Interview with Tullycraft

Before we at Delusions of Adequacy took our recent hiatus, I had the pleasure of probing the minds of members of Tullycraft – the most precious twee-pop group on the planet – over the course of a suitably bubbly interview. Tullycraft’s latest full-length album, Disenchanted Hearts Unite, was a blissful soundtrack to this past summer and easily the group’s most accomplished effort to date. It’s not often a critic gets an opportunity to interview a group he truly loves, and I hope readers will forgive those moments when I slip out of my objective interviewer persona and into the voice of an earnest fan.

Delusions of Adequacy: In my review of Disenchanted Hearts Unite, I wrote of how I thought that musically and lyrically the album displayed a remarkable awareness of its own greatness. There’s really an infectious enthusiasm. When you were working on the album, did it feel especially good or like a big step forward?

Chris: We were pretty into some of the songs when we were practicing and learning them, and we just took our time in recording to get the best sounds we could. We self-record most of the music with our own gear and experience (cough), so hopefully it’s something we keep improving. I agree it’s our best stuff all around.

Sean: I agree with Chris. We were pretty excited about the songs as we were learning / writing them. We knew if recorded properly that this album would be one we could be proud of.

DOA: As an album reviewer, I’m constantly thinking about the overall cohesion of albums, and I’m certain I use the phrase “quality control” entirely too often. When you put together an album like Disenchanted Hearts Unite, do you start with a larger batch of songs and tailor it down to a tighter, more manageable package? Do you ever have heated debates over which songs should/should not make the cut?

Chris: We work on each song like we’re going to make it a 7″ single. We like to think each song could stand on its own. We want to eliminate the notion that any songs are “filler” and give them all the best treatment we can. The arrangement and sequencing of the songs is what we debate.

Sean: It’s hard for me ‘cause I write the songs, and it’s not always easy to admit that some are better than others. When I’m writing them I’m convinced that every song is great, but that’s not always the case…. I reluctantly admit that.

DOA: Speaking of reviews, do you often read reviews of your works and if so, with what level of enthusiasm?

Chris: I think I like the bad reviews more sometimes? This album has gotten really nice words for the most part.

Jenny: I pretend to not care what’s written about the album or about our shows, but I obsessively read every review I can.

Sean: I love bad reviews! I know that our music isn’t for everyone, and if someone tears us apart in an intelligent or even a stupid way, I love reading it. Good reviews are great, but bad reviews are awesome! Those are the ones I pass on to my friends.

DOA: My favorite songs on the new album are “Stowaway,” “Rumble with the Gang Debs,” and “Secretly Minnesotan.” Do my tastes coincide with any group members’? Which songs seem to really get the crowds going?

Chris: “Stowaway” is one of our favorites to play recently.

Jenny: If I can continue on the self-absorbed track, I like the songs that are the most fun to sing: “Stowaway,” “Every Little Thing,” and “Rumble with the Gang Debs.” Of the new songs, “Stowaway” and “Rumble” do seem to get the crowds dancing.

DOA: Disenchanted Hearts Unite has a lot of lyrics that are what I would call postmodern – or art that recognizes itself as art. Have you ever thought about your lyrics in those terms?

Chris: I thought Sean was more of a Dada-ist.

Sean: Yeah, I guess you could call the lyrics postmodern. A few years ago I believe we were called “reference rock.” I don’t really know much about song writing outside of how I write songs, and this is how I write them.

DOA: Tell me a little bit about your songwriting process. Do you write the melodies or the chords first? Do you right the lyrics or the melodies first, or do you write them at the same time?

Sean: I usually write the bass part and melody first. Sometimes a lyric or chorus will appear in the early version, but if a song doesn’t have a good melody or hook, it really doesn’t matter how great the lyrics are. Then I introduce the basic framework of the song to Jeff and Chris, and they turn it into a real song with the addition of drum and guitar parts. I bring in a song idea and those two work it into an actual song.

DOA: How schooled is the band in music theory? When you write music, do you think in technical terms about what kinds of chords would work well together, or do you write mainly by ear?

Chris: It’s really all by ear. We know the chords we’re playing, but we try to ignore that and just play what the song is asking for.

Sean: I know nothing! I only know what sounds good and what sounds bad to my ears.

DOA: Do you write with an audience in mind? Who do you envision as comprising the bulk of your fan base?

Chris: Chuck Mangione fans mostly.

Sean: You can’t write for the audience, you have write for yourself… or at least I think I read that somewhere.

DOA: What groups have had the biggest influence on the formulation of Tullycraft’s sound?

Sean: The Modern Lovers, The Beach Boys, The Pastels, The Clash, BMX Bandits, AC/DC, The Pooh Sticks, Galaxie 500, Some Velvet Sidewalk, Half Japanese, and many others…

DOA: What groups do you love that listeners would never suspect?

Jenny: I think Sean’s CMT addiction would be the most surprising!

Sean: In the past three nights I’ve seen: Ashlee, The Two Gallants, Portastatic, Sugarland, and Brad Paisley (no joke!). And while Ashlee was pretty terrible, Brad and Sugarland totally rocked!!! They were really great!

Chris: Chuck Mangione’s later stuff just keeps blowing my mind.

DOA: It’s seems trendy these days for musicians to promote images of themselves as rock snobs. Do you consider yourselves rock snobs? About how many records/tapes/CDs would you say you’ve owned over the course of your lifetimes?

Sean: It’s safe to say that we all have pretty big record collections. Ultimately, we are just big fans of music. Actually, I don’t trust people in bands who say they don’t listen to much music. Somehow that seems arrogant to me.

DOA: On the basis of your music, one might guess that Tullycraft is a group filled with wide-eyed believers in true love. Is that true?

Chris: Yes.

Sean: Sure, I can get behind that.

DOA: What are some of your guilty pleasures? Does anyone in the group watch the television show the OC?

Jenny: My guiltiest pleasure is my great love for the movie Paycheck, even though Ben Affleck is dirty and wrong. I’m from Orange County, but I don’t watch the show OC because I don’t get very good TV reception. I loved Beverly Hills 90210, however. Another guilty pleasure.

Chris: I watch waaay too many reality TV shows.

Sean: I love Survivor, The Amazing Race, and Dog the Bounty Hunter. I also watch a bit of CMT (Country Music Television). Some might say a bit too much.

DOA: Have you ever thought about doing music full-time as a career?

Chris: Not really, but if you’re offering…

Sean: That notion seems a bit silly to me. Can people actually make a living doing this?

Interview with Caribou

Delusions of Adequacy recently had the good fortune to conduct an email interview with the mastermind behind the bands Caribou and Manitoba: Dan Snaith. His albums of laptop-driven “bliss pop” have earned him critical raves and a popular following.

Because of a legal dispute, Mr. Snaith recently had to change the band’s name from Manitoba to Caribou, but with the name change came a broader approach to the music as well. Caribou’s The Milk of Human Kindness came out this spring, and among its gems you’ll find as many tracks that depart from the Manitoba sound as you will tracks that follow naturally from Manitoba’s Up in Flames.

What follows is a transcript of the interview, which shows a little bit about the man behind the beats – how he makes his music, what inspires him, how well he works with others, and what consumes the time he has left over from making albums.

Delusions of Adequacy: Why do you make music?

Dan Snaith: I think I’d be in a loonie bin by now if I didn’t. I’ve spent pretty much every spare second since I was about 13 making music. I can’t imagine what else I’d do.

DOA: How and when did you get started making music?

DS: I stole a really shit sampler from my highschool and got one of those wanker synthesizers that were so popular with wankers like me in the late 80s and early 90s and started making shit with a little computer when I was about 13. At the same time, I was in indie-rock bands, but I didn’t think that shit was so cool because I was way more into Yes and Emerson, Lake, and Palmer.

DOA: Early on, what bands or artists did you admire and why?

DS: I keep answering questions just before you ask them. I admired all those overblown prog-rock loons because they had good ‘chops’ and wore cloaks and shit. I still admire them for the cloaks, but turns out their music was total crud. That occurred to me a bit later in life.

DOA: How much of the music do you play yourself, and how much is sampled? Do you actively look for samples, or do you just listen to music and occasionally say “I’d really like to reuse that part”?

DS: It’s about half and half. I don’t actively look for samples. I’m just one of those record-collecting nerds who is always looking for weird records. I guess from listening to a lot of hip-hop and then getting into finding out what records they sampled from I’ve got a reflex whereby if I hear lots of drum breaks on a record I have to own it, too. So that helps with keeping me in stock with lots of mad drums.

DOA: Where do you get ideas for you songs? Do you usually build them in a certain way (drums first, then guitar, and so on)?

DS: I just build them out of loops. I never write anything before I record it. I guess it often starts with drums, but things can start with a sample or a melody I’ve played. Quite often the original thing doesn’t end up in the final track. I always record far too many parts, and the last part is getting rid of most of them and then arranging it into a song.

DOA: How has your approach to music evolved?

DS: Very little. I record things in exactly the same way that I did on the first album, essentially. I still try and work as intuitively as possible and never think too much about what I’m doing or plan things out in advance. Just seems to work best that way. I guess the reason that I like making music so much is trying to record something that sounds new to me each time and so hopefully that keeps the music moving on.

DOA: With Caribou, you seem to be moving away from some of the lush, poppier sounds of Manitoba and moving towards a more organic and diverse sound. Was this a conscious decision?

DS: No. Like I said, these things just kind of happen. I’d get bored if I ended up doing the same thing twice, so I guess my music will probably keep shifting around. There’s definitely no conscious difference between Caribou and what I did as Manitoba.

DOA: Do you collaborate on your songwriting, or do you tend to do it all yourself?

DS: I’m a control freak and work extremely unsociably, so I tend to end up doing it all myself. That’s definitely the case on this album. On Up in Flames my friend Koushik cowrote two tracks that he sung on, which worked really well. But there are very few people I trust [enough] to work with I guess.

DOA: Is your music career a full-time endeavor, or do you have to keep another job as well? Did you intend for writing music to be your occupation?

DS: I always dreamed of doing music full time. I’ve just submitted a Ph.D. thesis in mathematics, so now I’m doing music full-time for the first time, which is really exciting for me. I’m glad I kept the math on for as long as I did because I loved doing it, but it did feel like I was being torn in two different directions a lot of the time.

DOA: After being required to change the band’s name from Manitoba, how did you decide on the name Caribou?

DS: We were on tour in the prairies in Canada and strapped ourselves onto three crucifixes on the back of a flatbed truck, took a bunch of acid, and waited for a vision. The vision came and it told us ‘Caribou’.

DOA: Have you patched things up with “Handsome” Dick Manitoba? [It was because of Mr. Manitoba that the legal troubles regarding the name arose.]

DS: Never talked to the guy. Every impression I’ve got from him is that he’s not interested in debate or compromise. I’m happy to let him get on with his life and never talk to him again. The whole thing makes him seem pitiable more than anything else to me.

DOA: What bands or artists do you listen to these days?

DS: Always Madlib, Lightning Bolt, Animal Collective. The new Daft Punk album. I listen to a lot of old stuff as well. I’m well into this guy Phillipe Besombes from France in the 70s.

DOA: Do you have goals for Caribou — like selling a certain number of albums or touring every continent on earth — or do you just take it as it comes?

DS: I just take it as it comes. I’m pretty much exactly where I want to be musically so I’m happy as a pig in shit. I’m really enjoying touring, though, so we’re definitely going to tour every planet in the solar system.

DOA: How do you know when you’re done with a song? Is it tempting to always go back and tweak some part of it or add a little more to it, especially with all of the digital tools available these days?

DS: I usually leave a track for a few weeks when I think it’s finished, and if it still sounds finished after that then it’s a done deal. With a bit of distance, it usually becomes obvious if it needs something else or not. On rare occasions, I listen back to my music and sometimes think “I wish I’d whacked a harmonized guitar solo in here” but not very often.

DOA: Do you prefer to write lyrics that are direct and personal or abstract and open to interpretation?

DS: I don’t like writing lyrics much at all. At the moment I’m super into the Daft Punk technique of only using the words from the song title as lyrics. That’s next-level lyrical shit.

DOA: If you could time travel and play any instrument with any band, what band and instrument would you choose (e.g., “play drums with Killing Joke in 1982″)?

DS: I don’t go in for that kind of fetishist shit really [ed: no offense taken ?] but if you pressed me I’d say … oh fuck. I don’t know what I’d say. I’d probably want to spend some time and learn how to play an instrument properly before I do that.

DOA: What really good book have you read recently? What film have you seen recently that you would recommend?

DS: My literacy level has dropped to near functional illiteracy, I’m afraid. The only books I’ve read in the past four years are mathematics textbooks. As for films, I would recommend the Wickerman (the original, not the upcoming remake) because for some reason only people in the UK seem to know about the best film in the world.

DOA: Finally, is that a picture of your dog on the cover of the “Jacknuggeted” CD-single?

DS: That dog is a friend of the photographer Jason Evans. I believe his name is Harvey.

Piñataland – Little Know Ye Who’s Comin’

The New York-based ensemble Piñataland, whose brilliant full-length Songs From the Forgotten Future Vol. 1 was arguably the best record of 2003, even threw their hat in the political ring, choosing (unlike many) to wax more pro-Kerry than anti-Bush by adapting an 1824 John Quincy Adams campaign tune for the new millennia. While the acoustic guitars of the online-only offering “Little Know Ye Who’s Comin’” aren’t far removed from the coffeehouse protest of McGee’s “The Bad President,” that’s about where the similarities end. The song — posted in the midst of the race and updated with accompanying text at this site after Bush’s victory — is a sometimes-subtle and carefully rendered track, something that’s fleshed out enough to fit alongside the history tunes of one of the band’s engaging full-length outings.

While Piñataland, in true imitation of the alarmist JQA (that other President’s son) tune, claims a Bush election/reelection would lead to famine, plague, slavery, wide-spread fires and robbery, and battles with pistols, guns and knives (among other second-term niceties), it’s really, really surprising to hear how toned-down the presentation is. Most of the two-minute song’s choruses (“Little know ye who’s comin’ / If John Kerry not be comin’”) are delivered in a near-whisper and only once (during the verse that claims a Kerry-less presidency will bring with it tears, fears, plague, pestilence, hatin’, and Satan) does the band get overpowered slightly with anti-Bush sentiment and lose a bit of their cool. It’s a beautiful thing. The band also deserves applause for being what is probably the only act to perform an angry missive against the Republican “war president” while employing the tender weeping of a pedal steel guitar. Sadly, though, Piñataland’s “Little Know Ye Who’s Comin’” now also may provide a subtext to many of 2004’s protest songs and a sad closing thought on much of the artistic response we’ve seen and heard in the last year or so. It’s another song they’ve created for a forgotten future.

Soltero – Hell Train

Poor Tim Howard. Things never seem to work out for him. He’s perpetually dejected with the ennui of everyday life. His plans never go through and of course he never gets the girl. He’s sort of like a 20-something Charlie Brown. And to make matters worse, you’ve never even heard of him.

Like many guys his age, he puts his frustration to music. But unlike so many singer/songwriters of the Live Journal generation, Howard, under the moniker of Soltero (the apt Spanish word meaning lonely bachelor) articulates his frustration smartly and sweetly. More than just another hopeless college grad, Howard empathetically conveys his desperation and angst – and here’s the key – without sounding desperate or angsty. It’s Howard’s affable, everyman voice that guarantees his sincerity.

Now that we’re all done knocking the latest Death Cab record, we can move on to lyrics Ben Gibbard wishes he could write. Lines like: “You thought you’d be home by now / Another year wasted alive / Will you ever be filed in that celestial archive” are witty, emotional, and all-too-human. Howard’s lyrics are some of the most engaging and vulnerable you still haven’t heard. To make matters even better, Howard’s self-deprecating wit actually makes the music more likeable, as it never becomes too clever for its own good, a shortcoming we’ve heard one too many times from the likes of Stephin Merritt and countless others. Unlike them, this guy really means it.

Then there’s the music itself. Whether it’s sparse, acoustic numbers like “If I Had a Chance” and “Rosie Day,” the AM pop of “From the Station,” or the psych-rock fuzz outro of “Ghost at the Foot of the Bed,” all work as fitting backdrops to for tales of relationship woe. But not only is Howard a profound songwriter, he’s also a true pop auteur. His melodic sensibility shines throughout Hell Train. The jubilant surrender of “Hands Up” is a striking contrast to its lyrical resignation, making it all the more potent. The bleak “Acadian Coast” is also evocative, ripe with its poetic imagery, sullen guitar and all the strife of a bitter breakup.

Then there’s “Songs of the Season” with its standout melody and bittersweet contempt for holiday commercialism. “The songs of the season get under your skin like a tapeworm / Now the wind hits your face with a familiar sting / And it seems like the whole world is preparing to sing / You just keep saying nothing, it keeps you from saying the wrong thing.” It’s with words like these that you find yourself nodding along with a pout and a sigh of appreciative recognition. (It’s also an excellent compliment to “Oh Noelle,” his 2002 contribution to the compilation This is Christmas on which he compares office holiday parties to “a thousand little paper cuts.” Good luck tracking that one down.)

It’s a lot to take in on one listen. The interweaving harmonies and continual lyrical stunners make Hell Train quite a rewarding ride. After all, something here is bound to resonate with anyone who’s ever more than a little hopeless. On “Rosie Day,” Howard sings “Oh I wish that she were mine / I’d finally be fine / She just smiles and says some other time.” It’s simple but delivered so purely that it’s sure to induce pathos, but never pity. Hell Train remains emotional without being “emo” or any other easily labeled or manufactured genre. For our sake, let’s hope Howard’s in never “finally fine.” We’d all be better off.

Made Out of Babies – Trophy

With a name like Made Out of Babies, it’s a safe bet that this Brooklyn four-piece isn’t interested in subtlety. This album rocks hard and loose in the proud noise-rock tradition of the Jesus Lizard, Butthole Surfers, and their myriad progeny. Frontwoman Julie Christmas adds an intriguing dimension to the familiarly abrasive riffage and skin pounding, channeling the free-associative joy of Bjork as well as the sexual aggression of the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s Karen O. The result is an artily heavy release that’s eerily captivating.

At its core, Made Out of Babies are a rock band: an ugly, primal, down-tuned rock band. Sometimes the rock expresses itself as fairly straightforward Motorhead/High on Fire-inspired punk/metal, while at other points the band seems to draw influences from the sort of heavy-but-airy stuff popularized by Neurosis and later refined by Isis and Pelican. However, the underlying theme here is straight-up, no bullshit, heavily distorted, pissed-off rock. The drums are constantly pounding out one loud-as-fuck groove after another, while guitars fly off in all directions like shrapnel, and Christmas alternately speaks, sings, and screams without a moment’s warning. It’s anybody’s guess what the heck Christmas is trying to express in her lyrics, as it’s a struggle to pick out even individual words in the cacophony. Luckily her delivery is more expressive than the great majority of singers blessed with clearer annunciation.

Made Out of Babies synthesizes a number of different strains of heavy music to create an eclectic, brutal sound that manages to avoid a great number of the standard pratfalls, forging a new and powerful musical identity in the process. This is probably the most rock-based release yet from Neurot (which is owned and operated by fellow heavy-as-fuck genre busters Neurosis), yet it fits comfortably into the label’s existing aesthetic. This one is worth a couple of listens – it’s an addictively original take on noise rock.

Rufio – The Comfort of Home

Rufio’s The Comfort of Home is exactly the type of bloated pop-punk album that I hate to see. Most of the songs on it are vapid, over-produced pop-punkers that make me want to retch when I hear them on the radio. In fact, this 16-song album can be pared down to seven choice tracks:

1.“Never Learn” – A speed-punk/pop-punk hybrid that has things most pop-punk songs don’t: an awesome bass line, guitars that deviate from standard chord progression, and aesthetics.

2.“Let Fate Decide” – This punk song contains a quick mellow breakdown, showing the band’s artistic side, as well as keys. Definite songwriting improvement.

3.“On Our Own” – Acoustic song that displays non-whiny vocals, beautiful guitars, and a very nice lead riff.

4.“Bitter Season” – the metal-tinged, yet keys-laden “Bitter Season” is actually a very, very good song. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I wish that all of the songwriting was this innovative.

5. Unnamed Segue 1 – A stomping indie-rock song with no vocals that I wanted so badly to be a full-fledged song. The guys are so good at aesthetics in this song (jumping from minimalistic beauty to stomping angst to transcendent beauty again in just over a minute) – why can’t they be as talented everywhere else?

6. Unnamed Segue 2 – A militaristic build-up of a song, this little gem is the best song on the album, hands down. It’s a true, dark, manic speed-punk song, with even some metal squalls thrown in. All this needs is some yelling and Rufio has suddenly transformed into something very, very current and very, very interesting.

7. Unnamed Segue 3 – A contortion of segue two (which is in itself a contortion of segue one), this version is more rocking and less punking. The drumming here is awesome.

Basically, Rufio’s members do all their best songwriting when they’re not playing straight pop-punk. Unfortunately, the majority of this album is composed of useless, vapid pop-punk songs. If they let themselves write an album of non-pop-punk, not wondering if it would sell, not caring if they got famous, they would be great. Their chemistry on the segues is intense, their sound is distinct, and their skill is undeniable. They could be so much more than they are. Hopefully they will embrace change.

The Nervous Return – Wake Up Dead

One of the small joys of listening to indie music or even major-label recordings in an indie vein is picking up on American singers’ slip into British accents. There are so many examples of such incidents, and sometimes the vocalists merit a ridiculing smile rather than one of genuine appreciation. Fortunately, on his band’s debut album for La Salle Records, Wake Up Dead, The Nervous Return’s lead singer/guitarist doesn’t overreach with his Anglo flourishes. Jason Muller and his three mates deliver an energetic, speedy, and occasionally disposable album of 80s-influenced punk-pop.

Wake Up Dead opens with loud electric guitars and fast beats in the form of “Dramahead.” The lyrics aren’t particularly interesting or memorable, but the song has uncharacteristically strong vocals for a punk release. “Red Camaro” sounds like Def Leppard helping Duran Duran to toughen its image around the time Papa Bush was promising “No new taxes.” Don’t cringe; “Red Camaro” is an enjoyable experience.

Most of the songs on Wake Up Dead follow the same pattern of grinding guitars with interesting effects, pounding drums, and repetitious, hair band-style choruses. This isn’t necessarily horrible, but it gets old soon enough. Artificially tough titles like “Murder Weapon,” “Hate Song (For Animate Object),” and the title track don’t improve the situation. On some of the album’s noisy nuggets of punk-pop, like “Murder Weapon” and “It’s Not Enough,” the listener can’t avoid imagined scenes of Muller and bassist/vocalist Anthony Crouse smiling and playing their instruments against each other’s back in a video scheduled to premiere on MTV between “Welcome to the Jungle” and “Armageddon It.”

One of the more dynamic and catchy songs on Wake Up Dead is “So and So from Such and Such,” with a mellower vocal approach and glorious guitars. “Skin Flavored Lollypops,” near the end of the album, highlights The Nervous Return’s impressive singing, with harmonies flowing around echoed riffs. Of all 10 tracks on this album of 34 minutes, “Skin Flavored Lollypops” is the closest to synth-rock. The song’s instrumental solos by various band members are a treat.

Wake Up Dead has its highs and lows, but The Nervous Return’s energy and desire to please are never in doubt. Perhaps greater lyrical sophistication and more varied melodies will improve future releases.

Lake Trout – Not Them, You

The commercial and critical success of Radiohead seemed to spawn an ocean of followers, mostly imitators, but the dreamy, shoegazey, atmospheric rock (emphasis on the rock) on Not Them, You proves that the guys in Lake Trout are innovators, not imitators. The music is so saturated with the emotive mope-rock influences of UK bands like Radiohead, Travis, and Snow Patrol, it’s hard to believe this band hails from Baltimore. But what makes Lake Trout unique is the way these artists ignore the rules of the day and incorporate the 70s prog-rock ethos of creating a dynamic album of experimental rock with nary a weak tune.

Three years removed from their last release, Another One Lost, and a year writing and recording with imaginative rock producers Tony Doogan (Mogwai, The Delgados) and Dave Fridmann (The Flaming Lips, Mercury Rev), Not Them, You contains 16 sonorous, brooding alternative-rock tracks that are as open and experimental as they are rocked out and catchy. No rules or formulas are followed here, which allows these artists the freedom to explore new territory while staying true to the music their sound evolved from. The prog-rock of Pink Floyd, Genesis, and Yes do not hit you in the face and are not so much heard in the mix as they are felt in the production. The solid bass of James Griffith anchors the rockier tunes, and Matt Pierce’s keyboards and flute shine on the slower open mixes. Michael Lowry keeps the beat with steady drumming, while the soaring, dueling guitars of Ed Harris and Woody Ranere provide the alternative-rock backbone.

While each song is distinctively Lake Trout, tracks like “Peel” and “Systematic Self” are cut from the cloth of Radiohead’s textured, electronic rock. The first resembles something from Kid-A or Amnesiac, while the latter is more in line with the spacey atmospherics of OK Computer. Opener “Shiny Wrapper” and “Now We Know,” with their pounding bass lines and Woody Ranere’s tempered vocals, hold a candle to Snow Patrol’s best work. The more melodic, poppier tunes “Pill” and “Have You Ever” are akin to the introspective rock of Travis.

Lake Trout is not afraid to venture away from structure as evident on “I” and “II,” which are short, ambient instrumental pieces, as well as the title track, which is a slightly longer instrumental tune with classic post-rock piano and drums without the cacophonous wall of guitars. “If I Can” and “King” present a more open, Hood-like experimental sound with subtle textures and flute. To further the 70s credo, a more atmospheric, Fridmann-produced cover of the Stones’ “Street Fighting Man” is included, but the strongest tune is “Riddle,” with its smooth guitar and rhythmic bass dynamics, synth strings, and mysterious keyboard lick; it could easily be an alternative radio hit.

Although the band is one of many fish in the post-Radiohead mope-rock waters, at least the name of the band stands out, though one is never sure whether it is Lake Trout the fish or Lake Trout the lake. But either way, Not Them, You provides enough experimental, angst-ridden alternative rock and dynamic hooks to make this a unique species, and it will make a nice addition to your CD collection. If you don’t believe me, I’ll tell you again.

Bellini – Small Stones

Wow, it’s been quite a week. Personally, I started taking law courses after being away from school since 1996. Nationally, well, people are suffering pretty bad. To live is to suffer, and we all have suffered to various degrees. The band Bellini dodged a huge bullet after raucous founding member and drummer, Damon Che, had an on-stage meltdown in the middle of a tour and took the band’s van, essentially stranding the band in Athens, GA. Bellini, on tour for the critically aclaimed Snowing Sun, needed a drummer and a van quick. Agnostino Tilotta, the other founding member and guitarist (previously of Uzeda), lucked out as his friend, Alexis Fleiseg, was just a few days removed from a tour with Girls Against Boys. Fleiseg agreed to help finish the tour. Fast forward three years and Fleiseg is still the drummer, and the band has one hell of an album, Small Stones, as a result.

Small Stones is an intense and emotional album that pummels about with equal parts sexiness and melodic mayhem. With recording help from Steve Albini, Small Stones is neither fast or slow, neither too noisy or not enough noise. And that’s what makes Bellini more of a Van Gogh than a Picasso. The album is filled with different strokes. Giovanna Cacciola (also previously with Uzeda), Tilotta’s wife, has a swoon-worthy voice (part Exene Cervenka, part Ye-ye) for punks and music nerds. Tilotta’s guitar works overtime on every single song. Fleiseg and bassist Matthew Taylor’s rhythmically compliment each other well throughout the album. On Small Stones, Taylor, though, seems to play deliberaty slower than Fleiseg and Tilotta, almost to the point that you forget he is there.

The songs on the album are short and to the point. Bellini never overworks a song, and the album as a whole steps in and out of aggresiveness via Tilotta’s guitar and Cacciola’s vocals. Every other song is faster and more intense than the previous. This is most evident during the the middle of the album with “Not a Man” and “Chaser.” “Not a Man” is a droney, math-rock piece that reminds me of the psych-rock outfit Bardo Pond. Then “Chaser” continues with more umph from all band members. This pattern is evident all the way through Small Stones.

Small Stones is one of the more enjoyable math-rock albums that have come out recently. It’s melodic, punchy, and full of attitude. Taking a little from various elements from psych-ish slow burners, to 7′s and 80s punk, Bellini has created a gem in Small Stones. Perhaps having the viral Che leave is just what the doctor ordered for the band.

Paint the Town Red – Home is Where the Hate Is

Paint the Town Red’s Home is Where the Hate Is has truth in advertising, but this is also socially conscious hardcore. While it’s a decent effort, the lack of innovation renders it far from mandatory listening. Modern Life is War has comparable lyrical messages but also reasons to hear them out.

It’s painfully clear this wasn’t blessed with any such God City Studios (Carry On, Another Breath) treatment. Drumming is too muffled and needs to be introduced into the foreground. Furthermore, for having two guitarists credited, it never impacts the sound. Paint the Town Red reminds me sonically of Blacklisted, and they only have one guitarist.

The main disappointment is not the production, but how this embodies the term “borecore.” The screaming doesn’t even sound bad, but the vocalist’s same pissed-off delivery gets tired so fast. Identical-sounding songs, derivative screaming, and stale riffs all lead me to look elsewhere for my hardcore.

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