Frausdots – Couture, Couture, Couture

Upon first listen, Couture, Couture, Couture comes across as a pretty dark album, with a Gary-Numan coldness to it. Upon successive spins, however, the album reveals a greater depth and warmth. While a few of the songs are instantly catchy and hummable, most require a few passes before they make you aware of their subtle charms.

Frausdots consists primarily of Brent Rademaker and Michelle Loiselle. You may recognize Rademaker’s name from his parts in such bands as Beachwood Sparks, The Tyde, and Further. Loiselle apparently sang backup for Guns & Roses (!). The pair drew upon the ranks of some bigger-name musicians to round out this effort. Contributors include members of Brian Jonestown Massacre, the Warlocks, the Cure, and Rooney. Fortunately, none of the guest musicians has imposed his or her own “sound” on this record.

Stylistically, Couture, Couture, Couture coheres nicely from track to track. You don’t always get that with newly solo artists like Rademaker – ones who can’t wait to pour out all of their pent-up ideas (“Look! I can do rock, new-wave, alt-country, and metal!”). No track is a wild divergence from the others, and yet no two are so similar that you feel like you’re listening to an artist running out of ideas.

It’s clear that Rademaker’s ideas find their roots in the 1980s. “The Man Who Dreaded Sundown” sounds so much like The Church that you could imagine it being a lost track from that band’s Starfish sessions. It’s probably the most languorous number on the album, and – like its Churchy companion track “Soft Light” – is less reliant on the 80s-ish keyboards that mark many of the other nine tracks. Those keyboards are put to good use on “Tomorrow’s Sky” and “Current Bedding.” The latter opens with a keyboard sequence that then is repeated to nice effect during the song’s refrain of “Walk away / Walk away / Walk away.” The song “Tomorrow’s Sky” features dance-beat drumming and punchy bass in addition to its keyboards, placing it somewhere between New Order and a subdued ABC.

The lead track “Dead Wrong” begins with the line “Lived in a city on a street with no name / It felt good to be out in the rain / In the city, I can’t remember my name” – verses familiar to anyone who’s heard America’s “Horse With No Name.” But before you go thinking that this means the album is full of some sort of tongue-in-cheek, ripoff schtick, let the song continue into its hook-laden chorus. The key lines there are “And everybody’s singing everybody else’s song / And everybody thinks that they’re in love / They’re dead wrong,” which may be both an acknowledgment that songwriters are bound to be informed by their influences and a caution that writing the same old love song is a dead-end. “Fashion Death Trends” reinforces the whole idea of artists borrowing from other artists. The lyrics “Fashion / Death trends / Stealing / Looks till the bitter end” nicely sum it up, delivered just before a memorable chorus of “Hello Hello Hello / Couture Couture Couture.”

All of the songs feature consistent, professional musicianship. “A Go See” catches the band at times sounding a little like the Buzzcocks, a little like the Thought, a little like Interpol. It’s also one of the songs made more likable by its combination of both Loiselle and Rademaker’s vocals. “Soft Light” exemplifies the power of their harmonies.

Rather than break new ground, Rademaker, Losielle, and friends have chosen to have some fun making a record that would have sounded fantastic 20 years ago. While maybe not quite fantastic today, somehow it manages to sound fresh enough in 2004 that you’ll be glad you gave it a chance.

Outbreak – S/T

Like so many of the newer Bridge 9 releases, Outbreak’s You Make Us Sick sounds a little different than what I typically think of when I think Bridge 9. The band cranks out 15 songs in a little over 15 minutes, so you know these are some short, brutally pissed-off bursts of aggression. This is fast hardcore/punk with very direct chord progressions and a vicious sneering vocal attack. The vocals really give Outbreak a lot more personality and character than other bands with bland yelling.

Musically there isn’t much diversity or variation, but there is some slight differences from song to song that are noteworthy. “No One Cares” is a slower track that has a part that is almost a moshable metalcore-type breakdown, but still distinctly rooted in punk. With its slight crossover punk/metal/thrash feel, “Pushed Aside” is a raging 26 seconds of corrosive anger. “You’re a Waste” is one of the more notable songs with a rocked-out feel that makes it almost catchy if you like to sing along to extremely pissed-off lyrics.

Let me tell you, these guys are super pissed off – I haven‘t been making it up for the last two paragraphs of this review. Only one of the 15 songs doesn’t say “fuck” continuously. The lyrics other than “fuck” are pretty violent and volatile as well. “Do me a favor, fucking die,” for example. Pure hostility. I don’t know if these guys are huge menacing guys or not, but regardless of their size, I wouldn’t fuck with them.

I don’t know if this will suit the label’s fans as well as some of the other new Bridge 9 stuff, but unless you’re a total straight-edge Nazi, you should find something to like in Outbreak’s intense and pissed-off You Make Us Sick. It is heavy, fast, and angry, which is essential for this type of music. You all know the stuff I’m talking about, and you know if you like it or not. I’m not usually that big of a fan, but Outbreak is definitely above average.

Slowdive – Catch the Breeze

Being a huge Slowdive fan, I’ve always thought that it got the short end of the stick in regards to the history of the shoegaze scene. Every time I pick up a magazine that has some article about the long defunct “scene that celebrates itself,” it never fails to mention how great My Bloody Valentine is (note: MBV’s Loveless is my favorite record of all time). Well, no shit. I can’t possibly imagine the landscape of rock without Loveless. No other band in that scene and no other band period can compare to it, at least for me. However, right after My Bloody Valentine, everyone always talks about Ride being the flagship band from that scene. Come on people, the only Ride record that is really shoegaze is Nowhere; after that Ride became a shitty Britpop band. Slowdive was the true originator of the style, foretelling a future ripe with Sigur Ros, Boards of Canada, M83, The Appleseed Cast, and Mogwai just to name a few.

For the uninitiated, Catch the Breeze is a career-spanning double-disc anthology encompassing a few early singles as well as songs from Just for a Day, Souvlaki, and Pygmalion. Anyone that has never listened to Slowdive before will find much to enjoy in this nice compilation. The early singles “Slowdive,” “Avalyn I,” “Morningrise,” “Golden Hair,” “Shine,” and “So Tired” give the listener the impression of slipping into a coma. Glossy gossamer sheets of distortion form the basis for the Slowdive guitar sound. Neil Halstead and Rachel Goswell’s vocals float just below the surface. It is a thing of pure beauty. Selections from Just for a Day are limited to “Catch the Breeze” and “Spanish Air.” Every song from the entire Souvlaki record is here except for “Altogether.” Pygmalion selections are limited to just a brief five songs. These are where the band changes sound and is heavily influenced by ambient music. The layered guitars are stripped away in favor of distant echoes and sparse vocals. Brian Eno produced some of the songs from Pygmalion, and anyone familiar with his ambient works will find no problems seeing the influence he had here. At this point Slowdive was only made up of Neil Halstead with some minor vocal work by Rachel Goswell.

As a longtime Slowdive fan, I was actually a little disappointed with the tracklisting. Many of the early singles, which are all magnificent, did not make the cut, including “She Calls,” “Losing Today,” and the two tracks from a flexidisc 7″ “Beach Song” and “Take Me Down.” Just for a Day‘s gorgeous “Celia’s Dream” and “Ballad of Sister Sue” (which was a single by the way) are nowhere to be found. Almost the entire Souvlaki record is here, but only five tracks from Pygmalion? It seems unfair considering that neither the early singles collection Blue Day nor Pygmalion, both of which are out of print, were ever released here in the states, while both Just for a Day and Souvlaki are still available and at cheap prices to boot.

Overall I would say that this is still a really great collection of material from one of the best bands of the early 90s. Any fan of Sigur Ros or The Appleseed Cast’s Low Level Owl records should definitely pick this up if they are not already Slowdive fans. While the tracklist may leave a bad taste in the mouths of some looking for proper versions of long out-of-print and download-only material, it may bring some new fans into the fold. By the way, where are the I Am the Elephant You are the Mouse soundtrack songs?

Sally Timms – In the World of Him

Sally Timms’ most recent solo effort, In the World of Him is a gender-bending confessional of masculine thought and emotion filtered through Timms’ unquestionably feminine voice. Sally, who sings for the Mekons, collected a variety of songs written by men and sings them from a male perspective. No pronouns are changed, and the topics run the range from war and abandonment to marriage and death as the guys attempt to explain themselves and these situations to the gals. While this type of concept album isn’t groundbreaking and could be prone to utter failure for some, Sally Timms has a profound knack for interpreting a song. In the case of the tracks on In the World of Him, Timms channels the words of these men with the soft, subtle understanding of a woman.

While this release is Sally Timms solo, her Mekons mates are well referenced, as some of the songs here are theirs. This may disappoint fans of the band who have already heard some of the tracks here in one form or another. “Bomb” and “Corporal Chalkie” are straight-up Mekons tunes, and while they are definitely good they do leave you wishing for something that hasn’t been heard before. The familiarity continues through “Sentimental Marching Song,” which was written by the Mekons’ Jon Langford. This first song does serve as the litmus test lyrically, especially when Timms sings “all men the same born to brutalize.” Just remember that of nine tracks, Sally only wrote the last one – a take-off on the nursery rhyme Little Tommy Tucker.

In the World of Him works best with the remaining non-Mekons tracks. Sean Garrison’s “High Dosage” is about a man who is dying, and Timms’ gives the song a touching sheen of despair and beauty that easily separates it from the bunch. The short “139 Hernalser Gurtel” is about war and is done in a creepy cabaret style, while Brit Kevin Coyne’s “I’m Just a Man” is a poetic piece of alt-country. Timms’ rendition of Ryan Adams’ “Fools We are as Men” is a stark but weighty song about a boyfriend lamenting the loss of his woman and his fear of dying alone. Here Sally’s voice is at its finest, and she delivers the words with such a deep sense of understanding that cannot be overlooked. This track alone is worth the purchase price of the album.

Although there are a few places Sally could have picked less well-known songs, the overall package is excellent, right down to the cover art. Here Timms’ replicates a Larry Sultan photograph from the series titled “The Valley.” The original depicts porn star Sharon Wild in between takes holding herself and staring at the camera with a blank look. This recreated pose tops off the theme of the album and helps perpetuate the dreary tone which pervades each song. In the World of Him doesn’t shatter any male-female barriers, but it does give a deeper look into the differences between the sexes. This is something everyone should listen to, if only for small insight.

Matthew Puckett – Sad Little Car EP

Matthew Puckett steps away from his full-time band, appropriately named Puckett, to offer up this release, a beautiful and moving EP of songs put together in his first effort to score a film. The film, Particles of Truth, is a love story set in New York City about vulnerable, scared, and passionate people in their search for compassion, and Puckett uses the simple instrumentation of mostly just acoustic guitar and voice to create stark and moody songs that fit that theme to a tee.

The best singer/songwriters can do quite a bit with a small amount, and on this collection of songs – only four of which are actually used in the movie – Puckett proves himself highly capable of that. Most of these songs are performed on an old four-string acoustic guitar, which helps give these tunes a bit of a rustic feel that Puckett’s strong voice nicely compliments. Most important is how the quiet tone contributes to the feel of searching and longing of the film’s theme.

The opening “Self” is the moodiest offering here, very quiet and stark, with Puckett tapping out a rhythm as he softly plucks the guitar strings and adding bits of old folk-style harmonica. It really serves as an introduction to this release, making way for the more upbeat “Sad Little Car,” which has perhaps the hookiest chorus on the album while still possessing the consistent mood of the EP. Again, Puckett provides the rhythm manually on “Come Here Honey,” which also adds some soft keyboards and layered vocal styles. My favorite song is also the prettiest on the release. “Time Passes” is stark and quiet, repetitive in a comforting and enveloping way. The layered chorus of “I will wait for you … time passes, time passes” is very moving, and Puckett sings most of these words with an almost intimate whisper.

Some of these songs feel more esoteric, partially formed in a way to compliment a film without overpowering the moment, and this in itself lends a fragility to the tunes. The quietly flowing “Corner” and the stark “Children” are good examples of that approach. The multiple vocals and more upbeat vocal approach on “Myself Again” finally offer a greater sense of optimism to end the release.

I was extremely impressed by Puckett’s band’s debut, 23, but more so by Puckett’s solo work. There’s a multitude of acoustic singer/songwriters out there, but what makes the best stand out, in my mind, is the ability to convey strong feeling with a minimum of instrumentation. Puckett succeeds tremendously. The seven songs here are quiet and moody yet undeniably catchy in ways that nods to Puckett’s rock sensibilities. Without even seeing the film Particles of Truth, I can tell this is a perfect fit. I highly recommend this talented songwriter’s work.

Various Artists – Friday Night Lights Soundtrack

At first glance, the idea of Explosions in the Sky constructing a soundtrack to a movie about football borders on the arched-brow irony of Belle & Sebastian scoring the latest jingo-fest by “Hollywood hawk” (or hack) Jerry Bruckheimer. Certainly EITS’s brand of epic guitar bombast and visceral platitudes have been, in effect, instrumental tone poems waiting for the right cinematic vehicle to engage itself. The Earth is Not a Cold Dead Place successfully removed Explosions in the Sky from the madding crowd and elevated the band from the overpopulated arena of Mogwai/Godspeed-clones. That its first foray into movie soundtracks, with Friday Night Lights, is a small step back should not deter anyone from enjoying this engaging yet somewhat passive introduction.

The movie itself is a sensitive and often moving portrayal of the 1988 season of high school football team, the Permian High Panthers of Odessa, TX. Any scepticism about EITS adding its voice to the “sports-genre” of film will be pleasantly dismissed. The songs manage to circumvent the usual adrenaline barrage of testosterone rock ballast and instead illustrate the brotherly spiritual bond depicted on screen with plaintive intertwining guitar ambience. After an underwhelming start that has EITS delivering two somewhat under-developed ideas that never made it out of the demo stage, fourth track, “An Ugly Fact of Life” gently insinuates itself with volume pedal guitar swells, melancholy strings, and the trademark EITS dual guitar codas. However, both “Lonely Train” and “The Sky Above, the Field Below” provide EITS the longer canvasses that the band is more comfortable to play in; consequently the musicians are able to stretch out the dramatic and tense swirls, feedback drones, and flourishes quite nicely. High marks should also be given to Daniel Lanois’ piece “Sonho Dourado” and David Torn’s “Do You Ever Feel Cursed.” Their past experience, with capturing either mood, complexities, foreshadowing, or tension within a film, comes through magnificently with their elegiac and powerful contributions.

Make no mistake, Friday Night Lights is at times evocative in its reflective highway sun balladry and pathos. There is, however, a pervasive feeling of compromise and constraint. This is not to suggest any venal collusion on EITS’s part, given that this is a big Hollywood budget film. But certainly the sickly sweet, digital iceberg quality of the string arrangements should have been cause for alarm. Much of The Earth is Not a Cold Dead Place sered itself into memory, not so much for its requisite sweeping guitar grandeur but more for its humble intricacy and ability to colour in between the lines of gradient hues and dense propulsive power chords. These same intricacies make tentative steps to fruition here, yet they never fully capitalize on the wide screen palette that is given to EITS to explore on this soundtrack. Explosions in the Sky’s strength is the ability to reflect a panorama of emotional depth and tension within the band’s sonic language. For the most part, Friday Night Lights is a soothing balm; however, it is the lack of reflection in Explosions in the Sky’s spectral abilities that fall short on this soundtrack.

Pete Muller – More Than This

Pete Muller’s debut album More Than This is a simple exercise in polite, conventional balladry. Muller is a former investment banker who left that behind to start a recording career, and a lot of his songs celebrate being easygoing and carefree, leaving behind a distasteful rat race. Good for him, I suppose. Some of these guys open restaurants or go off to Napa to run a winery, but Muller’s calling was music. Unfortunately, the record feels very much like a glossy vanity project. His songs are pleasant enough, but none of them feels especially vital or urgent or particularly new. Imagine Billy Joel without the histrionics and you’re on the right track.

Muller’s songs come in a couple of varieties: saccharine love letters and, in the case of the title track, fuzzy meditations on human nature. He favors pretty-sounding words and simple sentiments. Muller is an accomplished piano player, and he actually has an interesting voice. It’s got a reedy quality that’s not far off from the Jayhawks’ Gary Louris. Muller seems to want to smooth it out, though, to fit More Than This‘s slick sound, which does it a bit of a disservice. An artist like Norah Jones can occasionally lift songs out of the mire of mild jazz-pop on the strength of her voice alone: she’s an interesting enough singer to capture your attention even when the airbrushed music fails to compel you. A performance like that is fairly rare, though. More typically, what happens is that music that might seem layered and dynamic in a more intimate setting gets lost on a recording, muddied to mere inoffensiveness.

Muller’s brand of coffee house-pop craftsmanship has a comfortable place on the edge of the mainstream, and Muller can probably get a lot more fun and fulfillment occupying it than his old corner office. And I think he should be applauded for his initiative. Now if he can apply the same fearlessness to his music as he did to his career change, he could start to transcend the singer/songwriter clichés his debut suffers from.

Golden Shoulders – Friendship is Deep

In that vast sea of fuzzy, DIY indie-pop, Golden Shoulders are exactly where they deserve to be. Somewhere between a passable combination of Guided By Voices and Cake and a more exciting synthesis of the Beatles and Pavement is where this band calls home – a stretch of musical real estate whose borders may be in dispute, but whose center is forever choked with talented songwriters trying to squeeze out that one last wrinkle.

Within that competitive community – all trying to match the heights of their battered-acoustic guitar-slinging icons – Golden Shoulders hold their own. Friendship is Deep has enough moments of sharp pop craft and witty wordplay to make you momentarily ignore the crushing pointlessness of it all, a pointlessness that really isn’t the Shoulders fault, mind you. They’ve heard fantastic pop songs and they want to join in. So they write songs like “I Get Over” or “Nothing’s All Right,” glowing little satellites of tunage doomed to orbit around enormous gas giants of pop songwriting such as [insert timeless standard here], which force both the listener and the reviewer to confront the most terrifying question of all: why bother writing another song, ever? Really, why?

This crisis could’ve been triggered by any number of bands, not just Golden Shoulders. In fact, this Sacramento-based support system for head Shoulder Adam Kline puts out spunky, clever rockers like “Don’t Ever Do That Again” and “Golden Soldiers” that groove their way through the rough production and drill them selves into your head with a professional’s precision. The lyrics admirably confront the daily pressures of conformity without resorting to pedantry or overly obtuse poetry, with a palpable anger beneath the wit. “The Committee” is an especially strong example of one songwriter’s discontent in the face of four more years of an administration that prizes and promotes uniformity and criminalizes dissent.

Friendship is Deep slackens a bit towards the end, though. “Everybody’s Trying to be My Villain” possesses a typically smart lyrically but also a whiff of the smarm that renders their Sacramento neighbors Cake insufferable. Still, the disc is as strong as 2002’s Let My Burden Be, a fine entry into the British Invasion fetish sweepstakes itself.

Of that ilk, Golden Shoulders are the near equal of better known acts like Apples in Stereo or even the more obscure (but still very fine) Orgone Box in their skill with time-tested psych-pop maneuvers. So why the hesitance to embrace them? Well, there’s no accounting for taste, I guess, nor for the moment when one reaches the point of saturation. Unfortunately both I and the Shoulders have arrived at that point simultaneously. Please render my ambivalence to Friendship is Deep mute by discovering these guys and lavishing them with the only praise that matters, the enduring love of a paying customer.

Entre Rios – Sal

Right now, I’m kicking myself for not paying attention in Spanish class. Sure, I took elementary Spanish in the fourth grade and know that “naranja” means “orange”. I also took Spanish in high school. Unfortunately, my “teacher” was a computer and was less than an engaging speaker/learning tool. As a result, I know how to ask “Where is the orange bathroom?” Entre Rios, as mentioned recently, is from Argentina, and all of the band’s songs are sung in Spanish. This poses a slight problem when looking to understand the “meaning” of the songs, but I have found a way around it for this review of the latest Entre Rios album, Sal. Sal is every bit as good as Idioma Suave, leaning even more towards the electronic side of things without losing warmth, no doubt thanks to the sultry vocals of Isol. Every song also has a title, and I offer you this, a key-track interpretation based on what I think the songs are about based on my translation of the titles:

“Salven Las Sirenas”: A cop named Seamus has lost his cop car’s siren, and needs to “salven” its mysterious dissapearance.

“Septimo Cielo”: An homage to So So Def recording artist Cee-lo, with a big hats off to Timbaland.

“Nunca”: A slam at right-wing conservatives, the song will no doubt be the theme for Puffy’s 2008 “Vote or Die” program.

“Mas”: More?

Seriously, the album is good, and the band is good. Electronic pop with a soul is never bad. However, my Spanish always will be.

Salem – New York – Tribeca Rock Club, NY – 2004-11-13

In the 90s she was Hollywood’s “next big thing,” known for her ballsy choice of roles which include Natural Born Killers, Cape Fear, and Kalifornia. She didn’t look like the other actresses, and she didn’t act like them either. She came from someplace darker, sexier, crazier. Juliette Lewis was the queen of ambitious cinema, and today… Today she’s playing a rockstar. Not on the big screen, but in little clubs.

Sounds intriguing, right? Remember Strange Days? She managed quite a nice PJ Harvey impression with her music performance in that film, so good it was even on the movie’s soundtrack. And with a backing band of experienced professionals – Todd Morse (H2O) and Kimble Walters (The Rise) on guitars, Paul Ill (studio musician recommended by Linda Perry) on bass, and Patty Schemel (Hole) on drums – I must say that I was damn curious when heading down to the Tribeca Rock Club in New York City one Saturday evening in November. Apparently I wasn’t the only one. The club was overflowing with bodies, and considering that the band’s first release, a five-song EP called …Like a Bolt of Lightning, just came out one month prior to the show, I can only assume that the majority of the crowd had no idea what Juliette and the Licks actually sounded like. I know I didn’t.

But before I would find out I had to suffer through two horrifically average bands. The first, Val Emmich, looked like Ryan Adams and sounded like Radiohead. Scratch that – tried to sound like Radiohead. The second was a Florida band called Salem. The name had me expecting a death metal band, or at least something a little sinister and dark. The band was about as dark as Puddle of Mudd. Neither act really pumped me up for the headliners.

But, alas, Juliette and the Licks took the stage, and the 200+ crowd of eager concert goers filled every inch of the classroom-size venue. What I was struck by immediately, before one note was sung, was Lewis’ outfit: a tight tummy-showing tank top with the words “public servant” stenciled on it, bright yellow spandex pants, and white high heel shoes. Clothes that promised a sexually charged performance.

Her stage personality is in the same vein as Debbie Harry, Karen O, and Iggy Pop. She obviously has studied the punk rock of the 70s and borrowed some fashions from the 80s. During the set, she struck poses, writhed around on the floor, plunged her body into the audience, and focused a lot on crowd interaction – all with the awareness of a trained thespian. Her performance is just that, a performance. That is to say that she is aware of the art of entertaining.

As for her actual voice, the girl can sing. It’s raw and gritty and out of tune at times, which is not a bad thing. No one’s showing up to hear her sound like Celine Dion, we want the dirty, scratchy throat, banshee wailing voice of a woman who once portrayed a serial killer and made her likable. Her sound is as uninhibited as her acting. And as for the rest of the band, it’s a group of musicians who have been playing in bands for years so, of course, they’re pretty tight. The highlight, for me, was drummer Patty Schemel, who is the woman who backed Courtney Love up for five years and lived to tell the tale.

The problem with having an Academy Award nominated actress as your frontwoman is that the music becomes secondary to the Juliette Lewis spectacle. When you stand inches away from an actress of Juliette’s stature, it’s hard to even remember what the music sounded like. This is the unavoidable obstacle of the actor-turned-musician. It’s difficult to overcome, and Juliette and the Licks are no exception.

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