Watashi Wa – The Love of Life

Listening to this reminds me of summer. The long, languorous days spent beneath a sweltering sky inventing games to play, chasing down the echoing bells of the ice cream man, or just lying on the grass, staring at clouds and calling out the shapes to your friends. Easy, carefree days spent out of doors before the weight of the world snapped your back like a twig and the snotty punks you used to bully for lunch money started calling the shots. You can’t help but smile at the thought. Like waking up on that first morning of vacation and realizing that school will soon be a distant memory, the 12 songs on Watashi Wa’s The Love of Life are refreshing, invigorating blasts of rejuvenating bliss warm with nostalgia. That they have somehow shaken themselves free from the stagnant cynicism and negativity that has infected too much of the modern rock landscape is but a dizzying, welcome bonus.
The Love of Life marks the third release from the California-based quartet, although it is their first on a major indie label like Seattle’s Tooth and Nail. Stepping somewhat away from the more punk infused trappings that marked their earlier works, Watashi Wa have toned down the aggression and concocted a soothing blend of mellow modern rock and power-pop served sunny side up. There’s nothing on this album that is going to make you rethink the way that you view rock, but what’s here is sharp, tight and remarkably consistent. The opening track, “All of Me,” is the wise choice for the band’s first single with its wonderfully bright, ringing guitars intertwining ever so cleverly with singer/guitarist Seth Alan’s impassioned vocals. (Caution: Getting this song out of your head is a physical impossibility, so don’t say I didn’t warn you.) Other standouts include the anthemic “At It’s Finest” and “With Love,” which find Watashi Wa straddling the pop side of The Police fence, combining catchy, swirling guitars with bouncy rhythms and an elegant, poetic melodicism. For good measure, “Joanna” and the striking “Clear” focuses on the band’s strengths of marrying precision and emotion, while the closing piano strains of “Everything” is the soaring stuff of breathtaking beauty.
Quite honestly, I’m surprised that I dug this so much. To be critical, there are moments on The Love of Life when you’ll swear that you’re listening to the soundtrack to 7th Heaven, or Gilmore Girls, or some other WB tub-o-crap. Still, this is not empty bubble-gum guitar pop. For one thing, Alan’s thoughtful, probing lyrics and soulful delivery are damn near exhilarating. Add to that some inventive guitar work and a killer rhythm section that isn’t afraid to pursue the occasional off-kilter beat, and you got yourself something much deeper to work with. No, this is not bubble-gum at all. Watashi Wa are more like a gobstopper or a Jolly Rancher -harder and more difficult to bite into, but the flavor lasts a whole lot longer. Personally I like a little more doom and gloom with my rock, but this will do for a nice fix of the smiles.

Sufjan Stevens – Michigan

In the age of modern media, the distinction between art and commerce has never become more cloudy. Whether due to the unrefined gaze of those who feed entertainment to meet the stereotypical desires of the clamoring unwashed masses or the corrupting influence of money on personal expression, it’s hard to find artists who genuinely seem to be walking hand in hand with muses that aren’t trying to slip dollar bills in their back pockets. Certainly, too much can be made of the fact that David Bowie is the prototypical “musical chameleon,” but the point is well made. His brilliance lies in his ability to reinvent himself and push into new artistic realms, whether that path intersects with a demographic variable or not. And although he has only been around to release two full-length solo albums, Sufjan Stevens has already proven himself worthy of this lofty ideal. From the exotic, Middle Eastern folk tones of his debut (2000′s A Sun Came) to the sparkling electronic sound sculpting in 2001′s Enjoy Your Rabbit, with detours to take on the added role of banjo brother for the avant-garde carnival known as the Danielson Famile, Stevens is a man whose creative winds are constantly blowing in all directions. With Michigan, he may have delivered his definitive statement.
The first in a proposed 50-CD set, one to tribute each state in the union, Michigan is simultaneously a recombination and revision of the most notable of his talents and a staggering confirmation of his prodigious gifts as a songwriter and arranger. Joined by various members of the Danielson Famile (Daniel, Elin, and Megan Smith provide backup vocals) and the Sounds Familyre/Asthmatic Kitty extended family (Half-Handed Cloud’s John Ringhofer), the album gives every impression that it was a monumental project to coordinate, both conceptually and literally, as the Brooklyn transplant now revisits his Great Lakes past. As such, Steven’s personality is the undeniable prime mover in that mix, as he plays no less than 22 instruments and is the central character that the narratives revolve around, having been drawn either from his childhood or history of his home state. And, in general, his genius comes packaged in three variants: the hushed, pristine ballad, the complexly shifting lounge bop, and the lushly flowing pop song.
The opening “Flint (For the Unemployed and Underpaid)” falls into the first category, with sad, barely adorned piano phrases carrying Stevens’ hushed reedy croon pushing out a contemplative first-person account of disconsolate solitude and desperate joblessness. At once, it’s a gorgeous extension of the melodic gifts he’d only hinted at previously, with lines like “I forgot the part / Lost my hands to use my heart” providing painfully effecting imagery to match the tonal mood of the piece and make the sense of loss amazingly tangible. Another song of loss follows in short order, with “The Upper Peninsula,” where the imminent loss of both family and a way of life weigh down the funereal organ and intricate banjo finger-picking that form its sonic backdrop. The light, airy “Holland,” a song built on little more than strummed acoustic guitar and solitary piano strikes and his fragilely hushed voice tracing the minor key melody. With a recorder rising to add a slight Middle Eastern touch, the word “delicate” is almost too calloused an utterance with which to describe it. Similar is “Romulus,” a simple yet stirring reminiscence of childhood that presents a child’s sense of confusion and loss over a wayward mother, progression from internalizing the associated shame to placing it on the person who rightly deserves it. Obviously, from this arrangement, comedian Steve Martin’s claim that the banjo can’t provide the foil for sad music is proven wrong.
Just as impressive is Stevens’ range as a pop song arranger. The slight bossanova lilt of “All Good Naysayers, Speak Up! Or Forever Hold Your Peace!” and the similarly laboriously titled lounge pop of “Detroit, Lift Up Your Weary Head! (Rebuild! Restore! Reconsider!)” are almost impossibly complex, layering horns, pianos, guitars, and multi-part harmonies into obscure time signatures. Here, the narratives switch from the autobiographical meditations that matched the more solemn arrangements to mirror the complex history of the state, entertaining ideas of social progress while checking off a list of social ills and nostalgic trivia. For the most part, these tracks come closest to approximating the electronic intricacy of Enjoy Your Rabbit, shifting and bending into every ornate corner available. “They Also Mourn the Dead Who Do Not Wear Black (For the Homeless in Muskegon)” is a typically loose, jangly arrangement in this type, with the complicated swirl sweeping everything up in its dizzying twirl, leaving Stevens to meander through arrangements so split with nuance that his lyrics are broken not line by line, but often with a remaining word or even syllable simultaneously starting a new verse while completing the one that preceded it.
Somewhere between the austere simplicity of his balladry and shape-shifting arrangements are his soaring, near orchestral pop arrangements, typified by tracks like “For the Widows in Paradise, For the Fatherless in Ypsilanti,” a track where images of domesticity mingle with a rising tide of trumpet, piano, and harmonies in a triumphant and verdant arc. Stevens’ spirituality is inherent in the vaguely cloaked references in the hymn-like “Oh God, Where Are You Now? (In Pickeral Lake? Pigeon? Marquette? Mackinaw),” with his protagonist smashing all clichés in his sincere calling out for contact with an omnipresent deity over cymbal swells and regal trumpet drones. The closing “Vito’s Ordination Song,” a gorgeously meditative shuffle that twinkles and flows to the extent that it begins to blur and fold over on itself, is a fitting finale, fading out to leave the solemn simplicity and atmospheric ether of piano and trumpet.
It all adds up to an album that Stevens has admitted is largely too extravagant to perform in a live setting, even with the help of the 13-member Michigan Militia Choir that he has enlisted as his touring band. Rarely, have artists reinvented themselves so startlingly in the span of three albums, nor covering as much ground thematically and texturally as Stevens has to this point in his progression. Michigan is not only a tribute to a home state, nor an exploration of an artist’s past, but a fascinatingly universal examination of human existence wrapped in a sophisticated work of compositional craftsmanship. Add on the retro kitsch of the album artwork and you have an album that actually lives up to the amazing conceptual goals it has set for itself. In the end, it aspires to being no more than the highest ideals of pop music.

The Great Shakes – New York – Luna Lounge, NY – 2003-07-11

Mothers hid their daughters and gentlemen guarded their beers while in New York City recently, and for good reason. The Great Shakes were in town, making a lot of noise on their own home turf, and they were definitely looking to stir up some trouble.

New York’s latest response to the bland and over-produced junk cluttering up the charts, The Great Shakes took the stage of Luna Lounge on July 11 with one goal in mind: launching into a vicious and crowd-engaging set before they embarked on a tour of D.C. and the West Coast. Well … mission accomplished.

In front of a crowd that responded with shrieks and applause to most every noise the band was making, The Great Shakes ran through the entirety of their debut EP on Rich and Sexy with a vengeance but also provided a sizable glimpse of the new material on which they’ve been focusing. For those who have yet to hear it, the new songs are inviting, unexpected, and – for a New York band driven by dueling guitars – something a little strange to behold. While the quintet’s five-song debut was an engaging palatte of equal parts rock energy and attitude, punk venom, and trashy refrains, the new songs – at least live – were incredibly textured and more multi-dimensional.

Falling before, after, and all around crowd favorites like “Want/Got” and “Duty Free,” the band’s latest tremors still kicked and screamed, but did it with a peculiar attention to detail. Imagine, for a frame of reference, if Jon Spencer decided to step up and front Sonic Youth, all the while still hollering that all he wanted to do was get down. Of particular note were new songs like “Residence” – which closed the all-too-short set – all angular guitar riffs and crashing verses. Kids, this is the music that Brainiac’s Timmy Taylor is conceivably dancing to in the hereafter.

But while the band went through their new songs with a frightening precision and energy, what may have been the most interesting element of the evening was the chemistry the band displayed on stage and the madness frontman Darren displayed, of all places, in the crowd. The Great Shakes blaring away on stage, the singer – whose gestures during live performance seem to hint at that most infamous of Dead Kennedys, Mr. Jello Biafra – walked menacingly through the crowd, stealing drinks and stirring people up as he went. While far from the lunacy of a David Yow, the act worked, and the audience seemed to stand on edge throughout the band’s set as a result, waiting for any one of them to break the fourth wall and begin lounging around in the crowd. Luckily for those of us who wanted to finish our own drink, the rest of the band was perfectly content to knocking us off our feet from the stage.

Only a year and change after playing their first show in May 2002, The Great Shakes are set to see if West Coast crowds will be as taken with them as the fans who continue to pack bars and clubs where they’re playing in the Big Apple. If July 11 is any indicator, this is a band that’s not only going to knock over club-goers in Los Angeles, it’s a band that’s going to be making the rounds nationwide soon enough. Catch them in New York City before Darren has security guards at his feet and the only crime in your cocktail is the price you paid for it at the concession.

Toshack Highway – Magnetic Morning / Aspirin Age

The shoegazer movement of the late 80s and early 90s produced a cluster of creative guitar bands that gave rise to a sound and an oft-copied movement. Even looking back, more than 10 years later, it was an embarrassment of riches: the epic scale of Ride, the schizophrenia of Pale Saints, the goth hum of Slowdive, and My Bloody Valentine’s wall of saturation. Unfortunately, time has not treated these former bands well. Most of them imploded when grunge hit the airwaves, and those that didn’t (Ride, here’s lookin’ at ya) went on to release awful albums. Since then, things have not gotten much better. Ride guitarist Andy Bell took a dive with Hurricane #1, and Slowdive frontman Neil Halstead’s new project, Mojave 3, isn’t offensive, but let’s just say he’s not turning out great music anymore. And we all know the sad, slow fate of Kevin Shields and My Bloody Valentine.
Ah, but Swervedriver. Swervedriver was a different beast altogether. Formed in the height of Shoegazer’s popularity, the band went on making decent music well into the late 1990s. That being said, they were always an odd duck in the scene. Surrounded by bands who melted into sound and faded into the background, Swervedriver wrote actual songs, usually about cars, and dressed them in blistering psychedelia that pummeled and, well, swerved its way through the guitars. So it was no real surprise when frontman Adam Franklin’s side project, Toshack Highway, released the well-reviewed Toshack Highway three years ago. Sure, it was brimming with keyboards and – gasp – new textures and sounds, but it didn’t suck, and in the world of post-shoegazer band membership, that’s saying quite a lot.
So with one full-length already under his belt, Franklin and company took to recording the Magnetic Morning EP, and dragged along former Swervedriver tourmates Sianspheric for the ride. Franklin has once again shifted directions, though his signature melodies and automotive lyrics remain fully intact. The grand, sweeping “The Streets That Spin Off” sets the bar high for the rest of the EP: it’s a mostly acoustic arrangement lulls the drums into a sweet little breakbeat. Franklin’s vocals are majestic: he knows his range, and he maneuvers deftly around the strumming to create melodies that stir and bother. It’s not anything new, but Franklin has a keen sense of melody that grabs the ear. “(She’s Got) Celestial Navigation” is the most propulsive of the five tracks, and, not surprisingly, it veers closest to the territory covered by Franklin’s former band. The only difference, in fact, seems to be the strictly acoustic take on arrangement. “Cannery Row” moves along sluggishly, with the acoustic flush trumped by subtle keyboards and some pretty picking. “Country Grass” is the EP lowlight, as its self-conscious country overtones don’t do anything to improve the “hey, things get tough, but at least I’ve got this weed” tone of the lyrics. Fortunately, things pick up again at the end with the spot-on melody and hush of “The Sounds and Times.” It sounds like Elliot Smith before he turned all Elton John on us: a cigarette-sweet voice running pretty lyrics over deftly played acoustics.
Sianspheric, as it turns out, is still riding on Franklin’s coattails. The veteran Canadian troupe sounds like an amalgam of most of the bands mentioned in the first paragraph. “This All Happened” is a shameless Swervedriver rip, and it appears, inexplicably, that “Song For” might be a shameless Toshack Highway rip. “Beneath the Ocean Floor” begins grandly, a la Sigur Ros, but fails to back up the chiming guitars with any real melody or form. “No Space” is more ethereal still, though the band assumes the difference between “ethereal” and “unformed” is negligible. The title track gets small points for its charming, optimistic chord progression, but ultimately, this track as well fails to develop.
At the end of the day, we’re left with one EP that showcases a band moving towards an intriguing new sound, and another band still hashing out the tones of yesteryear. The ultimate purpose of this EP is to showcase Franklin’s underrated writing skills – his songs hold up beautifully, even under the most minimal circumstances. His direction is clear and his execution is encouraging. Sianspheric, on the other hand, is merely guilty of having too little direction. Shoegazer’s fine guys, but drifting and hovering should be a way to describe guitar sounds, not songwriting techniques. Fans of Swervedriver and Franklin will no doubt be pleased by this offering, but they should feel rightly betrayed by their hero for his company.

Various Artists – Swami Sound System, Vol. 1: 2003 Sales Report

John Reis of Rocket From the Crypt, Hot Snakes, The Sultans, Drive Like Jehu, Back Off Cupids, and Pitchfork fame offers up a sampling of previously released and unreleased material from all the bands on his label, Swami.
The legendary Sonny Vincent makes two appearances: “Its Only Death” from his late 70s punk group, Testors, and the driving “Psycho I.D.” from his upcoming solo album. Both show off Vincent’s ability to write memorable punk songs. After years of putting out records on obscure labels with poor distribution, hopefully more people will be able to learn more about him through Swami.
Of the three bands that John Reis is in, The Sultans take first prize, ripping through a crystal meth driven biker pop number titled “Whine, Cry, Bitch, Moan and Complain” with “U.S. Mint” by the Hot Snakes coming in at a close second. Unfortunately, the Rocket From the Crypt song, “California Lights,” is pretty paint-by-numbers RFTC.
“Noise International” from Loincloth comes from out of left field genre-wise because its a straight-up heavy metal instrumental, not like any of the other songs on the comp. It works well in the flow of the CD, cleansing the palette like a sorbet. Another standout track is “Mechanic’s Joy Ride” by Mannequin Piss. Fuzzed- out garage punk played the way it should: loud, thrashy and sloppy. Hopefully they’ll release some more stuff in the future.
Reis shows that he has the ear for picking out great music. Sure, these acts might not sell millions of copies, but more importantly, this is music that holds up and will most likely stand the test of time.

All Parallels – You Won’t Feel a Thing EP

Ladies and Gentlemen, get your umbrellas and raincoats ready because DJs and VJs alike will be pouring from the mouth for an opportunity to air All Parallels. The happily sadistic guitar hooks and wonderfully infectious lyrics of this Boston-based trio take on some of the most dark and adult situations typically not media-friendly to the mainstream outlets but presents them in such a sunny palette of post-hardcore happiness that their presence on the air will soon be unavoidable. With their current single “Marrow,” they display their skill for writing serious songs with serious content that is excellently delivered, yet they also have a humorous side featured in the hysterical songs “Nymphomaniac” and the tongue-in-check opus “Load a Gun and Kill Me.”

There is an undeniable presence with “Marrow,” featuring perfectly delivered lyrics from bassist and vocalist Larry Chiswick that are brilliantly written. The chorus is undeniably catchy and was stuck in my head for weeks on end. It is hard to imagine that with power like this on ALL tracks of this EP they have yet to be picked up by a major label, which is exactly where they belong. Being backed by a major label would only help prove to the world one thing that is commonly mistaken, that pop music can have a pair of BALLS!

All Parallels takes bits and pieces from pop rockers like Smash Mouth and Sugar Ray, but adds the missing ingredients of heavier guitars and some sack. Just because something is heavy doesn’t disqualify it from the pop arena and AP shows this possibility with unwavering confidence. This band governs the speakers with an iron fist and a velvet glove, showing extreme discipline with hardcore and punk-influenced guitar, yet evenly balanced with sunny, poppy guitars and elegant choruses.

I would hate to be in their shoes when selecting singles because absolutely every track they have is a worthy candidate. Many popular music artists only have one song that is good, proceeded by 14 or so other tracks of total crap that in no way stand up to the single. Although, in AP’s case, I can say confidently that they have a breath taking single with an entire arsenal of equally bad-ass music behind it. All Parallels is one of those few bands whom I honestly feel could not release a bad song. Prepare yourself because sooner than later All Parallels will be kings of the airwaves and their worthy, infectious twist on post hardcore will be inescapable, and rightfully so.

Bronze – Presence of Greatness EP

Members of the 80s Britpop band Hurrah! certainly have been busy – with new projects, that is. Hurrah! Singer/Guitarist David “Taffy” Hughes recently released an EP with his new band, the Candy Coloured Clowns. This week, former Singer/Guitarist Paul Handyside unveiled Presence of Greatness, comprised of four songs that sound remarkably similar to his former bandmate’s efforts and even features the same drummer, Adrian Evens.
Handyside’s release scores slightly higher than Hughes’ due to his stronger songwriting. The opening song, “Presence of Greatness,” has an 80s teen anthem feel to it but lacks any depth. Like most of the songs on this EP, it has a movie soundtrack feel along the lines of the Simple Mind’s “Don’t You (Forget About Me)” – but far less memorable.
Handyside has a pleasing urgency to his voice that uplifts the rather downbeat material. The ringing guitars and anthem choruses could be the new adult contemporary market. The song “How Long” is a reworking of the title track – almost indistinguishable in fact. “Where the River Flows,” a pleasing acoustic track, reminds me of the underrated British folk-pop band the Faith Brothers, who never released anything in the US. The last track, “Presence of Greatness (Acoustic),” is just what the title implies. It has more power when played acoustically and showcases Handyside’s voice.
While not for everyone, this should appeal to an older audience that somehow got stuck in a time warp and never grew past those 80s pop sounds.

All I See is Red – S/T

All I See is Red’s self-titled debut is one of many albums to come my way lately that revolve around cerebral instrumentals. This is music that borderlines on math-rock, but with no vocals and heavier roots in jazz and drawn out jams. This isn’t a bad thing – and in the case of Canadian group All I See is Red, it’s a good thing – but it is a style that will likely only appeal to very specific audiences. Albums like this one always have a sense that they are a completely organic evolution of modern day musicianship, largely because the focus is on the mood and the moment. It seems as though it’s all about creating a cohesive piece of music that truly represents the members’ understand of and interaction with one another.

Many albums such as this one come off as atmospheric – background music for other activities. True, All I See is Red is not going to command your full attention with vocals or anything else that is impossible to ignore. The key here is actually allowing oneself to fully absorb the music. The time changes and progressions are subtle, but it’s all here if you take a closer listen. Pay a little attention and the world that waits just under the surface will gently unfold before you.

The band is a four-piece comprised of bass, guitar, percussion, and saxophone. They offer up seven tracks on this release, each with unassuming nuances that separate one from the other. I’m drawn to the yearning build-up of the opening track “The Mystery of Peacock Falls” and the funky percussion of “Covert Groove.” I’m also intrigued by “Two Miles,” which ends the disc on an overall jazzy note and prominently features some gorgeous saxophone.

In the end, All I See is Red has made a completely solid effort with their debut that sets a nice framework for future releases. While I understand that there is a certain mood that the band was obviously aiming for – or at least the one that grew whether intended or not – I’d almost like to hear what they could accomplish if they just let loose a little more and allowed their groove to run along slightly more primal lines. Still, I greatly enjoyed their debut, and whether this is approached as a backdrop for other activities or the center of attention it is sure to be pleasing.

The Umbrella Sequence – Sparkler Cliché

Being a native of the city of Minneapolis for approximately a year and a half, I’ve had a chance to check out my fair share of local bands in the area. After months of relentless searching for memorable acts, I could only come up with a handful of artists that I felt had the potential to achieve a widespread success. Fortunately I was able to add another to my small but growing list while I was attending a local bar show in the month of May. Normally one does not expect opening bands to be anything great; they usually just fill the slot with musicians that are barely able to tune their guitars – let alone write anything of substantial quality.
I was pleasantly surprised when a band I later came to know as The Umbrella Sequence started their set with epic, melodic rock that really captivated the entire audience. I knew there was something special about these, guys but yet I couldn’t put my finger on was it was exactly. The group has not been around a long time but has slowly but surely started to make a name for themselves in this town; they’ve played shows with Elliott, III Lit, and local favorites A Whisper in the Noise and Kid Dakota. In March of 2003, after months of hard work, the band released their debut full-length, Sparkler Cliché, an intricate soundscape showing influence from bands like Radiohead, Grandaddy, with the occasional spacey elements of Sigur Rós.
The album is centered on frontman Ryan Rupprecht who can usually be found singing quite passionately while banging away at his Fender Rhodes piano. Guitarists Jake Swogger and Nick Sander add plenty of intricate harmonizing effects into the mix, making wide use of delay and other effects. Ryan Masterson plays bass lines that are full and add a lot to the overall sound of the band. The drummer, Aaron Hagebak, plays tight rhythms with lots of intricate stickwork as well.
Things begin nicely on the first track “The Disappearing Line” with a darkened melodic piano part while Rupprecht lulls the listener with softly sung vocals. He’ll hate me for saying this, but the ThomYorke influence is definitely noted – I don’t consider this to be a bad thing. I remember this song from their live performance and really enjoyed both Swogger’s and Sander’s intricately delayed guitar lines. It’s a short song that blends nicely into “Athena,” which adds a bit of subtle electronics amongst the hypnotic Fender Rhodes piano. The group is quite good at adding additional layers and this makes for one of the more memorable songs on the record. Introspection is the key on “Factories Make Colors Possible” with soft acoustic guitars and passionate vocals. “Penny Blue” is somewhat reminiscent of Parachutes-era Coldplay with beautifully constructed guitar chords that chime nicely between Masterson’s bass lines. It progresses nicely with lead guitar parts that provide a lot of the emotion in the song.
Other notable tracks include “So Shine Sunshine,” which contains a dualistic melody of brightened and darkened quality. “Water and Repeat” is a really nice soundscape that takes on more of an almost post-rock melodic form but works nicely with Rupprecht’s vocal styling; the Fender Rhodes is indeed an amazing instrument. “Walz of Thaughme” is a fascinating track that brings back memories of The Black Heart Procession’s 2, with its almost circus-like melody. Things end really nicely with “The Glass Staircase,” an instrumental piece showcasing beautiful an almost ethereal analog synthesizer sound.
The Umbrella Sequence is a perfect example of one of those bands that exists in every city that is making great music but operating under the radar. These Minneapolis kids have a lot of potential, and I’m sure they’ll increase in popularity and eventually get hooked up with a label in the near future. In the mean time, I will continue to enjoy their CD and will hopefully be able to catch an equally amazing live performance soon.

Francine – 28 Plastic Blue Versions of Endings Without You

This album was talked up to me before I even received it, so I admit to having high expectations. And the thing is, from the opening notes of the bulkily titled 28 Plastic Blue Versions of Endings Without You, I was impressed. But over the course of 13 songs, the band threw me for a loop a few times, and thus my overall impression is mixed. While this is clearly a talented band with some fantastic songs, there’s a few miscues here that spoil the overall effect of 28 Plastic Blue Versions…
The key here is effect: on their second album, Francine has definitely gone for a moody, introspective approach. Their songs are quite rich – from frontman Clayton Scoble’s rich voice to the nice mixture of keyboards and guitars, hinting at folky and roots rock approaches while keeping the songs firmly grounded in the kind of melancholy indie rock I love so much. Jack Drag’s production work has brought out some unique elements to the band, and it may be his touches that give the songs their unique flare, from the bossa nova, almost psychedelic feel of the lovely “Inside Joke” (Blake Hazard adds backing vocals on this one) to the retro-psychedelic-pop of the catchy “Nascar.”
“Technical Books” is a languid, softly flowing and beautiful song, with some unique electronic sounds providing an odd backdrop to the mid-tempo pace and Scoble’s soft vocals. They get about as rocking as sounds natural for them on “This Sunday’s Revival,” with a more up-beat, drum-led chorus. Much of the rest of the album includes very laid-back numbers, like “Fake Fireplace Things” with its layered, warbling guitars, and the softer, more sparse feel of songs like “Novelty.” Although some of the more upbeat songs don’t work as well, the lighter feeling “Chlorine,” which contains the album title as a lyric, has a nice feel despite its rather standard rhythm section. Scoble’s voice shines nicely here, and the keyboards add another dimension.
Unfortunately, some songs don’t work as well. The band acquires a Pavement-esque feel on “Silver Plated 606,” which doesn’t work for Scoble’s vocals, and the simple guitar and drum approach is less accessible. The kind of old-guys-rocking feel on “Ratmobile” works even worse, and the garage- or bar-rock style just feels totally out of place here. The Beatles-esque “Uninstall” only feels uncomfortable because it’s given the Beatles style of psychedelic keyboards and slightly fuzzy vocals.
It’s hard to put Francine into a genre, really. Something about their clean, crisp, yet layered sound seems to hint at folk and radio-pop from the 60s and 70s, but the music style is definitely modern. I suspect it’s the fact that, when you get down to it, Francine is playing pop music, albeit with a slightly psychedelic twist and a moody, melancholy air. In the moments when they embrace that focus, the band is very, very good. When they get a little silly, unfortunately, they don’t succeed as well. Still, this is a strong album and definitely recommended.

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