The Junior Varsity – Say Goodnight

This band seems to be a bit of a fan of all that punk-pop stuff that is splattered all over the place, but Junior Varsity is at its best when the band sets its sights a little higher as they do with “Say Goodnight.” This song is an earnest number that starts of with a gentle unassuming little guitar riff and then goes all huge by the time the chorus kicks in.

The band’s sound on this song is pleasant enough – it’s clean and neat, but perhaps it needs to feel bigger to give their promising songs that killer blow. The vocals are strained and sound small. The guy should do something with his voice, and things would improve appreciably. At the moment, it sounds like a thousand other indie voices, but this band’s strength lies elsewhere.

So during the times this band take themselves seriously and burn their punk records we might actually have something here.

Hefner – When the Angels Play Their Drum Machines

It’s 80s synths and enigmatic vocals all the way with Hefner, with drum loops and equally loopy lyrics about a girl who seemed intent on ruining our hero’s hearts. If Kraftwerk had grown up listening to indie music then they would have sounded just like Hefner. There is that enigmatic quality in “Angels” and a curious mix of emotive lyrics sung in a detached emotionless style.

Other songs are more traditional guitar-led numbers, but “When the Angels Play Their Drum Machines” that has the kitsch uniqueness that has them standing out from the bunch. The lyrics are interesting with topics in other songs touching on “Christian Girls” and “The Hymn For the Cigarettes.” “When the Angels Play Their Drum Machines” itself doesn’t seem to be much about drum machines or indeed angels, but I’m sure the intention was there someone along the line. Instead it’s about chances of love that you get in hotel rooms by the seaside. It also seems quite sad despite the novel fun sound of all the lo-fi keyboards.

This is definitely worth a listen if you like your synth sound about 20 years old, Hefner should do more of this kind of stuff.

Ugly Casanova – Sharpen Your Teeth

Whenever the principle songwriter of a great band decides to work on a solo project, he/she has a difficult task ahead of them. Now free from the compromises that unavoidably come with being part of a band, how does one keep the newfound liberty from turning into overindulgence? On the other hand, if he/she isn’t going to take a different direction or break new ground with their work, why go solo in the first place? It’s a tough balance to achieve and maintain. From the perspective of the fan it’s a fine line as well. We’re excited about the possibilities of a solo record from an artist we love, but we also don’t want to be completely alienated by an album of inaccessible songs or too much experimentation. Well, for anyone already reasonably acquainted with Modest Mouse frontman Isaac Brock’s distinct songwriting and sound, it’s pretty safe to see that any such concerns can be laid to rest following his first solo effort, Ugly Casanova’s Sharpen Your Teeth.
Though the opening track, “Barnacles,” doesn’t stray all that far from the moody niche that Modest Mouse achieved on their last EP, Everywhere and His Nasty Parlor Tricks, Brock wastes little time thereafter to start pushing his borders. Beginning with the second number, the brilliantly titled “Spilled Milk Factory,” the instrumentation and arrangements on the album become as motley as one might imagine Brock’s own company to be. Kitchenware, blocks, and heavy chains often push their way to the front of the rhythm section. Synthesized string sections unobtrusively decorate the songs, horns climb in through the window from time to time, and loops and computer noises buzz about in layers. At times the album is so full and sonic it isn’t difficult to imagine Nigel Godrich having had a hand in the production. At the same time, songs like “Diamonds in the Face of Evil” are more than a little reminiscent of Tom Waits’ later work, an artist whose influence is felt throughout the record.
This is not at all to say that Brock’s signature sound isn’t present however. On the contrary, a number of the songs, most notably of which is “Cat Faces,” are evidence of Brock’s constantly maturing, rather undeniable gift for matching evocative, cryptic lyrics with simple mournful melodies that linger in your head at least for days . . . and sometimes forever. The washy, thick, and mesmerizing quality of the last song, “So Long to the Holidays,” is reason enough alone for purchasing the album, and leaves you with the feeling that you have in fact finally heard something that you’ve never really heard before. From Brock, or any one else.
Also contributing to the success of Ugly Casanova is Brock’s collaborating with other friends and musicians (including members from both Califone and Black Heart Procession). Of particular interest is/are the other vocalist(s) on the record, whose delicate country warmth provides a welcome contrast to Brock’s sharper, more curt approach.
This is one of those records that grows on the listener with a slow but consistent gain. One could hear it once and discard it without a quip of the eye, but the more careful listener will enjoy spin after spin of uncovering lovely little finds amongst its layers that keep him or her coming back for more.

Hilltop Distillery – …Died in the Woods

In two liner-note phrases of its …Died in the Woods release, Hilltop Distillery provides us with this manifesto: “To gain personal and academic power we need to be able to write. This sample is meant only to clarify the concept.”
If liner notes were CD operating instructions, the ones written for this CD are not very helpful. In my experience, if you don’t get the liner notes, you’re probably not going to get the album. I’m assuming they need to write music to gain personal and academic power, but what are these powers? Is it confidence? Craft? What are they talking about? And the “sample,” (I’m assuming by this they mean the CD), is meant to clarify what concept? The concept of writing to gain academic power? Whatever.
Just by the band’s name, you might assume that Hilltop Distillery, a trio from Kentucky, would favor country and bluegrass music. The liner notes, on the other hand, suggest something different, more difficult to listen to. As soon as the disc starts spinning, it’s obvious that there will be absolutely nothing on this remotely related to Bill Monroe. Nope, this is pure experimental music bouncing frenetically between jazz and progressive rock.
So here’s the skinny: …Died in the Woods is an improvisational work composed of nine distinct compositions. In each composition, the trio jams within whatever musical theme gets picked. With bent notes, chugging riffs, and curious rhythms, the musicians combine, albeit cleverly, merely to create musical introductions that range from two to 10 minutes in length.
If you require melody, or at least the promise of melody, this disc will not be a good fit for your collection. Each track here is nothing more than a sound “piece” that only adds to a crowded museum filled with “artsy” experimental music. For devoted experimental music enthusiasts, I can’t say whether or not Hilltop Distillery adds anything new to the art form. But for the rest of us casually curious, …Died in the Woods is just a monotonous puzzle.

The White Stripes – Elephant

These days, when an artist is heaped with praise, hype, and rave reviews, the result is usually quite predictable: the artist, unable to live up to near-impossible expectations, implodes before being crushed by a media backlash. Occasionally, however, a miracle occurs. The White Stripes, despite a constant stream of hype and publicity that’s followed them since last year’s White Blood Cells, have managed to release a follow-up album that not only meets expectations, it blows them away.
Elephant is good. Really good. It is catchy, fun, and addictive. There is no greater compliment for an album than to have it hog your CD player for days on end while piles of newer discs stack up beside the stereo, unplayed in their shrink wrap.
The first four seconds of the disc are as great an album intro as you’ll find, anywhere. The bass line for “Seven Nation Army” will surely sell more copies of Elephant than any brother-sister/husband-wife publicity scandal could ever hope to. Thankfully, the rest of the album is equally as solid. Jack rocks out, 1960s blues style, on tracks like “Ball and a Biscuit” and “Girl, You Have No Faith in Medicine.” Both tracks are enticing sex and drug glorifications that seem, strangely, almost quaint in a psychedelic devil-worshipping sort of way.
Jack deftly handles a cover of Burt Bacharach’s “I Don’t Know What to Do with Myself” and makes it fit as comfortably on the album as any other track. Meg White takes lead vocals for “In the Cold, Cold, Night,” and her stark, crisp singing is a wonderful shock to the system after the previous feedback-ridden tracks. Elephant ends in a quirky mass of ambiguous love confessions with “Well it’s True That We Love One Another,” an acoustic ballad that features alternating conversational vocals between Jack, Meg, and guest Holly Golightly.
Sure, the fact that the entire album was performed and recorded on 1960s-era equipment (“No computers were used during the writing, recording, mixing or mastering of this record,” says the insert) wins major cool points. So does the continuing use of the red and white theme. The coolness factor becomes irrelevant, however, when the music is this damn good. Elephant is a classic rockin’ good time. Crank the bass and enjoy.

The Donnas – Spend the Night

There’s not much to say about The Donnas that hasn’t already been said – by just about every teen girl magazine, from Teen People to Seventeen. This candygirl quasi-punk quartet has been a ubiquitous media presence ever since “Take it Off,” the first single from their Atlantic debut, began topping the charts and popping up in commercials, selling everything from Budweiser to Target merchandise. Although Atlantic’s sleek marketing sensibility has worn some of the punk/rock edge off it, Spend the Night earns its hype, proving The Donnas can rock as hard as any of their male colleagues.
What tickles me most about The Donnas is that it took four gum-snapping girlie-girls, who unabashedly swap makeup tips with Vanity Fair, to spit out one of the more grating, raucous rock/punk albums of the last six months. There’s no pretentious purple hair or ripped up fishnets here, and definitely no cutesy, Eyeliners-esque whines; from growling vocals to a cracking cowbell, The Donnas keep the girl-next-door image rough and ready to tumble. Song titles like ‘You Wanna Get Me High” and “Take Me to the Backseat” should say it all.
Of course, this all sounds a little immature, and Spend the Night is, like high school keggers and those awkward backseat make-out sessions. The Donnas’ party attitude is likely what gets them mistakenly lumped into the punk category and, also like high school parties, is easily outgrown. Alike to the point of numbness, the songs quickly turn flat, losing their snap, and after a week, I was thoroughly sick of the cheap beer, sex, and smack. To keep Spend the Night from dulling, The Donnas need to play around with their sound, altering the song speeds or changing the pattern and lyrical content.
Spend the Night is a great album to have in any collection, if only for its emasculated ego and power-chord nonsense. Check it out if you’re looking for something light and fun for late-night cruise sessions, but don’t expect anything more. My copy got tossed into my forgotten Guns N Roses collection after a week.

Waterdown – The Files You Have on Me

As shown here on The Files You Have on Me, Waterdown is almost anything but watered down. Now, I am aware that some clever reviewer has probably already used a comparable opening line in his or her writing about this, the German outfit’s second full-length with Victory, but it was the first thing that popped into my squishy little brain, so I am going with it.
This is full-on rock with a heavy hardcore and metal feel, abandoning all subtleties and going straight for the jugular. The vocals are a crucial part of the album, as the two singers crank out their heavily emotional social and political commentary in two extremely unique manners. One of them has a raspy growl that will haunt you in your sleep, while the other has a polished croon he occasionally belts out in the style of an old-school metal frontman. Sometimes this strategy works, and sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes the two varying vocal styles slip together nicely, and sometimes they cause enough friction to start a fire. The opening “Bulletproof,” as well as others like “Dodging Bullets,” are great examples of what can happen when the band is really on top of its game. The guitar work takes a similar approach, sometimes allowing the melodies to stand alone in the spotlight, other times shoving them out of the way so the chugging distortion can hog all the attention.
At times, it almost feels like this is a band with a multiple personality disorder. Songs like “A Fortress,” “Going Back,” “Disgrace,” and “Interrogation” are so dark and brutal that it hurts a little, but there are many interesting contrasts. “Xerox” is a deeply brooding lullaby of sorts, “Transient” is about as close to power-pop as a heavy band like this can get, and “Nothing” has a predictable pop-punk feel to it that makes it one of the least interesting tracks offered. Meanwhile, “Decaffeinated” is a sugary sweet love song, sounding like an amped-up Jimmy Eat World of sorts, and “13″ ends the album as an atmospheric and lovely instrumental piece. Tunes like “Nails All Broken Short” and “At the Waterfront” offer a happy medium, comparable to the saturated nu-metal of the past couple of years.
The most impressive part is the fact that the album was supposedly recorded via live cuts, despite the fact that the songs are so complex and articulate in structure that you would assume they required multiple takes and overdubs. The guitar layers are deeply woven and beautiful, the rhythm section is capable of stopping and starting with hardly any notice, and the give and take of the alternating vocals is impressive. The only problem is that there may be a tad too much polish slathered on, as the intensity that should just plain ooze from a band like this is choked out a bit. The band does a fine job of keeping a leash on its aggression and putting it to good use, but the songs just don’t seem to be allowed to pummel you like they want to.
One of two things will come as a result of you hearing The Files You Have on Me. Either you will find the album to be too aggressive and you will walk away from it to head for the medicine cabinet and get yourself a handful of aspirin, or you will be growling and pounding along by the time it is finished and will then crank up the volume knob a couple of more notches and start it all over. It just seems like one of those albums you will either love or hate, and I obviously can’t tell you how to react.

The Thermals – More Parts Per Million

Singer Hutch Harris began writing Thermals songs in his kitchen during the spring of last year. By the time summer rolled around, he had put together a real live band, featuring Kathy Foster (who also plays with Harris in the twee-pop duo Hutch & Kathy, as well as in the All-Girl Summer Fun Band) on bass, Jordan Hudson (who plays with the instrumental act Operacycle) on drums, and Ben Barnett (the only permanent member of Kind of Like Spitting) on guitar. After playing some shows that summer, the band signed a three-record deal with Sub Pop, quickly bringing about the debut, The Moss Motel, recorded by Harris on a four-track in his home and mixed by Death Cab for Cutie’s Chris Walla. That pretty much brings you up to speed, so now we can move along to the album at hand, More Parts Per Million.
If you’re a fan of distortion, lookie here! It’s slathered all over the place, resulting in a very lo-fi garage feel that makes some bands sound immature, but it makes the Thermals sound warmer and fuzzier than anything you’ll hear for a while. Harris’ vocals ooze with emotion and frustration, sounding like a pepped-up teenager howling about his shitty day. Barnett’s guitar just soaks you in fuzzy warm hooks, while the spastic but tight combination of Foster and Hudson fly along with scrappy little rhythms that are certain to have your head bobbing. The end result of all this is like a vintage indie rock band (see Sebadoh, Guided by Voices, et cetera) playing tiny little pop songs for an elementary school audience. I don’t mean they are childish and immature, but they are highly energetic and refuse to sit still. They have short attention spans as well, as the songs come in quick little bursts, with the lengthiest of these 13 tracks clocking in at two and a half minutes. And there is a swagger to the whole thing that makes the songs sound a bit snotty, blended with an undeniable danceability that will have you shaking your ass all over the room.
It’s messy and it’s fun. Sometimes pop music isn’t meant to be cleaned up and polished to death, and here is proof of that.

Bat Eats Plastic – Pounding Heart

What do you get when you combine a blend of the raw rock n’ roll best exemplified by The Cramps and a smidgen of pop and experimentation? Well, the final result is likely to be similar to the musical concoction that Bat Eats Plastic arrives at.
Bat Eats Plastic is a New York rock band that features guitarist David McClelland, who previously played in Craw (Hydrahead Records). Vocalist/guitarist Millie Benson has been compared to the likes of Liz Phair. These comparisons are not totally out of place; however, her voice does not appear to have the range of an artist of that caliber. While her vocal duties are solid enough to do the job with this outfit, they seem to wither every so often. With that said, her chops do deliver the proper amount of melody for her group’s brand of high-art rock.
The tone of this record is rather straightforward. For the most part, the band stays in its own universe. But those looking for virtuosity might be disappointed. That’s not to say that the instrumentalists are poor. Rather, all of the players are competent and appear to bring the best out of each other. For instance, a track like “Sometimes the Day” offers a day-dreamesque combination of light pop and jangly rock with enough room for variation in tempo and shifts in guitar dynamics. “City Beat” also changes things up a bit with its bass-driven verses while also delivering variant guitar riffs.
With that said, the band predominantly sticks to the same formula throughout the record, leaving the listener a bit tired by the end of the album. Though the band is obviously comprised of talented individuals, these New Yorkers need to inject more energy into their musical medley if they want to truly succeed. Of course, this lack of spunk might be due to the sound of the recording. In many cases, bands are more exciting live than on record. But if this band wants to set itself apart from its contemporaries the artists have to find a way to translate some enthusiasm into their recordings.

Rob McColley – Juicy

First of all, let me start by saying this is one of the quirkiest records I have heard in a long time, and it has a cover that has had me throughly confused. Rob McColley has released records under the name A Boy Named Laurie, and this is his fourth release. McColley has a knack for creating pretty pop songs of many varieties and then topping them off with humerous, sometimes crude, lyrics. This CD has a very strange humor to it, and at times McColley sounds fully serious.
“Green for Danger” starts the disc off with a surf-inflected, spy movie theme song tinged tone with some great lead and backing vocals. There is also some pretty horn accompaniment and a slight lounge vibe to the song as well. “Roma” has a rompish feel to it carried along by some simplistic piano twinkling and fun vocals. There are some very cool breaks in the song, adding different feels untill the music picks up again.
“Turning Curious” is one of the ruder songs on the CD but also one of the most enjoyably hilarious. The song contains one of the most classic rude choruses, and you can feel McColley winking as he delivers the lyrics. “You C*nt” again carries some timeless lyrics about someone who isn’t thought of too highly. In my opinion you can’t help but smile at lyrics like “you cunt / you are bad / your name is synonomous with people like you / who are bad / who are cunts.” “One Aardvark” is a bizzare tale of an unfortunate rapist who goes too far in his insatiability and gets busted for violating an Aardvark. No matter how outrageous the subject, you can hear the fun the people involved are having and it’s contagious.
No matter how far McColley stretches humor, it never becomes too offensive, where it possibly could in someone’s less skilled hands. It all seems tongue in cheek, and it’s hard not to laugh or smile along with it. McColley also proves he can write a good tune, crafting wonderful pop backings that stretch a wide range of sounds. This is just a downright fun recording, it’s very catchy and infectious. Not for the easily offended or humorless; if you don’t fit into those categories then jump right into Juicy.

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