lyrics that encourage you to float up into the atmosphere and leisurely tour about on your Etherail pass, to check out the sites and fall in love with an alien. Two men and a woman make noise, louder than your average cafe-electric-folk music but less aggressive than
What will no doubt make it or break it for you will be the voice of bassist Isabel Monteiro. Quavery and warm, it resembles Hope Sandoval's but Monteiro evokes crayons and pixie dust instead of candle and tarot cards. Immediate references for Drugstore include the Jesus and Mary Chain and Mazzy Star; it is in the high-altitude guitar jangle of "Starcrossed" and in the wistful lyrics of "Nectarine". The production is slick and shiny, courtesy of Keith Cleversly, studio guru of Mercury Rev and the Flaming Lips.
I think that this album could have benefited by losing a few of the songs, especially "Gravity" and "Accelerate", which seem short and irrelevant in comparison to the ambitious sound found in songs like "Fader" and "Station 12". Even though there seems to be a formula to the songs I like best- slow and quiet to fast and noisy and back again- this is a very solid first album. I would guess that during live performances, Drugstore would pull out all the stops. After all, a band that covers "She Don't Use Jelly", the Lips song you love to hate, probably has more tricks up its sleeve. I also think that bringing up the male background vocals, or even giving one of the poor boys a lead vocal of his own, might break the monotony of Monteiro's voice, which I admit I am still getting used to.
Drugstore has made a friendly album, waiting to be discovered here in the States. Their music is the beautiful and dreamy sort that would be found in a film where introspective guys and gals ride around all night in GTO convertibles, smoking cigarettes and acting sullen, only to watch the sun rise in the desert, flowers bloom and inner peace is achieved, blah blah blah...
Butterglory
Crumble (Merge)
Did you enjoy Pavement until they started playing that song on MTV? Like listening to Lou Barlow but hate the Monkees adoration that follows every live show? Tired of music so luxuriantly "lo-fi" that you have to buy a crappy old tape deck and stick your speakers in the bathroom just to experience it properly? Well, well, well...Butterglory is here for you with their first full-length release. Yeah, they've done the 7" thing, they've appeared on obscure compilations, they've paid their indie dues. But now, you can listen to them on a CD if you like, and it's OK, I won't tell anyone.
Butterglory is like the stone dropped in a still pond; it sends out gentle ripples until everyone has felt it wash over them. Aaaah...so nice. They know that the way to make a stir isn't to throw the damned rock in the pool, and it isn't to slip one in so gently that you can't tell if anything has happened.
They have their music out on Merge Records, a respectable label that also features Superchunk, Polvo, Rocket From the Crypt and other earnest-boy rock. The lyrics are skewed but not cryptic, the booklet art is silly but not altogether stupid. They aren't staging a comeback or returning to their roots or making a sociopolitical statement. By eliminating all the pompous rock star (or anti-rock star) attitudes from their heads, the folks in Butterglory have managed to bring you a sumptuous feast that tastes great and is less filling. Butterglory is the Mama Bear of indie rock-- everything they do is just right.
Crumble consists of 15 short but memorable songs. The production is clear but not shiny and overproduced; I can imagine gals with kiddie barrettes in their hair and guys with, well, kiddie barrettes in their hair, all executing some vicious pogo/disco moves to the beat. "Jinxed" and "Waiting on the Guns" and "The Skills of the Star Pilot" are particularly nice, and there is about a 70/30 ratio of songs sung by Matt and those sung by Debby. These two kids from Visalia deserve your attention so go on and give them a listen.
Ask A.S. Program Board to bring them to play in Storke Plaza (they will be at Jabberjaw in L.A. on December 4 with Kicking Giant, and in S.L.O. on the 10th with Silkworm, but where they will be on the 6th and 7th is up in the air). Request to hear them on KCSB. Or, if you're perverse, call KJEE and force them to buy Crumble and expand their music horizons.
Hey Drag City! and Wakefield (Teenbeat)
There are hundreds of compilation albums released every year: some feature tacky rejects which should never have been recorded, a few consist of out-of-print singles and other rarities, and many highlight unknown bands hoping for stardom.
The two samplers that have the best mix of music that veers far from the mainstream are label compilations-- you get noisy hybrid rock from Hey Drag City, and kitschy pop from Wakefield, a TeenBeat sampler. These very different labels have one thing in common: they both feature bands with a generous sense of humor, with which they are surviving in the shadow of the major music conglomerates quite nicely, thank you.
Drag City has quietly built a solid reputation on the basis of their currently signed bands and ones that have gone on to major record deals. The most famous of these on the Hey Drag City compilation might be Pavement, but acts like Red Red Meat and Royal Trux enjoy some notoriety as well. The tracks by these bands are not throwaways at all, and are good introductions to the distinctive sounds they produce. Royal Trux' "delta 70 of hearts" blasts us with untuned cheap guitars and the honey-over-tarpaper vocals of Neil and Jennifer singing a duet in different keys, or zip codes, possibly. Red Red Meat's slightly countrified "Make You Gone" swaggers and sneers like Jon Bon Jovi always wished he could. Pavement gives us "Nail Clinic", catchy as usual but not quite as inane as their last hit single.
Other highlights include the Palace Brothers' "For the Mekons et al", recorded no doubt while the boys were partaking in a little moonshine. Also, "Ike" by Fruitcake could have been a Jefferson Airplane song if Prozac was the drug of choice in the 60's. "Your Face" by Smog, which is Bill Callahan's heartfelt tribute to the female orgasm, definitely provides the funniest moment on this compilation.
For unabashedly swanky pop stylings, Wakefield is the way to go. We are told not to pay more than six dollars for the CD, stuffed with 17 songs that delve into TeenBeat's obscure past and the very latest offerings. Notables on this compilation, the first volume of a planned 4-volume TeenBeat retrospective, include Vomit Launch, Blast Off Country Style, Versus, Gastr Del Sol, the up-and-coming Tuscadero, and Eggs. Air Miami, the band born out of the ashes of Unrest, showcase "Fight Song", and Grenadine, which is made of one band member each from Eggs, Air Miami, and Tsunami, makes us tap our feet and sigh longingly with a cover of the cheesy Bacharach song, "This Girl's In Love with You".
Songs which I can't get out of my head include Cobalt's "Sea Nine", "Mrs. N" by Bells Of, and the loud and out of tune Butch Willis singing "The Girl's On My Mind". For that authentic trailer-park, boozing in a bowling alley lounge feeling, Wakefield will satisfy.
Helium
The Dirt of Luck
(Matador)
Matador Records seems to be having a lucky streak lately: new releases by Come, Bettie Serveert, Jon Spencer Blues Explosion and Pavement are lionized by critics and fans alike, bands from other countries such as 18th dye and Pizzicato Five are doing well in the states, and basically, Matador bands are the current darlings of the "indie" scene.
Helium, a Massachusetts band led by Mary Timony, have been with Matador since their 1993 EP release, Pirate Prude. Their latest album (and first full-length effort), The Dirt of Luck, is a fine addition to the Matador stable. You may not hear them on your run-of-the-mill commercial radio stations (like most of the bands mentioned above) but your Hipster Quotient will double if you buy this album, I guarantee it.
The album features a new line-up and a new attitude from Timony. Obviously very much in creative control of the band, she experiments with organs, keyboards, and lots of "drone guitar" in an attempt to flesh out the sounds that can be made by a three-piece. Less is not more for Helium, who seem as happy as tots in a treat shop when they were in the studio.
Pretty, noisy, and thrilling describe most of the songs on The Dirt of Luck; vicious music is tempered by Timony's good-little-bad-girl voice, or else the melody is soft and sweet while she spits venom at the listener.
"Skeleton" and "Baby's Going Underground" rawk out, while "Superball" and "Medusa" are examples of sassy humor, lyrically and musically. "Honeycomb" even has the oh-so-popular country twinge to it, bringing wistful sentiment to a song about someone "slower than Valium".
While The Dirt of Luck lacks the obvious theme that the EP had, it is still tied together by images and phrases such as Trixie, rubies, pirates, angels, and beauty. The mystery of how Timony associates these things in her mind is part of the appeal, and leads one to believe that she is one smart, scary woman.
Jack O'Fire
The Destruction of Squaresville (Estrus)
And you thought you were cool. Guess who's coming over to your house? Tim Kerr and his merry crew of punk luminaries are here to break your dishes and leer at your women. And they've brought the distilled essence of legendary bluemen to help them mess you up. Are you ready?
There is disenchantment with the music scene today. A sort of anti-grunge backlash is leading to some pretty interesting sounds. While those in Europe and the U.K. are plowing ahead with bold experimental music, Americans are returning to their roots, modifying here and supercharging there. The result: a fat, chrome-wrapped beast, wickedly purring and ready to blow you away. Do you need some down n' dirty blues to wipe that dopey expression off your face? Well, here it is: Jack O' Fire is the blues powered by a punk-nitro infusion-- true Americana. You are now encouraged to sneer at Jon Spencer's spastic, stripped-down sound, when you are presented with the full blast of the slide guitar, the Hammond organ, and the wailing harmonica.
The Destruction of Squaresville is being billed as "educational tools for the oncoming overthrow." It gathers up Jack O' Fire's various 7" singles and a 6-song EP to let you experience more danger and attitude than this sleepy, cheery town can muster up in a year. It will kick your butt into gear like no breakfast cereal can, and toughen up your blues sensibilities--we don't get sexy moans and lyrics full of longing here. Jack O' Fire manages to make even a cover of the Joy Division's "No Love Lost" sound screeching and soulful with the runaway freight-train attack of harmonica and organ crashing through. Standouts include a loping cover of "7th Son" by Willie Dixon and a furious version of "Boss Hoss" by the Sonics.
Put this record on when the moon is full and the number of strange occurences, violence and insanity is high. Ease up the volume until the neighbors wonder what foul happenings are occurring in you basement. Imagine the sweet hysteria if everyone knew about Jack O' Fire...
Jale
Dream Cake (Sub Pop)
This is good summer music, as absurdly lovely as the title suggests. The music would hover above the asphalt and shimmer, if it were a puff of air. It would cool and refresh you if it were a missile pop. Flirtatious but innocent at the same time, it would break your heart if you let it.
Dream Cake is the first album by four women from Nova Scotia, and features 12 short and sweet songs, some of which have been previously released as singles on Cinnamon Toast Records, and on Sub Pop, who knew a good thing when they heard it and quickly signed them on.
The main attraction for me are the vocals. All four women harmonize over impeccable pop songwriting like the best 50's girl groups, especially on "3 Days". Usually I despise bands with female singers because the sound is too pleasant, but the total result is so beautiful that I can't complain. They also play their instruments very well, not subscribing to simplistic melodies and arrangement cherished by homespun groups such as Heavens To Betsy or Bratmobile. They do not believe in the "less is more" philosophy; the production is rich and clean, yet the scratchiness of the guitar comes through just enough to add warmth to the sound.
"River" is a beautiful song, featuring soaring slide guitar and a spooky, otherworldly chorus. "Not Happy" opens the album with a burst of noise and energy reminicent of Nirvana, and Jale prove they are not afraid to experiment with distorted vocals or precise washes of feedback. However, the overall impression is elegantly loud, hard pop. Other favorites include "To Be Your Friend" and "Mend", which grooves like a long-lost Pixies tune.
Jesus and Mary Chain
Stoned and Dethroned (American)
Starting with the very title of this long-awaited studio album, everything about "the Chain's sound" is surprising. No longer are the Reid brothers bitterly wringing out lyrics of girls who done them wrong and not wanting to get up in the morning. No longer are they lobbing time-delayed melodies at our heads, hidden by thick and animated guitars. Have they indeed softened up? Maybe the fact that Jim Reid is seeing Hope Sandoval of Mazzy Star has something to do with it...
It's true that this album is vastly different than the ice bath therapy of Psychocandy. But then again, the Chain has tried something different with each album, revealing delight in poignant acoustic numbers, electrified blues, unrepentant pop and even dance music, for God's sake. It is this willingness to experiment and not complacently accept the critics' label-of-the-month that makes the Jesus and Mary Chain worthwhile to turn to.
Rumors flew in the past that this was to be an all-acoustic album, but it seems they just couldn't keep a good thing down. Stoned and Dethroned is an album of campfire songs at a Buddhist retreat. Jim and William still sound resigned to fate, but in a serene and content manner. The songs ring with the bittersweet acceptance of life that age and wisdom brings; some, like "Bullet Lovers", even echo harmonies copped from the saddest Beach Boys albums heard as the sun sinks into the ocean. "Look out world 'cause we know how to fight/ Someone's gonna get shot tonight" is crooned in a wistful chorus, and the song trails off with "Hey, it's OK I will never go away/ Hey, it's alright when the day turns into night", a perfectly prophetic summation of the Jesus and Mary Chain philosophy. "Wish I Could" predicts "If we had the love/ We could leave this world behind" as a tambourine slowly crashes and becomes still.
There are plenty of references to "she", the perfect love you will never possess, like most Jesus and Mary albums, but there is also quite an emphasis on God and salvation. Stoned and Dethroned seems to be a perfect culmination of physicality and spirituality that the Jesus and Mary Chain have been looking for all these years. The band has never been one to rely on technical histrionics, and by turning down the volume, we are made to focus on the songwriting and composition.
The single out now, "Sometimes Always", a duet with Hope Sandoval, is a bit too precious for my taste, but "Dirty Water", "Come On", and "She" are solid songs with intriguing lyrics and a nice display of acoustic, electric, 12-string, and slide guitar work.
Jon Spencer Blues Explosion
Orange
(Matador)
I shouldn't even have to write this review. The image of this band, like a familiar ideogram, should be ready and waiting in your mind-- blue smoke from skinny cigarettes obscuring everything but the frenetic, kinetic movements of a sea of brushed and pointy crepe-soled dancin' shoes. Every hip, young American should be instantly on their feet and cheering when they hear the phrase, Blues Explosion! Blues Explosion!
The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion is like the battle between good and evil. It perpetuates its own momentum, effortlessly. Giving yourself to the Blues Explosion is like kneeling in a puddle of someone else's sweat and declaring to the world, "I have seen the light!" More than a band, it is a dream of the past, once discarded and divided up for wholesale, reunited and rejuvenated by one Jon Spencer, leader and prophet of the Return of Soul.
The popularity of 70s retro is quite evident these days, but it can seem like a cheap, watered-down version of the fervent grooving of the decade before. Spencer appropriates the image and the energy and, like slipping on a shiny sharkskin jacket at the thrift store, it is good, and right, and magical. Mankind can walk tall once again.
There are thirteen songs on Orange, and they all fit neatly on half of a ninety-minute tape. This is (I think) the third official American release by the JSBE. It's hard to keep count as they have a tendency to be prolific, and spawn recordings all around the world like illigitimate children. In just a few years, the music has changed from short, almost experimental ramblings on the first, self-titled album, to a very tight three-piece with a stripped-down sound on Extra Width, to finally a glitzy and glorious, panoramic experience on Orange. A little organ, saxophone, even 70's violins make guest appearances on this album.
Duplicating their actions at live shows, the boys now shout "Blues Explosion!" throughout their songs on this record as well. You can't just sit passively and listen; you instinctively bob your head and shake your ass in a kind of stupifying trance, just like everyone else. This is dangerous music for dangerous times. Spencer's voice for some reason sounds like the Big Bopper (remember "Chantilly Lace?") but the guttural grunts, screams, other odd vocal twitches could only come from one genius, or one madman, born in the wrong time, it seems.
"Very Rare" is an insturmental appropriate for a B-movie soundtrack. "Dang" would be suitable when cruising across the country in a maroon gas-guzzler. My favorites so far would have to be "Cowboy" and "Flavor", though, for extreme craziness executed somehow with a straight face. Find out what your favorites are on October 26, when the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion plays with Clawhammer (!) at the Palace in Los Angeles. It promises to be an extravaganza of, dare I say, Elvissian proportions?
Sebadoh
4 Song CD (Domino)
Sebadoh kindly gives us an import-only taster for the forthcoming full-length album Bake Sale with the lyrically titled 4 Song CD. Actually, there are 10 songs on this disc, so the title is some sort of nerdy joke, but since it means more music for less money, I can forgive them. Of the 10 songs, there is the usual mix of Lou, Bob and Jason songs, plus Bob's interpretation of the Coltrane classic "Naima". Due to personal preference, this mix makes the album uneven in quality, but there are definite classics in the making.
"Rebound" is my favorite on this album so far; it is fast and energetic due to the bass and drums, but also completely enervating because of the one inanely catchy riff that Lou manages to sneak into many of his songs. The lyrics also put a smile on my face as they outline a dysfunctional love story. The other song all three band members contributed to, "Careful", also carries the melancholy but rockin' theme and sounds a bit like the Afghan Whigs somehow.
Bob's songs I traditionally have not been too fond of, perhaps because they seem mainly like weird, cut-and-paste affairs, but I thought his version of "Naima", with saxophone overlaid with electric organ and drums suitable for a velvet-wallpapered cocktail lounge, was pretty interesting.
Of Jason's works, I like "Lime Kiln" because of the rattles and pinging sounds, and the Slint-like "40203". Both of these, we are told, were recorded all by Jason's self on a 4-track. The two Lou-only songs, "Not A Friend" and "Mystery Man", are good but not as appealing as the songs by the full band, simply because I'm getting tired of the low-fi, 'angst about women' angle that is always being presented.
Perhaps Lou's songs remind me of how much of a humorous, Buddy Holly experience it was to watch a live show where young women were drooling over the poor guy, rather small and average, wanting to help him like a little boy lost. Then again, maybe I'm cranky because I haven't had my nap today. If you are a staunch Sebadoh fan or like their truly lo-fi stuff best, you must buy this CD. If you aren't a diehard, cross your fingers and wait for the full-length.
Silkworm
In The West (C/Z)
Melancholia and redemption for ex-punk rockers. That is the kind of music to be found on Silkworm's major label debut, In The West. Most of the members of the band are from Montana but have recently moved to Seattle, which has not harmed their sound in the least---they do not play grunge, whatever that means these days. Instead, they take your weary soul and stretch it tight, then beat the guilt and pain out of it until it is clean and nice again. I'm not kidding. Silkworm is an angry beast but always dances on the edge of control. It brought me out of some major spring-quarter-what-now depression and I feel I must testify on it's behalf-- it will scold you and save you at the same time.
The music owes some allegiance to Pavement but where Pavement retains a kind of atonal earthiness, Silkworm aspires toward angelic fragility, riding on puffy thunderclouds of noise. Their kind of neurotic, geeky rock arises from nervous euphoria brought on by evaluating the freaky little pictures flashing inside their skulls. The lyrics are shrieked, shouted, and piteously whispered; catch phrases and cliches such as "lyrical homicide" and "I'm such a chump, I feel lucky inside" are thrown around and stick in your brain. All-out rockers like "Into the Woods" and "Punch Drunk Five" are tempered by long, moody songs such as "Enough is Enough" and "Dremate" that bring Slint to mind.
Steve Albini produced this one, and whether you love him or hate him, you will have to admit that he does a good job of capturing the fury of what these angry, angry boys might sound like live. I think the drumming especially stands out but the songs are all carefully crafted and each instrument is given a chance to shine. The vocals could be brought up a bit but otherwise, this is a great album. When I first listened to this, I thought it was just okay until something clicked and suddenly, I had to hear it every day just to get out of bed and continue with the picayune details of life. I'm weaning myself off of it, but whenever I need to be teased out of a bad mood, Silkworm is there. Isn't that inspiring, folks?
Submarine
Kiss Me Till Your Ears Burn Off
(ultimate)
There is an interesting dichotomy created when trying to initially evaluate Submarine. The album cover and band photo, and the name of this English band itself, all suggest a techno or ambient sound. And then you throw the disc on...surprise! They sound like U.S. bands like Mercury Rev with smoother vocals. The Submarine philosophy is actually based on the Law of the Ecstatic Earache and the ethics of slow and sparkling distortion. The result is beautiful impending noise that asks you to accept the multitude of influences with a grain of salt.
Kiss Me Till Your Ears Burn Off is a compilation of singles recorded between September 92 and August 93; they also have a self-titled LP of all new material. The songs on Kiss Me... are arranged chronologically so you can detect the subtle changes as the band grew more and more confident. They even dare to cover a Galaxie 500 song, "Tugboat", without seeming pretentious because their version is fully as interesting as the original. The song starts out slow and reverent but then bursts out and frightens. It's as if a hungry man was nibbling at a salad and someone dropped a plate of baby back ribs in front of him. Suddenly, he is overwhelmed, overjoyed bordering on nauseous.
Submarine conjure up images of Galaxie 500 with a dizzying variety of brittle cymbal crashes and rock steady guitar interludes, modest but determined like the little rock band that could. They also have been paying loving attention to Swervedriver and Mercury Rev, and listening faithfully to their Ride albums for singing lessons. They incorporate elements of the shoegazer sound but with strong, fine guitar work that never threatens to melt into the 'wall of guitar' haze.
"Learning to Live with Ghosts" is like waking up slowly after a nice dream. "Salty Killer Whales" is more like being woken up by a phone call from your mom on Saturday morning. "Pollen" indeed twinkles with wind chimes, odd sqeaky flute noises, and electronic cows lowing as conventional instrumentation whirl above their heads. The best track on this compilation is a live version of "Jodie Foster", a lengthy jam that fails to mention Jodie Foster in any way.
Play this album for your friends and watch them scratch their heads as they try to figure out just which band it is.
The Geraldine Fibbers
Lost Somewhere Between the Earth and My Home
(Virgin)
I suppose that sooner or later, the country influence on indie rock will wear off, being part of a cycle of "roots" music such as blues, jazz, and funk that has been circulating through America. Then again, maybe it won't. The weary and romantic aspects of the genre, the acknowledgement that you listened to country as a child (and enjoyed it) because your parents did, the combination of corny pathos and dead-drunk seriousness...There is a definite appeal for those who are tired of macho rock stars and mosh pits, and those who avoid dance clubs to listen to music in one's own room, alone.
These elements all come together in a manner suited to both the cowboy dream of old, conducted under open skies, and the current crumbling one, situated in dilapidated urban alley-ways. What else could explain the popularity of the latest albums from Palace Music and Tarnation and Pavement and Wilco, which eschew musical clichés like WIllie Nelson in favor of Hank Williams or Patsy Cline? (Sorry, Willie.) Why else are the Geraldine Fibbers, a band from L.A. and not Nashville or Austin, so hot right now?
Well, they are noisy, play catchy songs and rock out, while still waving the tragic and glorious country music banner. The songs on Lost Somewhere Between the Earth and My Home are clothed in quirky lyrics and propelled by fast and furious music. We are serenaded by electric guitars as often as by violin or banjo, and are alternately comforted and punished by sound.
The driving force of the Fibbers is singer Carla Bozulich, whose tarred-and-feathered voice swoops from high and sweet to low and furious screaming. She write lyrics rooted in a standard country framework: "I'm drowned in sorrow/I'm drowned in scorn/I knew I'd end this way from the day I was born," (from "Outside of Town") as well as surreal fairy tales ("Dragon Lady"). "A Song About Walls" is a sassy song about empowerment in which a woman "loved her junkie boyfriend/asshole with an appetite" but eventually "left him in the dust and got even more fucked up/and she did it all by herself".
If there still exists a country bar, one that doesn't feature line dancing or big-screen sports, rough and tumble but not Blues Brothers-obnoxious, then the Geraldine Fibbers deserve to headline every night. The intensity of emotion will have you pounding the table and singing along to start and, eventually, crying in your drink.
Flying Saucer Attack
Flying Saucer Attack
(VHF)
Flying Saucer Attack's eponymous debut is, for the most part, 50 minutes of beautiful drone-rock. The music, deemed "rural psychedelia" by members of the group, creates the effect of lying directly under a slow-motion sonic waterfall. It will either encourage your synapses to quit their day jobs and head for the coast, or bore you to tears after the first 20 seconds.
Drony music is like that -- it generally lacks dynamics, intelligible lyrics, guitar solos and other signs of conventional appeal. Many people find it as exciting as watching a chess match. And yet, in the tradition of Spaceman 3, Spiritualized and other offshoot bands, FSA takes you further-- it rides you out into space on a solar flare and trusts you to wander safely on your own. No wonder the group proclaims itself "The Best New Band on Mars".
The production is similar to that of the Jesus and Mary Chain's Psychocandy: rough, loud and to the point. This album, on the tiny VHF label, conjures up the image of drug-soaked teenage boys discovering the beauty of a sustained note in their mum's basement. For some of the songs, however, this is tempered by the use of clarinet and horns, a la the Boo Radleys.
Outstanding tracks include the instrumentals "Moonset" and "Popul Vuh 1". On "Moonset", FSA sounds like the Chain sitting in on a free jazz session while a kid on bongos lurks in the back, slapping out nervous tribal rhythms. "Popul" is a tune that provides a slow and lovely experience, like watching ancient stained glass windows drip.
"Wish", previously released as a single in England, incorporates delicate melody changes and snippets of white noise that subtly overwhelm. Listening to "Wish" at full volume is akin to looking at a color field painting and feeling your eyes begin to bleed.
FSA is not just another drone-psych band, hovever. Amidst the feedback, there is an outstanding song, "The Season is Ours", which is closer to a '60s folk ballad than even the drug-rock of the period, and a humorous, heavily distorted version of Suede's "The Drowners".
There is an even mix of panoramic instrumentals and songs invaded by whispery vocals to please even the most jaded shoegazer...
Eggs and Helium
Eggs Teenbeat 96 Exploder LP & Pirate Prude
(Teenbeat/Matador)
You may not care, but I want to be Mary Timony when I grow up. Her sexy, languid, little-sister vocals and great big guitar work anchor the Massachusetts band Helium, whose EP Pirate Prude, on Matador Records, fills up the A-side of the tape currently in my Walkman (more about the B-side later). As I was saying, Helium is possibly the only band that could inspire me to pick up a guitar in this band-infested town. Timony, formerly of Autoclave, and Shawn and Brian of Dumptruck on bass and drums, have created an EP that leaves me eagerly awaiting a full-length album.
The album opens with "Baby Vampire Made Me" and the words, "Doesn't matter if it's day or if it's night/ You won't remember after I bite", and then Timony kicks in with riffs perfect for air guitaring around campus. The lyrics may seem a little insipid out of context -- "I'll be the pirate of you'll be my loot, I'll jump out of the plane if you'll be my parachute, you better catch me or I'll kill you"-- but Timony sings them with such sweet ferocity that it works. However, this is not a riot grrrl band, nor a bratty punk trio. Helium reminds me very slightly of the Breeders without the smiley pop production, but it's unfair to categorize them because they are so damn good. Eight bucks for six cool songs. Just go get it, OK?
Another undefinable band, Eggs, graces the B-side of my tape. Eggs is a nouveau rock-pop-jazz conglomeration from Virginia, a hotbed of new music these days. While we on the West Coast are lying in the sun, relaxing to easy-listening party music, those poor snowbound shut-ins back East have been messing with instruments in new and unique ways, and the result is freaky, but often brilliant. The Eastern seaboard has given us artists as varied as Superchunk, Sebadoh and Avail, and now Eggs, who sound like none of the above. Their second album, Eggs Teenbeat 96 Exploder LP, is a sprawling masterpiece designed as a double vinyl LP, and it barely fits on one CD. I can hear influences from the 60s, 70s, and yes, even the 80s, but don't let that scare you.
Eggs member Rob Christiansen's housemate is Mark Robinson, former ringleader of Unrest and head of the Teenbeat label, and the luancy factor is high. There are songs about the perils of body piercing ("Ampallang"), pseudo-Lating dance numbers ("Salsa Garden"), Casio keyboard experimental pieces and "Rebuilding Europe", which opens with the line, "I don't wanna be part of your Marshall Plan" and ends with "lose Pakistan.." Those wacky kids! Other highlights include an Arthur Lee cover and "the oblivist part 3", which reminds me of the slow-burning grooves on the last Beastie Boys album. If you like high-energy music with trombones and a left-field approach, check Eggs out.
Polvo
Celebrate the New Dark Age
(Merge)
Noisy, chiming guitars provide the head-on assault for the North Carolina upstarts in Polvo. Swirly time warp guitars. Wavering guitars poised near the red shift of the universe. Disillusioned, anarchic guitars that believe they are really keyboards, or woodwinds. And yet the lyrics manage to balance the glittery blasts from the guitars, to my surprise. I can actually make out the words in Polvo's latest, Celebrate the New Dark Age, which is a lovely little EP of seven songs that make for 25 minutes of pure listening satisfaction. I think the title accurately sums up the end of the 20th century, and the music is a fair representation of the hysteria of the time.
This band's sound has been getting more and more refined -- that is to say, more precise in its chaoticness-- with each record. In its current incarnation, well... dare I label it a pretty good stand-in for the Lou Barlow Experience? Now that I can decipher the words, which were buried or absent in previous releases, Cor-Crane Secret and Today's Active Lifestyles, I am amazed at how much Polvo now sounds like early Sebadoh or maybe Belt Buckle, one of the countless Lou byproducts. It's similar, but even more jocular, more notorious and more pointless. And these are good qualities, of course.
I like Polvo, I like the commanding tone of "Every Holy Shroud", in which an evil genius chants, "Celebrate the new dark age with us...calculate the irony with someone you can trust." I like deliberately mistuned instruments, abrupt starts and stops in each song and stupid song titles. I even like the packaging, which is done by Independent Project Press.
Polvo has something different to offer every time you hear the album. It is a loud and carefully constructed puzzle. It is also just plain weird at times. Most importantly, it doesn't insult your intelligence. Listen to this when you stare at one of those three-dimensional poster thingies, and it will help you realize that you shouldn't be wasting your time looking at little dots in the vain hope of finding spaceships or a row of ducks or something equally inane. Polvo will be available to wreck your sensibilities at the Palace in LA on June 10, along with Superchunk and the 3Ds. Celebrate the end of finals and check it out.
Electric Company, Jessamine, and Flying Saucer Attack
A Pert Cyclic Omen/Jessamine/Further
(Vernon Yard/Kranky/VHF)
I'm trying to spread the word: Spacy music is nice! Sure, you can't dance to it, you can't sing along, you generally can't even tap your foot to it. All you can do for the most part is turn off the lights, light candles in your bedroom and breathe to it, but hey, what's wrong with that?
I'm not talking new age here-- this genre of music can be very quiet but it can also be noisy, indeed. It has root in industrial music, dance music and even rock. Even Love and Rockets has taken a stab at it on its last album. What space/ambient does best is fulfill the clich&eacut; of wide open landscapes of sound. This is music that has weight and color and dimension. It is the soundtrack for journeys inside your head. German bands may have started the movement 20 years ago, but it is the works of Brits and Yanks that is attracting all of the attention now.
Electric Company is the encephalitic brain child of Brad Laner, who spends most of his time rubbing metallic objects against one another in the band Medicine. Laner is trying hard to jump on the lucrative ambient bandwagon here, and generally succeeds. I'll admit that no matter how much I like music like this, it's not easy to listen to a whole album at one sitting, but of the 10 songs on A Pert Cyclic Omen, with all fo the song titles anagrams of the album title, about half are worth the effort. On the best, Laner incorporates such sounds as urban street noise and low murmuring, chimes and whooshing sounds you might imagine air makes as it skims over the wings of airplanes.
Medicine's trademark screech and danceable beat ar prominent on songs like "Polymeric Accent," but "Cyclic Pee Matron" and "Elm Crypt Oceanic" have more of an icebergs-in-motion quality found in bands like Bark Psychosis and Labradford. The final song, "I Can Cop My Tercel," retains its appeal with the inclusion of a whisper that cannot quite be understood. Noises more in and out of the foreground, simulating the stomach rumbles of hungry and cranky machines.
Flying Saucer Attack is two kids from Bristol and a computer. Their newest album, Further, differs from previous efforts in its accessibility. While the songs are structured more like "real" songs, i.e. fairly intelligible vocals, acoustic guitar carrying the melody, etc., the tunes are somehow less accessible than before!
Further requires a little more effort to listen to than Distance, the singles compilation, perhaps because the singles were designed as complete entities in their own right. With Further, one must listen to the whole album in order to comprehend the big picture.
These two have always incorporated water sounds, usually of the tide, in their music. The new album features rainstorms that, including the prominent guitar lines, create the atmosphere of sitting by a campfire with people who definitely were never boy or girl scouts.
What is missing from Further is some of the organic and mystical feels provided by the near-tribal drumming on Flying Saucer Attack's first album. The excitement and tension has been replaced by loneliness and longing. This mellowing out may not please those who have heard the band's earlier material, but at least there are other new bands to turn to, such as Crescent and Bardo Pond, for people who miss the freshness of early Flying Saucer Attack.
Finally, Jessamine's self-titled debut is an enigma that cannot be easily categorized. There are languid femail vocals, a la Stereolab, on some of the songs, and there are organs and synths and goofy electronic noises, but Jessamine does not exhibit the joyous pop attitude of that band. The organ is used to create an uneasy edge, and the guitars rock out at times. The drums are big, fat, 60s power-trio drums. Secondary buzzes and hums are encouraged, and the overall sound is heavy and "live." There is no worry that Jessamine is only a studio band, manipulated by levers and pedals, soulless and anonymous.
Jessamine is tough; Jessamine is the unassuming bookworm who would rather kick your ass than crack a smile. "Inevitably" begins with an electric growl as a precursor to the noise to come, then features layers of sweet male and female vocals on top. "Cellophane" sounds like regret -- a fellow names Sonic Boom from Spectrum is probably fretting that he didn't write it furst. THere are 10 songs on the CD and not a bad one in the bunch. Jessamine an excellent album to try if you interested in feisty, not ambient, somewhat psychedelic music.
