Troy Gregory – Laura

Friend: “Name one of the most unassumingly cool living musicians you can think of right off the top of your head…GO!”
Me: “That guy from Blessed Union of Souls!”
Friend: “Be serious. Plus, didn’t he die in some freak ski accident or something? GO!”
Me: “No no he’s still kicking, they’re actually playing at my college this weekend. Stop laughing, I swear I’m not kidding. And that ski thing was just the wild Screech rumor from like eighth grade. Did you know he’s starting up a band in Milwaukee or something? Oh, and Troy Gregory.”
Maybe you think these conversations I have with friends (coughmymomcough) on the phone are meaningless and a waste of time. This may be true, but look at the endlessly amazing segues they can provide plus all that you’ve learned:
1. BUS (Blessed Union of Souls for the novices) is still trying to pass as a band on the small liberal arts circuit, which I feel is worse than having your band’s name come second to “Puppet Show” at an amusement park. “If I told them once, I told them a million times, BUS then Puppet Show.”
2. Screech will apparently one day be yelling, “Hello Wisconsin!” to an audience of nostalgic Gen. X and Y’rs before dipping into “a little number I used to play to woo Tiffani-Amber Thiessen into the sack before she got too big for me and starting doing the whole cast of 90210.”
3. And most important; Troy Gregory. I chose this man because literally he’s so cool it’s almost illegal. Just listen to Laura and try and prove me wrong. Seriously, go ahead, I dare you.
I’ve always liked Gregory in The Witches but never truly realized how friggin cool he was until his last solo project, Sybil, where he combined talents with many a standout Detroit band (The Come Ons, They Come in Threes, Bantam Rooster, I don’t want to have to keep naming everyone…). But his defining moment of coolness that made the light bulb in my head not only turn on but shatter into a million pieces was exactly when I heard the opening swaggered guitar riff and cowbell on “Leave the Ghost at Home” (recorded with The Sights). At that point, Gregory was etched into my wall of cooldome amongst the ranks of such greats as Capt. Hawkeye Pierce, Mary Kate Olsen, Mick Collins, and Henry Winkler. So congrats to him for that.
Now, as killer as I thought and still think Sybil was, man oh man, she was hot but Laura is like her 10 times hotter younger sister. As to be expected from Gregory, Laura is chak full of eerily dark and sex-driven fuzz, echo, reverb, and pretty much all things distorted. But never does it stumble into the usual pigeonholes of “Detroit garage rock” a phrase which I detest in the first place. Amidst the stereotyically “garage” cliches, Gregory throws in classical string instrumented undercurrents on tracks like “Brood” and “In Thee Popsicles Patch,” leading me to believe that if Clockwork’s Alex could tear himself away for one second from the Ludwig van and menacing society, he would definitely get into a little of the old Troy Gregory. It’s dark, it’s brooding, it’s epic (in the loose sense of the word), it’s quirky, and above all it makes you wanna dance. From the hip-shakin’ tracks of “Whatever Possessed U” and “Bananas N’ Dynamite” (I know, what a brilliant name) to the scratchy and amazingly imperfect croonings on “Setting Off Firewerx at Dawn” and “Dracula Has Risen From the Pond,” Gregory manages to make each song fit together perfectly without ever ever ever ever getting redundant.
Ah, it’s just so good and I don’t know what more I can say without blathering on even more like the founding member and President of the Troy Gregory Fan Club (as a one-time member of the JTT fanclub and receiving nothing but a cheap “I Heart JTT” pencil and glossy photo, I’ve presonally given up on the whole fanclub thing). But to wrap it all up, if you’re in the market for a dark and mysterious album that will make all the ladies think you’re that badass kid from the wrong side of town who wears all black and smokes outside the convenience store, but has a good heart underneath, simply take a listen to Laura.
I think I’m gonna give a copy of the album to the dude from BUS, just to see what happens. Who knows, maybe one day he and Gregory can combine forces and The Witches can do a cover of “(Hey Leonardo) – She Likes Me for Me.” Yes, that’s the full name of the song, I swear I had to look it up on Google. Seriously.

Saint Joan – One at Twilight

A rough-hewn beauty underscores the new release from Brits Saint Joan. The songs collected here are careful studies in melancholy: muted, down-tempo, and marked by the twin highlights of Ellen McGee’s crystalline voice and Matthew Williams’s scratchy, Michael Timmins-esque guitar playing. At only three songs, the band keeps a close focus on one mood, in this case a brooding, tremulous ghostliness. Despite this, one can imagine pretty easily these musicians being able to expand their sights (and, one hopes, their tempos) to reach the potential hinted at by the quality of these three quiet gems.
“Klaus Kinski” evokes Radiohead’s Hail to the Thief, with its eerie arpeggio guitar intro and McGee’s low, breathy vocals. The song wells to-well, not a crescendo, but about as close as Saint Joan is willing to get to one-before ebbing abruptly. That song has an insistent, compelling energy to it, which makes it the standout track, but that’s not to short-shrift the other songs, which continue in the same vein.
McGee work the higher end of her range on “Nightmare in E Minor” with a delicate falsetto counterpointing the song’s bass-heavy drone. Again, the Cowboy Junkies come to mind as a possible influence, as they do on “For Star City,” with its skeletal arrangement. McGee’s singing goes a long way toward allowing these dark, spare arrangements to work: imagine Sarah McLachlan but with a dark streak and a little more daring.
Saint Joan’s music deserves good, close listening. I hope they have the opportunity to put out a longer album (this release follows up a previous 7-inch). I’d like to hear what would happen if the band got a chance spread its wings a little, with more songs to explore different musical corners.

The Calculators – Circut Breaking Silence / Simplicity and Style 10”

The Calculators, a short-lived synth-punk band, emerged in 1997 from San Francisco’s musicscape during a time when emo and pop-punk dominated the underground radio waves and anything 80s was still a joke. The Cali quintet dusted off an antique Moog and donned two-tone suits to prepare the West coast for its retrospective take on the new-wave-meets-punk fad from 15 years before the birth of The Calculators. Though the group disbanded in 1999 to form current media favs The Rapture and Paradise Boys, The Calculators are remembered for providing a template for the electroclash trend that has since nearly suffocated indie music with its popularity. The 10″ reissue combines The Calculators’ two albums and assembles a “greatest hits” style compilation from the only formal releases.
Through vocals that inspired The Faint, Luke Jenner, Vito Roccoforte, and Jeff Fare dissonantly croon their way through somewhat weak lyric writing in “This is Evolution.” The refrain is awkwardly redundant and the message is trite, but the dance rhythms are solid and The Calculators’ simple melodies work well against the busy electric background. A track entitled “Electricity” could easily be a renamed cover of The Cure’s “Killing an Arab.” The monotone melody and the lyrics are so close to the 80s precurser that this song is nearly a painful admission of a lack of creativity. The refrain, “Are you alive? / Are you dead?,” is reminiscent of The Cure’s single and “Electricity” seems to be coyly skirting copyright infringement laws.
“Worthless in a World of Wires” criticizes a planet dependent on machinery and electronics, which is ironic for a tune that plugs in a Moog and a Roland Juno 60 to complete its synth-pop sound. Though the message is perhaps contradictory, this track endures the test because of its driving rhythms and unmatched resilient spirit.
Though an unaware audience might be quick to write off The Calculators as yet another synth band, this is the group that paved the way for an entire cult following of copyists. The dissonant and chaotic energy of The Calculators separates them from any of the recent dance-punk trend-followers. And if nothing else, admire The Calculators for their rock lineage.

Nora – Dreamers & Deadmen

Nora is a metal-influenced hardcore band from New Jersey that employs crunchy, neck-snapping riffs, cacophonous, hyper-fast drumming, and ragged, throat-straining screams. But that’s not the weird part. Vocalist Carl Severson sings about what it feels like to stare down the barrel of a gun and why he wants to burn down your house in remarkably astute and uncompromising lyrics. But that’s also not the weird part. Nora quotes Gene Wilder as Willy Wonka in Dreamers & Deadmen‘s liner notes: “We are the music makers, we are the dreamers of dreams.” That is the weird part.
Luckily, Nora’s enthusiasm for metallic and melodic hardcore will no doubt delight fans of the genre, Willy Wonka quote notwithstanding. There’s enough violent imagery, spit-flecked screaming, and ear-splitting guitar to satisfy the pimply, mouth-breathing teen in ill-fitting Levis within us all. Featuring former members of metal impresarios Burnt by the Sun and Ensign, Nora emerged from the wet and heavy jungle of New Jersey in 1997 to commandeer chaos and loom over an encroaching (spiritual) apocalypse. Surprisingly, the band manages to inject a little snide humor into its otherwise standard post-hardcore sound. In “Last One for the Money,” Severson leads the chant, “Last chance kids, its time to rock / Last chance kids, before we’re old.” (Andrew W.K. would be proud.) However, despite this delicious slice of sardonicism, Severson never strays too far from well-trod territory: loneliness, bile, violence, hatred, burning things down, lobotomies, and black holes (in his soul, no less).
So despite aforementioned words such as “well-trod” and “standard,” Nora still fundamentally rocks. Severson’s vocals are crisp and loud, Portland throttles his guitar with gleeful violence, and Chris Ross’ drumming is precise and menacing. Some variation in Severson’s vocal delivery would have helped to elevate the band just over competent, but perhaps the poor guy lacks confidence in his potential for melody in the same way he lacks confidence to tell off that dirty bitch that did him so wrong. (“Didn’t get to look in her face,” from “Scars are Supposed to Last Forever”.) As a result, Nora’s tracks tend to mesh unrecognizably together, but when you’re so anchored in a particular genre, especially metalcore, it really doesn’t matter that all your songs sound the same, right? All that matters is that they grab both your nipples, twist the living shit out of them, and kick you hard in the chest with a steel-toed boot, right? Rock on.

Micah Blue Smaldone – Some Sweet Day

As the pale sun wanes in the horizon, you snap open a frosty bottle of Doc Walton’s World’s Best Sarsaparilla, knock back the brim of your straw hat, and contentedly listen as Micah Blue Smaldone’s sweet vocals spill out of your phonograph. His gentle, almost preternatural acoustic guitar pickings and racially ambiguous voice recalls the halcyon, radio days of early America – a time of great depression framed, however, by the desire to always “keep on the sunny side.” The distant crickets make a marvelous accompanying symphony for Smaldone’s simple balladry, as if he realized that he needed nothing but his voice and a guitar and nature would take care of the rest. You wipe the sweat from your brow and pull out your whittling stick. Time to get down to some serious business.
This is time-traveling music, songs that angle a mood from a past long forgotten. Smaldone weaves loose thread tapestries of fishermen, repentant cheating hearts, ice cream socialists, and sweet, sunny days that make you want to take off your hat, look up at that old, burning hole in the sky, and whistle, “Wooooweeee, it shore is a hot one!” Timeless, good-natured tunes like “Some Sweet Day” and “Old Dog Blues” are interspersed with the instrumental “Pine Needle Rag” and “Blind Boy Rag,” the latter showing off Smaldone’s impressive banjo-picking chops. Land sakes! The man even covers Webb Pierce’s classic “In the Jailhouse Now,” dealing with the police’s notion to “lock up all the Reds and burn their books.” Rife with satirical (if not slightly dated) wit and a sincerity for authenticity, Some Sweet Day is intended to make us all feel nostalgic for a time very few (or none) of us actually remember.
Or perhaps this lad from America’s great northeast just wants us to acknowledge that music did not just fall from the sky and onto Kurt Cobain’s lap. There’s a progression, a timeline if you will, that needs recognition and appreciation. I recently took a poll of a cross section of America’s youth (i.e. my two sisters, ages 13 and 16), and found a 100% ignorance of long-gone greats like Woody Guthrie, Ramblin’ Jack Elliot, Leadbelly, Utah Phillips, and Charlie Feathers. These were artists unconcerned with record company politics or marketing themselves to the dominate demographic du jour. (For now, the tweens, but what’s next? Four-year-old girls with credit cards?) These were men who drank and gambled and loved and lost. They traveled the face of this dusty baseball we call a planet and turned their wisdom into lyrics and their feelings into songs. Smaldone understands this. He remembers. Listen up and he’ll remind you.

Josh Goode Band – Fact of the Matter

Sometimes no matter how hard the reviewer tries, he can never describe a band as well as a band describes itself. Case in point: If I were to tell you the Josh Goode Band features amazingly adroit players capable at leaping from one style to another in the blink of an eye, you may be tempted to investigate further. In doing so you might visit the bio page on the bands site and come across this poser:
“What would happen if John Mayer wrote songs for Rush?” Hmmm…the seas would boil away? The Earth would drift slowly into the sun? Melodies would need to be transposed seven octaves up? You read on… “What if Bono jammed with Phish for a night?” And then you begin to feel the chilly dread spreading out from your bowels to your knuckles. Someone has actually considered this?! What kind of god would allow it? Satan? Azathoth? The other guy?
If this sounds like a sane reaction to an insane proposal, you’re obviously not in the Josh Goode Band. If you were, those baffling pairings would actually represent a divine synergy of sorts. Though they didn’t propose any sort of Jimmy Buffett/Spin Doctor/Yngwie Malmsteen hydra-headed terror, they may as well have. Fact of the Matter offers chintzy pop, funk pretensions, and a dizzying level of instrumental precision. Heaven forbid these musicians should miss a note.
If the songs had more heft, there might be a point in parsing the Texas quartet’s impeccable performances. Or if the band was less broad in its assimilation of styles, and Josh less cheesily exaggerated vocally. Or just better songs. As it is, the paltry six numbers on this release provide only a few passing moments of pleasure, elsewhere it’s all silliness and airtight virtuosity. The most effective moment comes and goes pretty quickly. It’s the chorus of “Let You Let Me Down,” six bars total, with a nice “oooh/aaah” harmony soaked in reverb and a brief respite from the instrumental and vocal showiness.
The band conjures a lot of unpleasant ghosts throughout, notably Dave Matthews, Barenaked Ladies, and, in the band’s heavier moments, Live, albeit a Live with some humor (and amazing chops). As for Phish, I’d say these tunes are on a par with that Vermont collectives best, for what that’s worth, but the JGB crank up the syncopation to a more feverish degree, bass slapping away and drummer working his undoubtedly vast kit. Slap bass in a rock context is a red flag; personally. It usually signifies a forced funk and a bland pro attitude – and a drummer with a huge kit. All the rhythm section pyrotechnics the band can muster aren’t enough to offset the trite music of the title song, sort of a funky faux-calypso – there’s a genre better left untouched. “Room to Breathe” is probably the best song overall, since it at least plays down the “funk” angle and sports a decent melody and some moodier guitars. There are other moments when the hot air escapes, and JGB threatens to mature into something more interesting but ultimately, no.
I’m sure the Josh Goode Band is very entertaining live, and the band is certainly tighter than a cat’s ass. This being an indie-variety readership, however, I can safely recommend this record to none of you. Nothing of what you’re looking for is here, unless of course you really are waiting for that Bono/Phish summit to come to pass. God help you.

The Charms – So Pretty EP

The Charms keep in lockstep with the zeitgeist on this Farfisa-fed disc of hard hitting brat-rock. Sounding like a collision between Hot Hot Heat and the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s with a less repetitive moniker and a more basic desire to rock, the Charms are forgivably derivative, yet very of-the-moment.
Vocalist Ellie Vee is a spunky wonder, and her sexed-up boisterousness is probably the highlight of this six-song EP, though guitarist Joe Zwida’s punchy, disciplined style is crucial to the overall kick. He knows when to reel out a wiry line and when to just chug along. He’s especially potent (which is always good) on “I Want You Back,” mixing ska-scratches on the verse with a chorus that’s simple and powerful. Which is to say it rocks. There may be a degree to which we’re being winked at here but it’s cool, Joe does his share and sounds great. The persistent buzz and bite of Kat Kina’s Farfisa sounds good alongside the Big Rock power chords as well. Keeping herself limited to the one instrument (though I may have heard a smidgen of piano) gives the whole band a more defined sound, though its innate new-waviness does lend more of a retro feel to the whole thing than is really necessary.
Other than the slightly arch “Candy,” the songs all balance their energy and their hooks pretty well. Ms. Vee makes a very convincing frontwoman, voice ranging from rebellious to coy, all the while sounding like she’s overheating and eager to release herself from the confines of her clothes. Her believability as a hellion is vital to making this all work. Any hedging of her bets and the whole affair would be irrelevant, a transparent pose. Good for her, she’s a natural, a born rock star. Ironically, the song that kicks up the least dust is also my favorite. “Waiting for You” sports all the same elements but has a more vulnerable performance from Vee and a sweeter chorus than the balance of the disc. It ends up being more memorable than the amped-up attitude of “Believe” for instance, even though the latter may be more indicative of what the Charms are all about.
Either way, there’s bound to be a party going on up in Boston when the Charms are on stage. I would expect rampant debauchery and discarded panties to figure prominently in the proceedings. Please don’t disappoint me.

Onelinedrawing – The Volunteers

Say what you want about Jonah Matranga, but he sure is sincere. His lyrics, straightforward style, and seemingly every way he approaches his career through live shows, putting out records, and employing the Internet is fresh, hands-on, personal, DIY in spirit, and charming. Simply put, he has people skills. His love-y free-spirit vibe has allowed some to derisively label him an emo hippie. But for every cynic that is put off by his honesty, just as many or more flock to him for a breath of fresh air without a hint of pretension. And since Onelinedrawing is a solo effort, it all comes off very personal and intimate, like you are watching him play in your living room. In this respect The Volunteers is no different.
However, this record is not entirely predictable or a copy of Matranga’s past efforts throughout his prolific career. For one thing, it is largely sparse, and quiet. These quieter tracks provide some melodramatic moments, but they also release some real beauty. Case in point is “Stay,” which is pretty damn hypnotic as the sound envelops your entire consciousness. Matranga has just penned a perfect song to pop on the headphones for a solitary midnight walk around the neighborhood. The more I listen to it, the more I love it.
You really can’t stick a consummate label on Jonah, because he’s proven himself a chameleon. He is suited for fronting a hard-rock band – as he did with Far – and with his solo stuff he masters the stripped-down singer/songwriter role with ease. The quiet and reflective moments are abundant on The Volunteers, but he also can rock out. “Over It” is one of the few rock tracks on here. If not entirely “hard,” it is catchy as hell and requires singing along especially as the backup chorus vocals kick in at the end. The song that has made the best case for song of the summer so far is “We Had a Deal,” which is much more rock in the sense of Jonah’s other past project, New End Original, and is a bit like the song “Lukewarm” to give you an idea.
Throughout The Volunteers, there are times Jonah hints at a mawkish approach, but he never really crosses that line. He’s able to craft songs that are touching without becoming seriously over-sensitive. The Volunteers is a nugget of reflective pop. When it is sparse and quiet, his voice can stir your soul, and when it revs up you will be bopping your head.

Múm – Summer Make Good

I have my preconceptions about Iceland, but I can bet all of them are misguided, stereotypical, or just wrong. Even so, when I listen to music by Bjork, Sigur Ros, and Mum (the holy trinity of Icelandic music), I can’t help but imagining myself bathing in a natural hot spring, surrounded both by glaciers and tall and distinctly beautiful people, or standing alone, gazing across a vast, silent nothingness that is bleak, yet conversely hopeful and peaceful. It doesn’t hurt my preconceived notions of the country that the music that seems to come from there would provide excellent soundtracks to these or any other native activity I can imagine (except for shearing sheep, probably).
Mum (pronounced with a pretentious foreign diction MOOM) is a group that with a sweeping beauty full of electronics and organic instrumentation creates vast and peaceful soundscapes. Since this record was released and the last one came out, the group has gone through some significant changes, first being the departure of vocalist and multi-instrumentalist Gyda Valtysdottir, who is coincidentally the twin sister of the other vocalist and multi-instrumentalist in the group. Second, though much of the group’s core sound remains intact, there is a larger presence of vocals on this album. And they are vocals that are at times appropriate for the music and mood, and at other times unsettling, and unnecessary. Lastly, much of the album is dark and stark, and cold rather than airy and ethereal.
Alternating between sounding like a gremlin and sounding like a baby, the vocals don’t so much haunt as distract. The human voice was used sparsely over Mum’s past efforts and at times added a detached, breathy, and other-worldly quality to the music. Yet now the vocals’ prominence only really distracts from some of the beauty that’s going on in the background. It’s rare for me or anyone to say this for any band, but given Mum’s previous successes, the band would have fared better had this record been entirely instrumental.
That said, this album doesn’t feature vocals on every song, and the vocals can’t take away all the majesty of Summer Make Good. Its tone is significantly darker than past efforts, and its vibe is cinematic. The songs climax and rise as if they were the background to some heightened on-screen intensity that we can only imagine.

The group will always be gifted at creating lush and dense landscapes with its music. Though it is not as intensely captivating as past efforts, Summer Make Good is no exception. Though the atmosphere is darker, there is still enough depth and texture to put on headphones and get lost in the world Mum has created.

Lion Fever – Lustre EP

It is initially hard to decipher, but the vocals that fill your ears are actually coming from Jennifer Pearl, a woman, not some snotty coked-up (male) lunatic. When Pearl displays her best range, you get the feeling Lion Fever sounds like what might happen if Jeff Buckley fronted the Stooges or Gun Club. The vocals soar, and even when Pearl stretches her range , you can tell she does so with a sneer on her face. Otherwise she wouldn’t be a worthy front woman, because Lion’s Share is all about the attitude.
Lion Fever is trashy and sleazy and just punk enough to piss you off. It’s sloppy and visceral music that is bluesy and psychedelic. It’s dirty and primal and implores the listener to commit wanton acts like getting busy, and much as it calls for acts of irresponsible self destruction. Take your pick.
The group’s pedigree reads like this: The Lost Kids, Pleasure Forever, and The VSS. The opening blast of “Slave” is perhaps the bands best moment in its short history. For these five tracks, the band sticks pretty close to bluesy punkish rock, and even cover “For the Love if Ivy” by the aforementioned Gun Club.
On this debut EP, Lion Fever doesn’t single itself out as a visionary group. While it has attitude and style to more than compensate, the fact remains that this sounds interchangeable with much of the garage-rock revival hanging in the airwaves these days. However, Lion Fever holds tight to the above-average end of the scale, leaving The Kills, and all those other “The” bands in the dust.

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