The Candies – Dense Waves Make Your Eyes Wider

The Candies is a three-piece band coming from Italy with their second release. They share a lot of common with fellow countrymen Blonde Redhead, and their brand of controlled chaos. They perform some tight post-punk but also know the dynamics of songs going soft to loud on occasion. They are adept musicians with a thing for hidden melodies, which would otherwise tend to get lost in noise.
“Like Tennis Shoes” starts off with some jagged guitar and bass playing off each other while the vocals erupt. Guilio Cavalino has an interesting vocal approach that is hard to understand; the lyrics might not have the best grasp of English, but they are pretty incomprehensible. “Basslines for Your Fucking Grave” has monster bassplaying as the title would suggest, and it is accompanied nicely by chanted vocals. The bass is centerstage here, while the guitar chords in the background and the drums power along.
“Being Togeter” sports a skronky punk guitar with fast-paced strumming, as the drumming of Giordano Rizzato gallops along at high speed. The song has a very anxious feel to it that is pulled off nicely, especially with the yelping vocals. “You Fly While Driving” starst off nice and solemnly, creating some tension before exploding quick guitar and manic drumming and shouterd soaring nasal vocals. The bands raucous, yet tightly focused sound is to the fore and quite pleasing as the song ends in a quick stop.
The Candies are quite good, even if what they do is not totally original or has been done better beforehand. The vocals are occasionally wearing, but they play nicely with the music and set the emotion for the band to follow. The songs chug along at a quick pace and are quite amusing, especially the powerful drumming. It’s nice to have a record that doesn’t overstay it’s welcome, and at under 30 minutes it knows its limits and serves to it being better than much else around recently.

The Rubinoos – Crimes Against Music

First, a confession – I really don’t know that much about power pop as a genre. It’s history, founders, major breakthroughs, yadda-yadda. I pretty much draw a blank on all of it. So if you’re a fan, I apologize in advance. Now, on we go…
Apparently, when the Rubinoos debuted in 1977, they were a big deal and sold a whole bunch of records. They toured with bands like Elvis Costello, were all over TV and pop festivals in Europe and the US, were friends with guys in the scene, and were generally considered to be a good, fun power-pop group. Then they sort of split up in the mid-80s, until the power-pop resurgence of the 90s, when two or three of the original members got back together to record and release some original material as well as some older B-stuff that was never released. They even netted a top-10 mention on Billboard for their album titled Basement Tapes.
This brings us to the present day, where we find the Rubinoos – John Rubin (vocals, guitar), Tommy Dunbar (guitar, keyboards, vocals), and Al Chan (bass, vocals) – teaming up with some new faces to bring us an album of cover songs. These are songs that influenced the Rubinoos when they were young and songs they love and cherish. It’s obvious when you listen to the disc they are having some fun with them, too. All the tracks are made-over with the Rubinoos’ great harmony vocals and shimmering guitar work.
Some of the standouts include the Eurythmics tune “Thorn in My Side,” Elvis Costello’s “Pump it Up,” The Flamin’ Groovies “Shake Some Action,” and Del Shannon’s “Hats Off to Larry.” If you’re a power pop fan and you like the idea of hearing an obviously skilled band run through some great tunes, then this disc is for you. If you’re a Rubinoos fan, then this is probably a no-brainer. If you’re neither of the above, this disc will not probably hold a lot of attraction for you.

Copeland – Beneath Medicine Tree

Photographs of hospital beds, gurneys, broken wrists, and various hospital equipment adorn the inside pages of Copeland’s first full-length release, Beneath Medicine Tree. As they were recording the album, lead-man Aaron Marsh’s girlfriend was in the hospital with lupus, and his grandmother had recently passed away. The concept of strength through pain is somewhat loosely kept throughout these 11 tracks, with tracks like “Coffee” and “Walking Downtown” keeping it from being labeled a concept album.
One aspect, however, does remain constant throughout this entire CD: superb songwriting. The wonderful piano ballad, “Brightest,” introduces this very capable young band from Atlanta. The vocals softly soar, only momentarily flipping into falsetto as Marsh sings “She says that I am the brightest little firefly in her jar.” The somewhat trite lyrics are easy to forget in this beautiful opening track. Threatening a top-heavy album, “Testing the Strong Ones” is a more powerful track that hits the concept squarely. The blurry guitars leisurely chug in unison under the vocals, setting the perfect mood. From there, the album keeps getting better. “Priceless (For Eleanor),” with its rich layers and folky guitar refrain, grows on you until it becomes your favorite track.
“There Cannot Be a Close Second” starts off lackadaisically then blows you over with the urgency of the chorus: “When you look at me / There can be no hesitation / There cannot be a close second to you.” The cohesiveness of this quartet is apparent on this track, very impressive for such a new band. “Coffee” will have Midwestern-kids crooning along in no time, as well as garnering the spots of countless female-fans that cant seem to find a guy they like in their respective small-town schools. The most probable candidate for single of the album is “Walking Downtown,” an instant sing-along, with more enthusiasm and energy then any of the previous tracks.
Copeland is poised to become as big as they want to be; they play together incredibly well, have the perfect vocalist, and have lyrics that can easy tap the collective hearts of their listeners. So if you liked Dashboard Confessional before they got popular (and/or after), definitely check out Copeland.

Hollis – Sound

Dallas may not be currently considered a hotbed of indie rock activity, and Tulsa even less so, but the former boasts Deck Sachse and the latter claims Scott Griffith, the two leading lights of Hollis. As the geographical separation hints, the pair converged only recently after having established themselves separately. Right from the start of their debut, Sound, the marriage seems utterly natural. In most such cases, there is either tension between differing musical impulses (John Lennon and Paul McCartney) or a domination of one over the other (Lou Reed and John Cale, Bryan Ferry and Brian Eno), but even with songwriting combinations that mix and match Griffith, Sachse, bassist Jay Blakey, and several other miscellaneous writers, Sound has a fine sense of continuity and purpose.
What the purpose of Hollis is, though, remains subtle throughout Sound. At first listen, they don’t stand out dramatically from any number of other acoustic-heavy folkie groups, but various elements pop out from time to time that help Hollis avoid simplistic categorization. The most striking of these is Griffith’s drumming. Though he sounds muted by Hot Rods or something similar, Griffith stays active enough throughout that he could even be accused of rocking, a rare charge in such a low-volume genre. Second, Hollis as a whole thankfully eschews both of the deadly poles of the mellow strummers, namely vain self-pity and equally vain inspirational singing (also known as I-can’t-figure-out-how-to-live-my-life rock and I’ve-figured-out-how-to-live-my-life-and-everyone-else’s-too rock, respectively). The lyrics are mostly obscured behind a sheen of reverb, but the words that do come through combined with the lyrical delivery itself suggest an admirable modesty. Hollis’ songwriting is simple and unpretentious without being boring and keeps things moving along with understated grace.
Understatement, however, may prove to be Hollis’ great shortcoming. They require more attention than they are likely to get to make the kind of impact they’re capable of, and even though Hollis comes across quite nicely in headphones with nothing competing for attention, they would have a hard time grabbing ears as an opening act or if Sound were playing quietly in a coffeehouse. It’s a shame, of course, and no fault of the band that subtlety in music almost always loses out to ham-fisted vulgarity. It would be nice to see Hollis carve out a comfortable niche for themselves, but the space allotted for music like this seems to be shrinking all the time. They’re worth cheering on, though, and stranger things have happened than a talented band catching a break. So good luck to Hollis, who probably needs some.

Risk Relay – Low Frequency Listener

I spent the first 20 minutes listening to Risk Relay’s solid debut Low Frequency Listener trying to resolve a nagging question that kept coming back to frustrate me, a question whose answer still eludes me despite a flurry or three of brain racking that yielded no results. Just who the hell do these guys sound like? This is one of those albums that seem instantly recognizable and comfortably familiar, but when you try to pinpoint any one particular band as a source, you’re left at a loss, clutching at straws.
For the record, Risk Relay are a loud and aggressive post punk quartet from New Brunswick, New Jersey that combine slashing angular guitars with tight breakneck rhythms to create voracious music that is strong and defiant. For reasons I cannot fully explain, Risk Relay remind me strongly of Steve Albini’s ex-group Rapeman, not so much in the music, but tonally there is some of that thick dry twang in the guitars and deep throbbing boom in the drums that goes right for the gut. Singer and guitarist Ed Dailey also has that Albini scowl and growl down pat complete, with the offbeat phrasing and odd, stream-of-consciousness lyrics that are part wry humor and part seething disgust. Musically the band seems more interested in emulating the twisted, writhing guitar flurries of Unwound mixed with a healthy dose of DC-style post punk tension-and-release. Bands like The Crownhate Ruin and Hoover come to mind, as does early Fugazi, which is, to say the least, some pretty darn good company to be keeping.
But despite these obvious touchstones, Risk Relay manages to stand out on their own with an impressive combination of intelligent songwriting, impassioned playing, and, yes, some risk taking. The furious opener, “C is for Conspire, D is for Desire,” and the scorching follow up, “The Terror of Closet Patriots,” prove that Dailey and fellow guitar slinger Mark Weinberg are well-versed in the art of dueling guitars, churning out thick coils of intertwining riffs and competing melodies that are brimming with manic intensity. The rhythm section is equally potent. Drummer Brian Buccellato, in particular, is an animal, pounding out his staccato beats and polyrhythmic explosions with tremendous skill and precision. On “The Hub City,” he is a virtual one-man wrecking crew annihilating everything in his path. Bassist Steve Merritt’s steady grooves and serpentine bass lines are the glue that hold everything together and keep it from tearing apart at the seams.
Admittedly, much of Low Frequency Listener eventually becomes a blur. Risk Relay is all about energy and volume and have little patience for things like subtlety or restraint. There are plenty of dynamics to get your adrenaline pumping, but after a while, the incessantly driving guitars and relentless rhythms begin to get derivative, and one song becomes indistinguishable from the next. It would do the band some good to interject some slower, softer material every once in a while for color and texture, but at eight songs there is not enough material for the listener to get bogged down or overwhelmed. All in all, this is a promising debut.

Taking Back Sunday – Tell All Your Friends

Taking Back Sunday are geniuses – they have created an album that everyone loves, toured extensively with bands like From Autumn to Ashes, Midtown, and Boxcar Racer, and they have really great merch (belts, binders, bags, and more)! On top of it all, Taking Back Sunday put on one amazing, energy-packed, sing-along-filled live show. If you don’t already have a copy of their debut full-length release, Tell All Your Friends, then you are seriously missing out on one of the greatest bands to land themselves a spot in the music scene today.
Tell All Your Friends is 10 tracks of angst-ridden screamo with a sonically pleasing punk-pop edge. The songs are catchy but not poppy, and the lyrics speak to anyone who has ever had a relationship, a friend, or a family. In other words, everyone will identify with the lyrics. Take for example this verse from “Cute Without the ‘E’ (Cut From the Team)”: “Hoping for the best just hoping nothing happens / A thousand clever lines unread on clever napkins / I won’t ever ask if you don’t ever tell me / I know you well enough to know you never loved me.” As if that isn’t painful enough, the song really rips into your heart at the end when the line, “Why can’t I feel anything from anyone other than you,” is repeated over and over. Show me one person who has never felt this way before and I will never write another review again. Taking Back Sunday’s lyrics are self-deprecating and self-conscious, but they are what every human being feels at some point in their life. Each line is sung (or screamed) with precision and pain from the alternating voices of Adam Lazarra and Shaun Cooper.
Taking Back Sunday started out as a small band from long Island, NY that no one had heard of. But with the aforementioned tours, exposure on MTV2, and plenty of word of mouth, Taking Back Sunday are gradually taking over the emo-core music scene. From feeling fortunate enough to play to a group of 30 kids, Taking Back Sunday are now selling out concerts all across Canada and the United States. There is definitely a buzz about the band, and it doesn’t look like it will die down any time soon.
With all that being said, I can safely say that you will like Taking Back Sunday and you will not regret buying Tell All Your Friends. This album will never win a Grammy award – it probably won’t even win an MTV award – but that doesn’t mean it’s not one of the best albums of the year. There is no doubt that Taking Back Sunday will go down in emo history as one of the greatest bands of our generation.

The Red Hot Valentines – Calling Off Today EP

With their three-song EP, Calling Off Today, The Red Hot Valentines prove just how “red hot” they can be (excuse the obvious cliché). Having shared a stage with the likes of Alkaline Trio and Superdrag, The Red Hot Valentines clearly have something going for them.
Calling Off Today offers three songs packed with incredibly catchy hooks laced over equally catchy rhythms and vocals. The only problem with Calling Off Today is that it is too short; the tracks barely even scratch the surface of the Red Hot Valentines’ full potential. As a result, you’re left feeling unsatisfied and wanting more, which, for The Red Hot Valentines, is a sign that they must be doing something right.
Whether it’s their upbeat songs, honest lyrics, or harmonious vocals, The Red Hot Valentines are on their way to becoming as influential as former label mates Braid, Rainer Maria, and Mates of States. The Red Hot Valentines are reminiscent of a younger, less country Get Up Kids mixed with a less cheesy Anniversary. The band has what it takes to make a name for themselves in the emo-pop scene, now if only they would release a full-length album to prove it!

Zongamin – S/T

Though the critics will smirk when comparing Japan’s Zongamin to Godzilla, if the ensemble were reptilian in any way, it would be more accurate to call them chameleons. “Ensemble” is also a very misleading term. While supported by a number of backing players on this self-titled full-length, Zongamin is essentially Susumu Mukai, a trained illustrator and artist with an obvious knack for crafting a unique blend of dance music, rock, and electronica. For lack of a better word – or in an attempt to put a brand-name on it – the record could arguably be called one of the first documents of “post-disco.”
Ever the chameleon, however, Mukai manages to take us in just 12 songs on a drug-induced roller coaster ride through all that modern electronica has to offer, and then some. Trying to peg down distinct or defining moments is like racing someone through a museum and then later asking them for a dissertation on Renaissance painting: what sticks are merely the passing impressions.
The album-opening Arrows cover “Make Love Not War” could even make the machines of Servotron drool. It’s an upbeat rock number with a scope and speed that could be linked to Devo as easily as it could be to modern surf rock. It’s followed by the bass-heavy Atari grooves of “Serious Trouble,” which hints at Trans Am. The beginning of “Street Surgery 2″ is a hybrid of Tortoise circa Standards and the lighter colors on the palette the Dust Brothers used in Fight Club. Carried along by a simple electronic drum beat and a turntable, the song makes random guitar noises and sound samples running in reverse all sound vaguely like a distorted sitar.
“Spiral” and “Double Dostiev” could be outtakes from Trans Am’s “Futureworld” period, percussion-heavy exercises not dissimilar from “Serious Trouble” that toy with the marching rhythms of 4/4 time. On “J. Shivers Theme,” Mukai lends an eerie whistle to vaguely Latin choruses, complete with bongos, tambourines, and trashy guitars. Though you thought you’d never hear this, it’s Esquivel and Ennio Morricone laughing while they toss back a cold one. The funk factor is cranked up to 11 Turtletoes-style on “Painless” and “Tunnel Music,” both capable of driving even the most straight-laced suit-and-tie businessman to sport some bright polyester slacks and wear a little coke spoon around his neck. The electric guitars, bass, and hand-claps of “Tunnel Music” are so funky, you almost feel guilty for enjoying it without laughing or dropping reference to Mr. Dirk Diggler.
The record, though, is not without its more aggressive and straight-forward moments. “Whiplash” is the most band-oriented piece on the record, a stripped-down but colorful punk number that depends mostly on the interplay of bass, drums, and occasional stabs of guitar. Think of Skin Graft’s Yona Kit, and you’re not far from a decent point of reference. Songs like “Whiplash,” however, are further offset by more abstract and ambitious electronica like “Trespasser,” which hints at the work of Oval; “New Song To An Old Story,” which could have been taken straight off Millions Now Living Will Never Die; and “Mummies,” the horror movie theme closer.
The real question, though: Is it any good? It’s one thing to be able to put together a record that feels like a patchwork or compilation of ambitious dance music and electronic fare. It’s another to have that work sell itself as an inventive work of original music. Zongamin’s full-length debut seems to prove itself on both fronts. Mukai is not always reinventing the wheel with his songs, but they still each seem to carry a clear vision and an oddly distinct sound. What’s most amazing about the record is how much of it is put together in the most basic and organic terms. Listen to it more than twice through, and you start to realize just how few electronics Mukai uses in his electronic dancescapes.
The rock fanatic who likes their music with lyrical verses, big choruses, and clear accent marks over the distorted guitar might have difficulty warming up to this cold-blooded chameleon. If you give the record a chance, though, it’ll never leave your CD player.

The Great Shakes – In the Ballroom EP

Last year, while many drooled over the latest offering from The Strokes, The Great Shakes were busy touring their hearts out and proving they were the real New York City act to keep on the radar. The band’s debut EP, picked up by college and independent radio, was an incredibly energized and distinct blend of 70s punk and trash rock, a snarled declaration that a new voice in guitar rock was taking form within the Metropolis. Well, 2004 is here and, not looking to be outdone by a pack of audiophiles struggling to claim the new year as their own, The Great Shakes drop an all-too-brief, three-song EP that previews its forthcoming full-length, Remake the Remakes. Without sounding like I’m on the Rich & Sexy payroll, if this EP is any indication of what’s to come from The Great Shakes, it might be a good idea to set up a sleeping bag outside your local record shop and pre-order a few dozen copies of the band’s pending Remakes.

The EP gets off to a rousing start with the title song, a track that bounces along through the sharp and carefully mapped interplay of two guitars, fretless bass, snarled vocals, and drums that pop with every snare hit. On the band’s debut, the Great Shakes exuded the bitter energy that fuels some of the best punk and trash but from the first track of In the Ballroom you get the sense there are more colors on the palette and more emotions percolating and rumbling under the surface here. The chorus of “In the Ballroom” is a great example of this: after the jagged stop-and-start of guitar and bass, the whole band falls into line for a catchy – even poppy – refrain where Darren sounds like his vocals could be borrowed from some classic Bowie track. For a band that could trade tips on juiced-up power chords with countless New York garage acts, that kind of scope is something that shouldn’t be written off just as productive wandering or clever experimentation. It’s the sound of a young band not only finding itself, but building on already impressive accomplishments.

The choppy 1-2-3-4 march of “In the Ballroom” bleeds right into “Riot,” where a slithering but funky bass line sets the tone for a rhythmic swagger that would do Jon Spencer and his blues-rock proud. As Darren’s voice gradually rises from composed delivery into a yell, the sway of the song changes, developing more punch and venom, before the band’s dueling guitarists – Stoley and J. Kenneth – abandon their interweaving leads and patterns and come crashing together. It’s here that Darren, who made some biting but vague political statements on the Shakes’ debut, tips his hand to the listener, spitting out lines that I can’t imagine applying to much beyond the current presidential administration. “Let’s start a riot, let’s start a war,” he screams. “So we can even the score, so we can get some more.” (Maybe it’s the cynic in me, but I just can’t help but imagine Colin Powell during his now-infamous weapons of mass destruction session every time Darren repeats, ad infinitum, “Distortions and the truth, we give it to you.”)

Drummer Don steals the spotlight in the early measures of the EP-closing “Residence,” doing his best Mac McNeilly impersonation and abandoning some of the more rock-steady but danceable beats of the record’s first two tracks for a bombastic and crashing intro. The Shakes follow suit, with Stoley and J. Kenneth trading barbed-wire guitar chords and toying with the give-and-take of Amazo’s pulsing bass lines. Again showing a growing dynamic range, The Great Shakes here resemble Brainiac and even early Skeleton Key, bands who didn’t/don’t use the roar of a guitar merely as wallpaper but instead wring the most of six strings by plotting unpredictable courses around complicated and even arty patterns of percussion, bass and vocals. And when was the last time you heard that about The White Stripes or any other band that’s tossed “The” before their moniker?

“Everything is coming down the pike again. Take it all for granted,” Darren moans during one of the bridges of “Residence,” soaring guitars behind him. If nothing else, In the Ballroom is an invitation to remember the former and not fall under the spell of the latter, a little fix to entice listeners and whet appetites for future Remakes. And, goddamn, ladies and gentlemen, does it work.

Broken Social Scene – You Forgot it in People

You hear that sound? That’s the bandwagon sound. More specifically, that’s the sound of people getting on the bandwagon. Jumping, grabbing, clutching, fighting their way on. The original members are doing their best to stomp at the grasping fingers of the hangers-on, as they never like it when their wagon gets too crowded. I got before this crowd of ruffians, to be sure, but not too early. My trip up was relatively uninhibited, though I got some awfully dirty looks, I had to pass a test, sign a waiver, and promise I would help them kick off other members. So this review here has to stay between you and me, ok? Because I’m going to furiously try to get you on this wagon.
Broken Social Scene released You Forgot it in People late last year, to a resounding thwump on the musical landscape. Sure, it garnered some pretty decent reviews from Toronto newspapers – words like “perfect pop album” were thrown around – but it went otherwise unnoted. Of course, when stateside zines started picking this baby up, things got rolling. They told the story – a Toronto-bred collective of disparate origins (A Silver Mt. Zion, Treble Charger, Do Make Say Think, and others) formed with the sole intent of lending their critical ears – and hands – to a pop music project. And they spread the word: you have to listen, because music this exquisite, this varied, and this realized can’t be done justice in print.
Now, the relative difficulty of producing an exquisite pop album is well documented. It can take years for a band to hone its craft, and that’s if the songwriting’s there. If it’s not, well, don’t even bother. So how is it that 10 or so musicians, most with no experience in the realm of pop music, could bond together and drop such a masterpiece? Well, to be honest, I have no clue. Fortunately, knowing how they did it isn’t my problem. All I have to do is preach from my exalted place on the bandwagon.
The album is like no other pop album you’ve ever heard. The variation in style and tone can be dramatic from one song to the next, but the level of quality suffers no such fluctuations. “Looks Just Like the Sun,” for instance, is unique in its rhythmic, soulful reggae styling, but the tropical, lounge-y instrumental that follows it, “Pacific Theme,” is equally inspired. Such is the way of the album. Mood pieces range from the ambient “Capture the Flag” to violent “Late Nineties Bedroom Rock for the Missionaries.” The melodic, low-end rumble of “Shampoo Suicide” is an exquisitely laid-back piece until a wailing background voice and whispering singer begin mingling over a heart-breaking keyboard line. The song ends in a wash of voices and ambience that is nothing less than heart wrenching.
More traditional songs work equally as well. “KC Accidental” is a percussive, lustful acceleration punctuated by a simple guitar riff. “Almost Crimes (Radio Kills Remix)” is glorious in its punk thrust – wailing female vocals answer a raspy male voice, both of them swimming in static. “Anthems for a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl” relies on a plaintive guitar lick and a lilting violin. It’s the only track to exclusively feature a female vocalist, and the childlike melody she sings is absolutely stunning, a moment of pure pop genius. “Cause = Time” sounds almost bitter, despite its uplifting melody and cutting lead guitar. It provides one of the album’s best moments when it slows down to crawl under layers of feedback. “Lover’s Spit” has a sort of accidental grandeur to it: pounding pianos and a crawling tempo that accents the song’s majestic melody, and they’ll make you forget about the odd lyrics too.
The brightest gem, however, is the grandiose rush of “Stars and Sons.” Opening with an escalating base line, the singer’s raspy voice lends an atmospheric quality to the song. The song is disrupted by blasts of noise and – get this – handclaps, but they only add to the mystery. When the song explodes into a fury of white noise and twisting feedback, the band’s complete mastery of pop music will come into clear focus.
So that’s it. I don’t even have a song to complain about. Everything on this album is exquisitely sequenced, produced, and performed. This album is pure pop, both in its unbelievable melodic execution and in its broad, undeniable appeal. The album sees release on June 3rd here in the states, so mark the date. That’s the day you start running after the bandwagon.

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