No Through Road
Monkey on a Rock
No Through Road is a solo outing by some Australian gent who goes by the name of Matt Banham. The output on his solo debut is a confused and muddled grouping of the lo-fi, the tortured, the loud, and unfortunately sometimes the boring.
What I’m most thankful for when listening to this disc is that the first track is not entirely indicative of the output for the rest of the CD. The opener is called “Long Slow Song,” and lest this be some sort of false advertising, this is a long slow song – 10 minutes and 15 seconds to be exact. Whatever compelled him to create a song like this and then to make it the opener, the attention grabber, the flagship track to his CD is anyone’s guess. It’s like an overmedicated acoustic lullaby that takes about four minutes before ambient background noise makes it the least bit tolerable. If Banham renames the song “long boring slow and pointless song,” he just might win a prize for most literal song title ever.
For what its worth, Monkey on a Rock does pick itself up a bit as time wears on. Even the second track has its redeeming qualities and is beefed up by an electric guitar and a full band. It’s title, “How to Make You Cum,” is apparently either some metaphor or to be taken literally as Banham ends the song with the sullen, “I’ve forgotten how to make you cum / is that the reason why you’ve gone?” Other lyrical dubs and wincers come off in “Class Dismissed (Beautiful World)” with the bombshell: “It’s a fucking beautiful world / And you’re a fucking beautiful girl.” While this may induce some sort of head slap from the listener for pure inanity, just know that often what Banham lacks in lyrical ability he makes up for with pure emotion. His squealing off-key delivery is sometimes equivalent to Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes. His throat ripping screams, if anything, demand attention.
Thankfully No Through Road switches up styles enough to avoid inducing prolonged severe boredom. “Everything That’s Wrong with Me and More” is a rollicking lo-fi indie-pop tune that, despite poor lyrics, is pretty decent. However, any advances made by the few decent tunes on this disc are undermined by lengthy and meandering songs like the 10-minute second electric guitar squealing of “It’s So Cold.” Bandham’s shattering vocals are gripping and truly affecting, and you wish that they could find a proper outlet in the songwriting. If that ever were to happen, he could sufficiently induce chills throughout any listener’s spine. As it is right now, though, this is too mixed and uneven to deserve much attention