Eight Minutes to Wapner – Secret Agent Briefcase of Love

Take Mike Patton and force him to create a new-age album under the direction of Burt Bacarach and the Residents. Channel the whole pastiche through Grassy Knoll and score it for a non-existent aboriginal documentary/children’s cartoon, and what do you get? A foolish-sounding critic, struggling to describe the sound(s) of Eight Minutes to Wapner. It’s probably safe to sat that they are the most pleasantly surreal band in Minneapolis. Their sound is surprisingly polished and sophisticated, and despite the wide range of techniques and genres they approach, each piece retains its linear form with artful digressions that morph into smooth transitions in the same musically articulate moment. Because most of this is constructed via computer, there is sometimes a wooden quality to their music which detracts from its liveliness; an increased reliance on live instruments might make them comparable the avant-everything supergroup, Sex Mob.

“Secret Agent Briefcase of Love” begins with an unusual stringed instrument plucking out a a rhythm, a few vocal bursts and hand-drums introduce traditional percussion along with electronic beats, a low bass throb, and a small melody. These colors are then added upon by synthesized brass and a repeated figure on a xylophone-like instrument. After the brass interpolates for a while, everything stops and a digerdoo begins to drone, as a harp returns with the same small melody. A bass with accompaniment in the form of electronic sounds comes in, and as the strings tastefully swell, we hear samples of cow-bells, a dirge of male voices, and countless other colors all tastefully arranged. The result is quite uplifting, and after a time it begins to swing with a sort of Mingus-feel (even though harmonically it is far from Mingus … or even Sun Ra, who the piece is dedicated to). As the piece begins to rock more fervently and individual sampled sounds flow in and out of the mix, the synth brass returns in earnest, adding a touch of film-noir to the creepy yet transcendent world-beat that has been established so far. The piece continues to evolve slowly, with the digerdoo being overdubbed and filtered through a watery chorus-effect until it dwindles down and we are once again left with what we started with instrumentally, and the song ceases with a staccato vocal “GAAAT!”

Eight Minutes to Wapner take you to a lot of different places with the variety of sound colors they use, as well as the effortless shift and combination of instruments from different parts of the world. There is always a seamless integration, predicated on the inevitable circular motion that lulls the listener into a sort of soothing captivation with any derivation from one or two themes. The emotional content, however, is quite reserved, and the band never digs down for the sinister sounds that perhaps require live musicians to realize. They seem capable of composing strong piece though, and as their technical skills grow, so will the expression of these abilities.

Artdisorder – Fallen

When European bands begin to sing in English, hoping to get more attention from the US, I’m always confused as to what they are hoping to accomplish. If they are hoping to get radio play and become popular, their English had better be matched by a few grand in today’s pay-for-play music marketplace. I mean, maybe they can get themselves a spot on the Warped tour without bribing someone, but otherwise I don’t foresee the move to singing in English being very meaningful. In some ways, a metal band (which Artdisorder at times claims to be) is probably better off singing in a non-English language, since that is likely to make them stand out from what most Americans are used to hearing, and, as is the case with black metal, it might give them more credibility among listeners. Then again, since they are a “lovecore” group, they might want to make their message understood to a broader audience (although the way their songs are produced, it is difficult to make out the lyrics anyway). Artdisorder seem to suffer from a confusion as to how to present themselves and what their goal is in doing so.

“Fallen” is an example of a band that is trying to be all things to all people. The song begins with a fluid guitar motif that is repeated a few times over a warm bass line and percussion that borders on a disco beat. The feeling is calm and moody, with quiet bursts of synth, creating atmosphere. Just as the listener is lead to believe that this is going somewhere, it fizzles out and suddenly we are thrust into a world of throbbing double-bass kicks and crunchy power chords. This change is unexpected and almost unwelcome, especially as the vocals turn into a Pantera-influenced bark. As we approach the chorus, the chords become thicker and sheathed in a more palatable reverb, falling somewhere between Stompbox and Coldplay. The vocals are now sung as sweetly as possible while being filtered through a warbly studio effect, often heard in dance, music which creates a distance between the speaker and listener that is not fitting for the intimate lyrics. Artdisorder then do a sort of break-down, which leads into an attempt at bringing together the intro with the rest of the song by repeating the guitar line beneath a blanket of chords. The intro is simply too disparate though, and they never manage to bring the song full circle.

While Artdisorder seems muddled (and, well, disordered) about their approach at times, it is partly because they are talented and savvy enough to play a variety of styles. With time, they may learn to better integrate these techniques and styles into a meaningful whole.

Mr. Moor – Old Man #24

The man behind Mr. Moor sounds afraid of his own voice. His music consists of the murky sounds that shift around in the back of people’s heads never to see the light of day. Somehow, perhaps because of his obscurity (which I have now partially trampled by writing about), these sounds come out fully intact, without the baggage of concerning himself with a potential audience or comparing his output to what other bands are releasing. Stepping into this sound world, I felt somewhat guilty for intruding and yet entranced by what I had discovered – a feeling similar to that when I listen to a cassette (usually found at a thriftshop or flea market) of the recordings that someone made of themselves when they were a little kid. You have found an artifact that exudes personal drama and individuality with little to no pretense; something truly priceless. By priceless I of course do not mean flawless, but in many ways it is the imperfections – both in recording technique, and performance – that give Mr. Moor their charm.

“Old Man #24″ brings to mind Spacemen-3 with its drawn out muddling, droning vocals and guitar feedback. The chord changes are blues-based but still seem rather mysterious. The sound of running water (or possibly just shitty recording technology?) hisses in the background throughout. A pungent fuzz guitar marks time as a clean guitar picks through arpeggios to create a harmonic skeleton for the soft vocals to put meat on. The percussion is so low in the mix that it sounds like it was not even meant to be recorded. Its almost as if someone was playing along without even being aware of it – as if they were just tapping their foot along with the tune. The lyrics are constricted and cryptic, which is fitting for the music. It’s as if they were improvised the moment they were sung and then written down afterwards. The song ends rather abruptly, as if by a person humming to themselves, suddenly realizing they are being listened to.

Mr. Moor turns their weaknesses into their advantages by making their songs take on the nature of field recordings. While the material is familiar, the way it is presented makes the music seem like it is coming from a different culture. The tension between the foreign and familiar, the personal and the alien make Mr. Moor one of more interesting groups you are likely to come across.

Holy Roman Empire – Two Whole Minutes Underwater

This Boston-based group would undoubtedly be a big contender in indie-rock circles if they were able to recreate what they do on record in a live setting and then tour with this material. That appears to be the unfortunate catch to Holy Roman Empire – that the most impressive creations are the result of many hours of overdubbing and tweaking behind a mixer and therefore exist primarily in a hyperreal vacuum instead of a smoky bar or liberal gallery. The end result of all this recording is an extremely diverse yet cohesive body of work (most of it now available in the form of a CD) that has endless layers, none of which are superfluous to the tremendous impact of the music if you are patient enough to wait for it to unfold in all its post-punk-influenced glory. Vocals are just another instrument or texture in the mix and are left off of many of their songs.

Choosing a song to review by this band was difficult because they are so diverse that it seems inevitable that whatever I pick will not quite be representative of their work as a whole. Rather than fuss over which song incorporates the widest amount of their talent (such as the well-paced Yo La Tengo-like “This is Only Part of It”), or one which displays their pop sensibilities (e.g. their cover of Billy Joel’s “Pressure”), I will focus on an outtake which finds the band at one extreme. “Two Whole Minutes Underwater” is a cathartic overdriven aphorism that is incredibly intense (thanks to the excessively loud metallic percussion and wall of sound guitars), without losing touch with more subtle elements of timbre or melody. For example, the use of electronic percussion is slight but adds a great level of detail in its contrast with the bombast of the rest of the drums on the track. For the melody, a guitar plays a single-string melodic solo beneath the din which brings to mind early Joy Division. Indeed, this track sounds similar to the raw buzz of that band’s most intense live moments. If “Two Whole Minutes Underwater” represents Holy Roman Empire at their least focused or at their worst, that should give you some idea of just how good they are.

Holy Roman Empire is a great find, and while their songs may not have an immediate impact on you, give them a chance with a few downloads and repeat listens. Its likely that their music will grow on you.

Majestic – Wake Up, Come Out, and Play!

With more band members in the studio than there are tracks on the album, Majestic achieves unparalleled depth and lushness in their upbeat and dreamy soundtrack to a summer day. In Majestic’s sophomore outing, Wake Up, Come Out, and Play!, the band reveals their true penchant for blissfully gorgeous pop songs.
Majestic formed in California under the name Majestic 12 in the mid-90s. Losing a singer and the “12,” the band regrouped under the name Majestic in 1997 and in 1999 released their debut album Live It Up! The band has spent the better part of the last several years performing around California and forming a significant fan base with appearances on several compilations.
The album opens with the infectious and ethereal “Tumbling,” featuring horns that give the track a distinctly gameshow-esque flair. Scott Schultz and Sarah Windes contribute absolutely breathtaking vocals that soar above the clouds and stay true to the soft rock tradition that Majestic references. In fact, each and every song on the album is full of addictively sugary bliss-pop beats. One such standout track is “Chocolate Milk,” a sweetly down-tempo acoustic romp with a solid yet ethereal rhythm element. The song’s subject matter betrays its somewhat woeful composition and turns out sounding just as sunny and carefree as the rest of the album. Two selections from the album, “Come Out and Play” and “Malibu U.” specifically reference the summery, carefree attitude that carries the whole album.
There is absolutely no sophomore slump to be seen from Majestic. Wake Up, Come Out, and Play! is an endearing and lovely album that solidly establishes this talented group of musicians. This album is required summer listening for anyone that enjoys sunbathing, reading on the porch, and sipping iced tea.

Split Lip Rayfield – Never Make it Home

I have to admit I’m a sucker for good PR, so when a CD turns up on my doorstep labeled Appalachian Black Sabbath, I was hooked. All it took were about three songs of this, Split Lip Rayfield’s third release, and I was reeled in and bagged, my throat ready to be slit open as long as the music kept playing.
First point of audacity – the great chorus of track one, that rhymes “never will forgive you” with “movin’ to Virginia.” Second point – the big ass intro thump of “Record Shop” that turns out to be a bass made out of an old Ford gas tank. Third and most beautiful – Kirk Rundstrom’s 28-year-old-Jagger-on-smack vocals, all sex and sneer entwined with regret and loss, helped out by the rest of the band letting loose; it’s scary to hear four grown men groaning, “You take all your chances on me.”
The band is part banjo, part acoustic guitar, part car-part bass, with the occasional mandolin and harmonica popping up when needed. Each listen brings something new – listen to “Thief” and it’s all banjo possessed that grabs you at first. Listen again, and you realise you’re hearing the tale of a man condemned to hell for screwing both the rector’s daughters. There’s little coincidence these guys come from the same place William Burroughs chose to grow pot and shoot visitors.
I know I’m enthusing wildly here, but for once it’s deserving. This CD has traveled with me across five stereos and two states; it’s had 5-year-olds dancing and 35-year-olds singing along within minutes; and it’s had me tapping along (Geoff don’t do dancing) and eyes aglow at 2 a.m. Maybe it’s the feeling of finally hearing something new, ironically in a musical form that has been around for the better parts of two centuries. Perhaps it’s the pop sensibilities of uppity tunes that smooth over the sense of desolation and despair, a trick Big Star and the Velvet Underground, among others, could always pull off. And maybe it’s just the feeling I get, listening to something I know is special, something that writhes and wrestles with demons and somehow manages to get it all across in a three minutes song like “Used to Call Me Baby.” Whatever it is, I’m a convert, and I know this is one of the best releases I’m likely to hear this year.

Wise and Foolish Builders – Sleight of Hand

Some bands have it, some don’t. Wise and Foolish Builders definitely have it. The “it” I’m referring to is the knack for smart songwriting. Sleight of Hand is WAFB’s freshman release (which is hard to believe when listening to this nine-track album) and definitely has this so called “it.” The melodies, the instrumentation, the songwriting all sound like they were created and performed by professional, major-label musicians. Which is why it’s even harder to believe that this album is self-released.
Wise and Foolish Builders’ music is primarily piano-driven, chock full of orchestral flourishes and air-tight rhythm accompaniment. The overall intensity of the music rests in a comfortable spot between loud and soft – an adequate volume for relaxing, but not so much that you will drift off to sleep. By default, the easiest comparison can be directed toward Ben Folds Five, with Wilco and Remy Zero waiting on the sidelines.
Ben Smith (not to be confused with Ben Folds) is the vocalist and pianist (not to be confused with penis). His voice is like a blend between Thom Yorke and Jeff Tweedy. When it comes to WAFB, melodies seem to be the primary concern; the songs rely heavily on the vocals (both melody and lyrics), as each track is primarily built around the lyrical content. And if Smith stops singing, you can be assured that a horn or stringed instrument will takes its place.
Each song is a symphony of uplifting moods and beautiful arrangements: carefree, light-hearted, and incredibly relaxing. From bells and strings, to pedal steel and guitar, the music is so thick and fat that it goes straight to your thighs. And not only is the arrangements incredibly affective within the tracks themselves, but also affective as a cohesive whole, as each song seamlessly blends into the next. In short, WAFB has the ability to see the big picture, where not many groups in this stage of their career can easily say that.
One of the stronger tracks is the opening song, “Hidden Track,” which features a sweet, head-nodding rhythm. The track is replete with lush harmonies and staccato tinkling, foreshadowing the lush music to come. Elsewhere, “Nation of Vipers” proves most visceral, with a light-hearted first half, later segueing into a moody outro. The rest of the album is similar in style to these two songs, with minor additions and subtractions.
But like most melody-driven albums with tight instrumentation, the amount of originality and freshness is lost somewhere between the vitriolic lyrics and the verse-chorus-verse structure. It’s safe to say that this album would not fare too well in an elitist, snobby neighborhood, but modern pop radio and people yearning for strong songwriting and talented musicians would eat this up like a Monster Burger at Hardees. At times sophisticated, at times exciting, and at times brilliantly constructed, Wise and Foolish Builders has just built a suitable foundation on which to create a solid career.

Nice – My Planet

Even if the album cover does paint the picture of a teeny-bopper boy band, they say you can’t judge a book by its cover, right? Well, what we have here is sort of an adult version of Hansen, with the brothers Anderson (John, Ricky, and Mike) joined by pal John Bell (who is oddly either excluded or put in the background of group photos).
Predictably, these are sugary sweet pop songs. The plus side: the album is harmless enough, with not much of anything capable of causing offense. The minus side: the album is terribly predictable and lacking range. Citing bands from Duran Duran to Supergrass to Weezer to Oasis as major influences, this California band churns out power-pop like an item of mass production. The jangly guitars, with just a faint hint of new-wave spaciness, is what it all revolves around. Gentle strumming and cutesy melodies abound, building the support system for the nauseatingly sweet vocals.
The say-nothing lyrics (“Stay out late, I’m not coming home / Stay out late, leave me alone”), which focus largely on girls and growing up, are perfectly suitable for this sort of style, but if you’re looking for thought-provoking content, you’ll be better off looking elsewhere. The rhythm section plods along, playing well but seemingly restrained by the structure they are a part of. Layered vocal harmonies and keyboards are thrown into the mix in an effort to make things even sweeter. As a result, songs like “When I Say” resemble tracks from the soundtrack to one of those terrible and equally predictable teenage love films.
By the end of the album, you feel like you have heard the same song regurgitated over and over again, and it is really starting to get on your nerves. If this is “the future of pop,” as the band claims to be, we are all in a lot of trouble.

Alfie – A Word in Your Ear

Every once in awhile an album comes around that begins so great, but then things sadly take a turn for the worse by the end. Unfortunately, as good as the first half of Alfie’s latest album is, the second half shows a band floundering for which direction to go next.

The album starts off promising enough. The title track is a splendid acoustic-based number that exudes a pleasant, summer day feel. Think Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young with a bit of modern indie rock ambience. “Cloudy Lemonade” is very similar to the previous track in sound, but it adds a bit of flute over the harmony, which works nicely. The vocals sound vaguely like Billy Corgan’s except not quite as whiny. “Bends For 72 Miles” is another solid song that adds a bit of bass-driven rhythm to the mix but continues with the tones of the previous songs.

When one reaches the halfway point through the record, it’s easy to think, “Hey, this is a pretty darn good band. The songs are catchy, well-written, and tight. The vocals are nice. What more can a music fan ask for?” Maybe the band posed themselves this question as well, because the second half of the record brings a lot more to the table – much more than anyone asked for.

“The Reverse Midas Touch” comes completely out of nowhere. At first it seems like a hip-hop spoof with the bizarre rap at the beginning, but then it continues on with a funky rhythm. For some reason the vocals have become nasal and unpleasant as well. There are also little annoying background noises that sound more at place on a Playstation game. Was this the band’s attempt for some sort of hit single on the MTV market? The track mostly sounds like a wanna-be Beck type tune and is a very strange choice for the album.

“Summer Lanes” does redeem the choice of the previous cut as it’s a throwback to the previous songs on the record but a bit more rocking. Unfortunately, “Me and Mine” sounds more at place at a carnival. It’s good to see a band experimenting, but this track just doesn’t really flow well. The melody isn’t so bad, but when it’s accompanied by an off-putting rhythm and jug-like sounds, it just doesn’t work.

When the band is on, they sound great. The first few tracks on the record are solidly crafted, melodic, and professionally played. The songwriting, although not completely original, holds a pretty high standard, leaving the listener excited with the arrival of each new track. If the band can stick to the material that they are strongest at, great things could happen for them. They definitely should stay away from songs like “The Reverse Midas Touch.” Hopefully whatever demons they had that needed exorcising were released with the creation of that tune. With that out of their system, they can concentrate on writing the solid, splendid rock that they are more than capable of creating.

The Capsules – Reverser

The Capsules are led by Julie and Jason Shields who were formerly in the under-recognized band Shallow. The Capsules specialize in soaring melodies, with the almost adolescent vocals of Julie soaring over top. They create sparse, flowing, dreamy melodies with some very good pop hooks to keep the listener interested. The sparse nature of the music keeps the listener interested and hooked on what is happening in the song, creating a little bit of an ambient feel to some of the tracks.
“A Place To Stay” starts the disc off with a flowing dreamy melody mixed in with sound effects of crashing waves. Julie’s vocals soar over the repeating guitar lines, sound effects, and rolling cymbal crashes. “I’ll Be The One” makes perfect effects from mixing two vocal tracks with each other for a very interesting vocal melody. Julie’s voice is very strong on both vocal tracks, and the soaring music eventually gives way to a more minimalistic guitar part. The Capsules prove that they are adapt at building up their momentum in their quieter moments and then bursting out with dream pop beauty. “Someday” has a very beautiful flowing sparse melody, with melancholic vocals that occasionally come off a little bit like the Chipmunks with Julie’s high pitched voice.
“Bee Keeper” shows off how beautiful Julie’s voice can be, and she puts the listener into a dream like state. Their are some swirling sound effects and keyboard work that lay down a cloudy track that accentuates the haziness of the song. “Lift Off” does exactly what its titles says, with soaring melodies building and dropping with some interesting effects adding to the song. “When You Were Young” uses the sparse music as a formation for some achingly beautiful vocals that can almost put the listener to sleep. The melodies just float in and out while the vocals combine perfectly, rarely interrupting the music.
The Capsules first release shows just how beautiful a good band can be, when they know what they are doing. The music flows on a dream-like level throughout the whole CD with Julie’s voice being a powerful enough tool to break through. The songs occasionally blend into each other, at points making it hard to discern which song is which, but with such beautiful music it doesn’t make that much of a difference. The music has a drowsy tone to it that is very relaxing to listen to, sometimes too much so that it is hard to stay awake. Reverser is a soaring dreamy release with some ambient moments that lets the listener know what the Capsules are all about.

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