Joseph Zitt – Nightscape for Irene

After a listening to a lot of overdriven punk rock and what not, it is cleansing in a way to listen to performances of vocal music. No matter how complex the compositions become, or how jarring the performance, there is a purity to the human voice that encourages intent listening and reflection. This is why a 15th century Motet can be just as striking to our modern ears as a (relatively) recent Ligetti composition. Harnessing this power in the tradition of everyone from Brian Eno to Karlheinz Stockhausen, Joseph Zitt has composed a number of atmospheric “structured improvisations” for voice both on his own and in collaboration with other groups, such as Comma. Zitt’s music has a spiritual element to it, which is evidenced both literally (his compositions feature improvised Torah readings, found sounds from Jerusalem, and texts based on religious service), and abstractly (the slow unfolding nature of his vocal music is meditative and often transcends its pre-determined structural origins).

That “Nightscape for Irene” was written as a lullaby is surprising, as this material would more likely be found in a horror film soundtrack than a toddler’s crib. One can only guess at what sort of dreams these sounds might engender! Then again, a gentle drone is a gentle drone, no matter how atonal it becomes … so it seems likely to do its job. If Branca were to mellow and start listening to Arvo Paart, he might make music like “Nightscape…” The piece starts off with a shimmering bowed guitar that is joined by processed vocals that create strange harmonies that resonate like hallucinations in this cave-like recording. This music gives you an idea of what it might be like to “hear” colors. It seems to follow an arc, but other than that it sounds very organic and appears to evolve naturally, without any specific external influence. There is something subtle about the “freeness” of this piece though that belies Zitt’s professional/academic musical background. Like the music of Cage, Zitt’s piece seems to have space written into it intentionally, allowing the performance to “work” no matter how a person would decide to perform it. The inspiration of Riley’s “In C” can be heard in that this music could probably be performed by nearly anyone anywhere … “Nightscape,” while not a hummable tune, is memorable and is not incapable of repetition like many great jazz solo improvisations. It lacks that elated desperation of great improvisation, yet stops time in other more subtle ways worth returning to.

Pro-Pound – Mission Complete

The disparity between quality indie rock and mainstream “modern rock/alternative” is well documented and discussed ad nauseum. It should come as no surprise then that such a disparity exists between MTV’s version of hip-hop and what comes bubbling up from the underground (with a few exceptions of course: the Roots, Outkast, etc). This genre, often overlooked by indie music fans (except perhaps as kitsch: Tone Loc, Kid N’ Play, “The Humpty Dance”), can provide much more than a dance beat, as the breadth afforded rappers gives them the opportunity to bust out with a literacy free from the constraints of your standard verse-chorus-verse. While it is true that just as many, if not more performers in hip-hop seem more bent on displaying their technical mastery and speed, there is a small but dedicated group of performers who seek to mesmerize their increasingly-demanding audience with elegant and powerful prose – providing deep substance as well as remarkable style.

While Pro-Pound are not really in the same ballpark as say, the Living Legends, they do hold themselves to a higher standard than rhymes about chronic, cash, and thongs. “Mission Complete,” while lacking the irony that characterizes some of their other songs (“That Gangsta Rap,” “L.I. Banger (Reppin)”), serves as a good showcase for the styles and personal gripes of three members of their crew and features some of the group’s best beats and production. Q-tile bursts out from the mix with a steady stream of indictments of phony thugs, money fixation, and disrespectful flirtation. She’s all business, and her forward delivery is a great counterpoint to the smooth delivery of J-Doto (whose m.c. style he terms “Pychoetics” is a sort of rapid-fire lisp). J-Rel finishes off the song with his fluid and calm style, which is a little stoic but never flat. Their singing of a simple chorus in between solos is a nice touch and works well beneath the choppy syncopation of their synth.

If you are new to independent hip-hop, Pro-Pound should dispel some of your assumptions about what this music is about. Knowing that they are barely the tip of the iceberg should indicate something to you of the diversity and quantity of underground groups worth your consideration.

Jason Walker – Stranger to Someone

When Ryan Adams released his second solo album last year, many, including myself, were puzzled by his decision to take on 70s rock instead of further mining the hybrid zones inhabited by ghosts of Dylan and Richards, as he’d done on 2000’s Heartbreaker. Maybe we should have looked around a little more, for if we had, we’d have discovered Jason Walker out there on the edges, pushing harder, moving quicker than Adams, who has now become a mainstream media darling.
Walker has long been associated with the Sydney music scene, singing with numerous bands and, most recently, assisting on Youth Group’s Urban&Eastern, one of the best albums of 2001. Stranger to Someone is his first solo album, but his maturity and songwriting finesse shine through. The title track opens up with a rebel’s yell, a great sing-along chorus (“There’s nothing wrong with me…”), and guitar work the Stones would be proud off. Later on, “Other Side of the Bar” has a looser flavour, relaxed, almost a Steve Earle offcast. You can tell Walker’s done his homework, and Graham Griffith’s pedal steel adds an authentic sense of melancholy.
But it’s on the cover versions featured here that you can hear Walker’s soul stretching out. He makes Tom Waites’ “Up Shit Creek Again” his own, all hungover loss and deadbeat row self pity. Elsewhere there’s Springsteen, Gram Parsons, and Danny O’Keefe tunes, and Jason’s cover of Mark Olson’s “I’m Still Dreaming (Now I’m Yours)” is a rock-a-bye baby perfect-for-the-porch number.
“Welcome to my World,” another Walker composition, finishes off this country-fried, cosmic rock album, and it’s a fitting conclusion, just him and his acoustic guitar. What we’re given over 13 tracks is music that’s made to last, finely honed, carefully constructed, and eeked out over years of playing two-bit bars in the back of beyond. Walker may not yet have the publicity whores of Universal hawking his ass, but he is well and truly equal to the calibre of Ryan Adams, Jeff Tweedy, and other Americana outlaws. Stranger to Someone has bitterness and balls, and that’s what great music is made of.

Hefner – Dead Media

Ok, so here are the basics. Hefner are Brits, they like irony, they dig the Talking Heads, and they are completely obsessed with analog synthesizers. With this behind us, we can then attempt to explore Dead Media, a surprisingly confusing record. See, this band obviously has talent. Tons of talent, actually, but unlike the superheroes (is that Daredevil on the cover?) that appear in the artwork, Hefner doesn’t always choose the path of good. And when you’re aiming for quality pop, that can be a problem.
The title track opens with simple dueling analog keys so reminiscent of Kraftwerk I can hear the lawyers stretching their mouth muscles already. Soothing Brit-pop vocals slide on top, giving the track some swing. The drums are stripped down to the extreme, providing the frailest of spines but doing the job. Excellent layering of electronic tones carries the song, suddenly dropping away to just the vocals. “Trouble Kid” features a distorted guitar riff that sounds like something Bon Jovi might write. However, the addition of mechanical drum beats and bubbling synths is more along the lines of that scary trend of combining 80s guitar and corny dance beats that appeared in the later 90’s (Anyone else remember “Ready to Go”?). Still, it’s hard to deny the whole package as a pop blast. The vocoder vocals that appear in a late break sound exactly like Kraftwerk…
At this point the guitars go into hibernation and the drums hit an IQ of 2. Take, for example, “When the Angles Play Their Drum Machines.” I really enjoy the walking tempo with its grooving bass and vintage electronics. That said, the 3:45 song will drive you insane because it relies on the all-too-obnoxious four on the floor beat that makes Euro-disco so unmistakable. Really, I quite enjoy everything else, but the drums make my brain hurt. Sadly, this trend continues. “Alan Bean” has great vocals, ear-twisting slide guitar, and various other well-placed noises, but the beat just sucks the life from the song. It is insulting to the listener’s intelligence, and perhaps worse, to the band’s abilities. Just a little more effort and these tracks could really work, but poor programming eliminates replay value with amazing speed. “Peppermint Taste” adds handclaps and tom rolls to keep it from falling into the same trap, thus refocusing attention to the innovative instrumentation. This is Hefner at its best.
“The King of Summer” has some seriously upfront slide guitar. The drums aren’t awful, though they still sound like the default setting on a store bought keyboard. Start-stop dynamics distinguish the track from the more “groove-oriented” material around it. The second half of the song almost directly steals the bass line from the Talking Head’s “Swamp” but then explodes into a quite impressive pop chorus. This pattern continues throughout the record, sometimes working, sometimes not. My advice: Listen to Dead Media before you buy. That way you’ll know if things like boring drums kill the otherwise impressive pop.

Inner – Lovetheonlyway

Some of the most brilliant works are created by control-freaks. There’s Siamese Dream- Smashing Pumpkins’ rock opus created by the hair-impaired Billy Corgan; Radiohead’s Kid A, which was dominated by Thom Yorke; and there was Jimi Hendrix’ Electric Ladyland, among many others. All of them are great albums, and although Inner’s debut Lovetheonlyway is not groundbreaking like the aforementioned albums, it definitely deserves the attention that only a control-freak can create.
Inner is essentially Jennifer Turner’s solo project. Turner started her career in the mainstream spotlight, playing guitar for Natalie Merchant. Later, Turner turned to another group under the moniker Furslide with Nellee Hooper, Jason Lader, and Adam MacDougall. The band signed a contract with Virgin and was well on their way to mainstream success, opening for bands such as the Smashing Pumpkins, Lenny Kravitz, and Alanis Morissette (ironically, Lenny Kravitz is a Jimi Hendrix clone, Radiohead opened for Alanis, and the Smashing Pumpkins are the Smashing Pumpkins). Anyhoo, the wheels of success abruptly stopped turning when the band broke up and Turner found herself in need of more creative control. Ditching major record labels, Turner erected her own label, Caboose, and has churned out 13 satisfying tunes.
It feels as though Turner is finally creating exactly what she wants with Inner, catering to her control-freak persona. From melancholy acoustic numbers (“Stories”) and beautiful acoustic ballads (“Begun”) to avant-garde tunes (“Thinkingisthewaymymindsounds”) and funky full-band rockers (“Myphilosophy”), the album visits an array of genres and moods, providing just the right amount of balance and variety. Each song smoothly runs into one another and compliments each other flawlessly. Turner knows just when to pump things up and when to quiet things down. However, the album shines brightest when Turner takes advantage of the intimacy of the acoustic guitar and/or minimal arrangements.
The strongest songs may be the last two on the album. “Lullabye” contains a haunting demeanor and lush instrumentation, drawing comparisons to Bjork’s modest beauty on Vespertine. Heartfelt vocals float over the heavenly music, as an optimistic undercurrent plays throughout. The next song “Kissme2x” follows with equal beauty, featuring minimal acoustic guitar work, as Tuner bestows her most visceral vocal performance on the album. It would have been great to have heard more songs like these in place of the full-band rockers because the intimacy is in its rawest, most obvious form, exposing Turner’s fragility.
Though not revolutionary nor incredibly original, Lovetheonlyway passes on so many levels. It takes the accessible nature of mainstream music and adds a creative and intimate twist, never relying on roaring choruses or overbearing drums. It’s personal, intimate, and most importantly, a work marked with passion. It’s the type of music that doesn’t necessarily appeal to this reviewer, yet manages to evoke emotions I thought were only reserved for 15-year-old females. If that’s not reason enough to get the album, then I don’t know what is.

Filmmaker – Break This Fall

When one thinks of the word “filmmaker,” there are certain names that flood into focus – Stanley Kubrick, Martin Scorsese, Orson Welles. Obviously, the filmmakers that are conjured up first are the cream of the crop, legends even. Keeping in mind the thousands of others with the same job title, one then continues down the line – Tony Scott, Stuart Gordon, Tobe Hooper. Although these filmmakers usually churn out solid product, there is something keeping them from the elite. These people have obvious talent but have failed to truly deliver on their promise.
Choosing the name Filmmaker for a band is a gutsy move. Since many think of the greats when that word pops into their mind, they are going to expect a lot. When one takes a listen to Filmmakers’ Break This Fall, one gets the sense of potential. There is definitely talent behind this release, yet there is something holding them back from truly conquering their indie territory.
The band as a whole is solid from top to bottom. The vocals are melodic, and they also have a bit of force behind them. The guitars and rhythm section round out the band nicely and perform their functions with craftsmanship. The recording is produced well, and their sound comes off properly on record. The problem sets in with the underlying factors that can truly mark the difference between a good band and a decent one – the biggest factor being the bands use of energy. Instead of harnessing it and releasing it at proper moments, they tend to go the predictable route and beat it over the listeners head.
The band sounds best when it holds back on the distortion and lets the listener wade in their songwriting. Songs like “Don’t Speak, She Said” is a prime example of the band’s capability at songwriting. This track is a solidly crafted piece of emo/indie pop that is somber yet melodic. The vocals shine through over a minimal background of guitars, which helps the band establish a tender, yet interesting sound. On the other hand “Offences Between Us” adds a bit more distortion to the mix but sacrifices some of the subtlety that “Don’t Speak” established. Gone is the underlying cloud of energy that lurks just underneath the previous track. Not to say that the first track was louder or more brutal, but it did have a bit of mystery and intrigue that kept things interesting.
“Falling and Failing” is somewhat of a combination of the results of the aforementioned tracks. It has a bit of the curiosity that “Don’t Speak” slyly sneaks in on the listener, yet there also is a bit of the overabundant noise that “Offences” brings to the table. For instance, the track begins softly and obscurely as they establish a sweet tone. The track continues to build on that tone, but instead of developing in a similarly confident way, the band resorts to the punch of distortion. This tactic seems out of place and unnecessary. It’s almost as if the band doesn’t have the confidence to rely on their songwriting and, instead, chooses to bring the predictable and sometimes monotonous distortion peddle forth to beat energy into the listeners ear drums.
Filmmaker is a band with definite potential. This first release is a nice venture into the world of indie rock. When the band is on, the record is a pleasant listen that catapults one into a peaceful place. If the band gains a bit of confidence and a better sense of how to harness their energy, they could eventually move into the league of the legends.

Kick in the Eye – Rock and Roll Needs a Kick in the Eye

Is there really any place for good ol’ rock and roll anymore? I suppose that question has been raised so many times in the past 25 years that its mere repetition here probably seems somewhat redundant, but I’ll admit that I was becoming one who had finally given up on the old girl. Radiohead was sounding closer to Aphex Twin than Pink Floyd, Pavement broke up, and the Rolling Stones hadn’t released a decent album in 20 years. Then the White Stripes, the Strokes, et al hit with full force and distorted guitars and gritty swagger returned to remind us how fun simple music could be. Kick in the Eye fancy themselves as sitting somewhere in the middle of the rock and roll continuum.
A husband and wife (or is it brother and sister?) duo a la the White Stripes, but with Marian Lochrie covering bass and vocals instead of drums (which are apparently provided by a friend/studio musician) and Donnie Lochrie handling guitar and vocals, Kick in the Eye run through much of the same territory (traditional blues, country, rock) as the famed red and white Detroit rockers but with considerably less growl. In fact, most of the tracks on this five-song EP don’t really present anything of much distinction at all, which is truly the death knell of a band that wants to delve into rock revivalism. A tight, but rather unimaginative, cover of Slim Harpo’s “Shake Yer Hips” leads off the set, although it comes off as a somewhat reheated rendition of the version that the Stones did on their classic Exile On Main Street. Marian Lochrie’s cutely vulnerable vocals do the song justice but almost seem to be parodying Mick Jagger’s pronunciation, which itself was aping the blues original. The following “Hurricane” is a sunny paean to Chuck Berry/early Beach Boys-era highway rock, but even with nice hooks and sugary choruses, it just doesn’t survive the repetition of lines like “Girl you’re mine, I can’t get enough of you” and “Ooohhhh”s.
The lively “Stop Messin’ My Heart Around” returns to the formula of the previous song, but Donnie Lochrie’s nasal twang mixes with Marian Lochrie’s squeaky preciousness to create a rather flat effect. Pleasantly mindless rock but nothing to write home about. The following cover of the Carter Family classic “No Depression,” however, is a true low point in the history of recorded music. With Donnie and Marian assuming faux-southern accents and delivering the rather serious ethos of the song with call-and-response mock hickishness, the track never becomes anything more than utterly obnoxious. (For a much better update of the tune, check out Uncle Tupelo’s album of the same name). “Thirty Miles” ends where you might expect, more Chuck Berry-styled guitar and big candy choruses. Competent but hardly essential, on this track at least, their arrangement and vocals are more ingratiating than grating.
Overall, it’s hard to write off a band on the virtues of a five-song EP, but Kick in the Eye are going to have to try harder to create a little novelty, find a distinctive sound, or discover a marketable trait, or they may have trouble finding much of an audience for their retread rock. Maybe turn up the distortion a little, sing with a little more conviction, and write a song that doesn’t attempt to recreate sound that should have been constructed before they were born. Still, it’s nice to know that there are folks like this still playing the good ol’ rock for the fun of it. I guess I just need a little more prodding to have much fun riding this warn out warhorse.

The All Golden – A Long Good Friday

Welcome to the magical mystery tour that is The All Golden and their debut full-length A Long Good Friday. Chock full of vintage sounds and timeless song-craft, this Kent, Ohio conglomerate crank up lava lamps and amps to create a semi-psychedelic palate of indie-rock. The songwriting duo of Scott Bennett and Chris Sheehan seem similarly guided by regional voices that beg for the one perfect pop song that may not have been written some 30 years ago, but should have been. By way of ancient organs and electric pianos, The All Golden compliment classic, guitar-driven rock throughout A Long Good Friday: an ignis fatuus release fed by the buried corpses of The Beatles, Pink Floyd, and even The Who.

With its climbing Moog riff and melodically vocalized chorus, the song “Bright” displays a Robert Pollard-like observance of fundamental rock song structures that grab and hold the listener. Some of this may have to do with other Ohio indie-pop guy Kevin Coral taking time from The Witch Hazel Sound to help record and produce A Long Good Friday. Some of it may also have to do with the fact that The All Golden have exclusive access to their own Waterloo Sound Recording Studio where Guided By Voices spent some time recently recording follow-up material to their Isolation Drills. In fact, you’d have to tell me twice that it’s not old Bob himself singing on behalf of The All Golden in the song “More or Less,” although his name is listed nowhere in the liner notes. A lengthy song of loose acoustic guitar, keyboard, and layered, open-space vocals, “More or Less” sounds easily enough like one of the better, touching songs from the fading captain’s suitcase, but here it is The All Golden.

It’s possible that The All Golden could have all types of Elephant 6 references tossed their way because of a noticeable phantasmal pop element. With an upbeat tempo, organs, jingling tambourine, guitars, and an ever present sense of something nostalgic, songs like “Smoking’s the Last Sin” or “Tom Collins (Genius Isn’t a Mixed Drink)” have all the offerings that fans sought from indie-rock’s more recent musical commune. But now, I’m starting to understand that there is indeed some sort of definite, rock time warp capturing many in Ohio.

Wilco – Yankee Hotel Foxtrot

One of the best albums of 2001 is finally getting released almost a year after it was completed. It’s well worth the wait. Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot emerges after an amicable split between the band and its label Reprise. When asked by Reprise to make changes, Wilco declined. Instead, the band not only got out of its contract – it took the unusual step of buying back its master recordings for $50,000. Wilco’s leader Jeff Tweedy shopped the songs around before they were picked up by Nonesuch Records.
Yankee Hotel Foxtrot picks up where Summerteeth left off. It’s another pop album, rather than the alt-country of previous works, but it goes a step further with its expansive, eclectic styles. The album opens with the forlorn “I am Trying to Break Your Heart,” a song that features a swirling cacophony of distortion, feedback guitar, keyboards, and bells. Tweedy’s distinctive voice cracks and breaks when he delivers despairing lyrics such as, “I always thought that if I held you tightly / You’d always love me like you did back then.”
He segues from the up-tempo “Kamera,” which is reminiscent of Elliot Smith, to the raw, emotional, dirge-like “Radio Cure,” which builds in tempo. The Beatlesque “Heavy Metal Drummer” combines synthesizers and maracas in a snappy drum beat. The song describes an innocent time past when the band was, “Playing Kiss covers / Beautiful and stoned.”
You have to wonder when you hear songs like “I’m the Man Who Loves You,” with its heavy lead guitar, strumming acoustic rhythm, and horn section, why the suits at Reprise had a problem with this album. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot was mixed by Jim O’Rourke, the musician, producer, and experimental mastermind behind dozens of groups, including Sonic Youth and Stereolab.
The album is one that may need more than one listen before it gets hold of you. That’s because the band isn’t limiting itself to one sound. It wants to keep moving forward. Maybe Tweedy wants to shake that alt-country label that he helped create while he was with the seminal band, Uncle Tupelo. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, like Summerteeth before it, takes a brave creative stance. The new sparse sound delivers a lyrical blow. Wilco won’t be pigeon-holed – like any true artist. Their risk has paid off artistically, but will it pay off financially?

Knotworking – Notes Left Out

Knotworking’s Edward Gorch has a few moments of really fine singer-songwriter moves on Notes Left Out. Even when a song sinks under its own lofty aspirations, he gets off at least a few thoughtful lines that engage you. The over-stated country twang becomes oppressive by the disc’s end and may alienate listeners tired of alt-country groups writing songs about experiences they’ve probably never had. Still, if you buy into the mood and stay with album, it offers some really worthwhile moments.
For instance, the way Gorch squeezes syllables on “Central Bridge” is its own reward. He makes “There’s a thousand tiny spotlights that could serve as stars” roll of the tongue beautifully. It’s a line that would make Adam Duritz proud, and that’s meant as a compliment. The song is loaded with quiet observations, and for three minutes, before it breaks into a guitar solo right out of “Little Pink Houses,” it’s the disc’s best song. “Blankets” lulls along nicely; it’s a great opener and raises hopes that the rest of the album only occasionally lives up to. “Lungs filled with water cannot offer a song of departure” is a good rhyme and a great image. When the subject matter and tone stay away from grand declarations, the resulting effect is much better.
“Manuel” develops into fine ballad, like a more orchestrated version of a song that may have been on Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska album. The band makes like a countrified version of Low on “Imbecile Smile.” The highlight of that song and the album is the great refrain, “I’ll go home and count all the tiles stretching out from my room to the door.” Comparisons to Nick Drake seem pretty obvious as well, but only one song really warrants it. “Castle,” with its stark title and chorus of “We’re not so young” seems to be the closet to Drake. The band seems to owe more to Vic Chestnutt. Gorch has a wounded little voice reminscent of Chestnutt’s or Kurt Wagner from Lambchop. Knotworking lack the great self-deprecating humor that keeps the music of both Chestnutt and Lambchop from being buried by the moods they create, though.
At its most overly serious, the songs are reminiscent of the mid-80’s singer-songwriter revival. “Lawn Plastic Santa,” the story of a welfare family told in the first person, could have been on Tracy Chapman’s first album. Gorch sings “Lord I know this is the land of plenty where we throw away more than what we need” without a touch of irony, which would almost be noble if it wasn’t so over-dramatic. It’s also reminiscent of Patty Griffin’s “Poor Man’s House,” though her sometimes overly wrought lines are saved by her powerful voice. In fact, Knotworking invite lots of comparisons, and that’s a big part of the problem. They’re obviously talented enough to find their own style, so it may be wise for them to push harder to develop a sound not so easily pigeonholed. If they do, and their songwriting continues to develop, they’ll be a band worth watching.

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