Gratitude – S/T

I don’t say this very often, so relish this next statement: Believe the hype. Gratitude is amazing.

Gratitude’s history is almost humourous to read. The members of this band have been in so many projects before this that to call them veterans would be understating it. I count at least nine separate projects. And the best part about that is that it completely doesn’t matter on Gratitude’s self-titled debut. There’s no pretention, there’s no name-dropping, there’s nothing here but solid rock. And when I say solid rock, I mean it; this isn’t pop-rock, dance-rock, post-rock, retro-rock, blues-rock, emo, metal, or anything. This is straight-up, in-your-face rock. With the variety of sounds that their previous bands have made, it’s almost fitting that they should return to the tried-and-true formula of rock.

But don’t pigeonhole this as bland just because it goes back to the basics of rock. Just as Actionslacks’ Full Upright Position was brilliant because it reveled in pop structure, Gratitude excels because it doesn’t try anything fancy. The sound isn’t out to break any experimental awards. I could venture so far as to say there is absolutely nothing experimental here. But when Jonah Matranga (ex-Far, ex-New End Original, Onelinedrawing) sings his heart out, Mark Weinberg (ex-Crumb, ex-Softer) rocks out with a guitar line that your ears beg to hear more of, and the rest of the band melts into the sound, “This is the Part” will convince you that all that experience in songwriting, all that return-to-basics mantra, all the hype, and all the journalism actually has merit.

And it’s not just “This is the Part.” Even though that song takes the cake for ‘Most Rocking Song on This Album,’ every song has the features that make Gratitude great. The sound is cohesive beyond belief; when the band plays, the guitars, drums, bass, and keys are so in tune with what the others are doing that the sound ends up being virtually uniform throughout. Instead of a lead songwriter with a band backing him up, the band sounds like…a band! Nothing sticks out ever. That’s phenomenal.

Jonah Matranga can sing, too. He drives this album throughout with beautiful tone, amazing range, and unique syncopation to his vocals that keeps everything interesting. The intro to the lead track “Drive Away” is so syncopated that it was uncomfortable the first time I heard it; now I listen to it and smile, because no one else is doing anything like it. He can sing beautifully, but he can also muster up some passionate nearly-screamed parts on the brilliant “Lost.” The most exciting parts of the album are when he’s pushing his vocals to their brink. It’s exciting to hear, and even more than that, it’s exciting to hear the second and the third and the fourth and the fifth time.

Beyond just his vocals, the whole album has immense replay value. Once you take the thing as a whole, you can go back through and listen for individual parts. This album was recorded so well that even though the first glance is a massively cohesive sound, even the most lax of listeners can go back and pick out drumlines, bass parts, guitar swipes, even atmospheric keys here and there.

There’s going to be pundits who don’t like this because it doesn’t bring anything new to the table of rock, but who cares? If a CD is enjoyable, enjoy it. This album is not just enjoyable, it’s extremely enjoyable. It’s one of the few CDs that has gotten me excited this year, one of the few genuinely amazing albums out there this year. That’s phenomenal. So yes, believe the hype: Gratitude is amazing.

Over It – Silverstrand

I have Over It’s last release, and I liked it because the members of Over It were positively furious when they wrote the album. Timing is Everything is an album chock full of angry punk riffs, angry punk drumming, angry punk vocals, and angry punk lyrics.

Over It’s new release Silverstrand has very little of any of those things. The only angry punk riffs show up on the stand-outs “Ignore the Noise” and album-closing “Partner in Crime.” “Ignore the Noise” is a dark-punk slap in the face, a hearkening back to the old days of Over It. “Partner in Crime” is a new idea for Over It; it sees lead singer Peter Munters spitting lyrics like a machine gun as the band chugs along. It’s a mosh-inducing, fist waving, air-guitar rocking song. But those are the only two that I can say that for, in good confidence.

Several songs (“Truth is,” “Avalanche”) start out as if they were going to go dark and angry, but they all break up into upbeat, melodic, major-keyed punk that I’m sick and tired of. It’s being done by a lot of bands right now, and although I like Peter Munters’ voice, it’s not enough to carry a dead horse through a battlezone. It’s just not going to work.

With the death of the rapid-fire guitar lines came the death of the rapid-fire drum lines, which is sad. I loved hearing their drummer spaz out. The vocals are a lot more harmonized now; instead of sounding earnest and passionate, they sound pretty nicely done and very well produced. But do you really want ‘nicely done and well produced’ when there used to be an angry young man spouting lyrics of vitriol (yeah, those are cleaned up too)?

As a credit to Over It, the musicians do know where their dependency lies – they thank 87 bands (give or take a couple) that they have played with over the years in the liner notes. To recap, this is a good, angry band that got happy. Or if they didn’t, at least these guys made their anger sound and look a lot more happy. Here’s to change and its negative effects.

Various Artists – Little Darla Has a Treat for You, Vol. 22

Ah, here we are again: another compilation. Luckily, it’s from Darla, and that always means at least one song herein will be life-affirming and/or changing.

Without dissecting the album song by song (read: artist by artist), if you are a fan of the Cansecos, Pale Horse and Rider, or Freezepop, you will are in luck. The Cansecos’ “Beyond the River” is a standout among 18 other songs; Pale Horse and Rider contributes “Ali,” a pretty song about a pretty girl; and the Freezepop daft and dotty remix is cheesy and excellent, but who would expect any less?

Entre Rios, an amazing Argentinian band that is relatively unknown here in the US, offers a live track, “Lima,” that will make a fan out of anyone. But the title of life-changing-track-of-the-album goes to Thick Pigeon, a band from New York that tosses up a swinging Nancy Sinatra meets Beat Happening fix of disco swagger with “Riding” that is almost out of place among the chiller offerings of Lowlights and Mascott. Who is Thick Pigeon? Who knows, but it’s worth finding out.

Darla has long been known for its sweet pop, and with this recurring seasonal series, another batch of artists from around the world give you your pick of sweet morsels to choose from.

Mixel Pixel – Contact Kid

“They keep me up all night with eighties music! Cocaine! Model Parties!” Mixel Pixel joyously exclaims on “Tell Tale Drum Machine” with such giddy exuberance that if it weren’t for the overt drug references, the band would sound like 3-year-olds at a Sponge Bob-themed birthday party. And it is this carefree abandon that characterizes most of Contact Kid, an eclectic amalgam of lo-fi guitar fuzz, poppy synth squiggles, and excessive, yet endearing 80s allusions. It’s as if Pavement met The Unicorns in an acid-tinged time warp, threw in a few synthesizers, and sang about their high school years.

After the mentioning of some of the poppiest indie bands, you might expect Mixel Pixel to create fairly catchy melodies. However, many of the hooks are hidden and subtle, but after repeated listens they become more apparent and more appreciated. For instance, it takes about three minutes for “I Am the Contact Kid” to reach its full potential. It languidly lingers with elliptical acoustic guitar and spooky electronic warble before kicking into a frantic, pulsating, almost danceable guitar groove, which only gets better with each listen.

“At the Arcade” is by far the catchiest of the bunch. With its mellow electric twang and naively nostalgic lyrics about high school summers, girls, and drugs, it manages to be both endearing and reckless in its desire for a decade of excess gone by. References to 80s icons from Duran Duran to Ms. Pac-Man are neither cloying nor contrived, especially in such deft lyrical context. Along with lines like “We can score some killer acid / We can watch our heads explode, just like a car crash,” the cheesy mentioning of a new-wave band, along with the synth-pop perfection of the song’s outro, really enhances the band’s decadent and youthful desires. Contact Kid, however, is more than twisted high school nostalgia. Strewn between the lyrics about proms and locker rooms, randomly charming things like wolverines and enzymes get thrown in here as well. Such non-sequiturs catch you off guard, since most of the time you’ll probably be so caught up in the bizarre stew of strummy, fuzzy guitar, and glitchy electronics.

While most of the album works in a fairly insouciant vein, it should be noted that Mixel Pixel is more than just videogame-sampled synths and hipster pop-culture references. This band’s exuberant sound translates into something more than the sum of the album’s tracks. Contact Kid is a surprising case of low-budget production and excessive creativity forming playfully dark music in that you didn’t even know you wanted to hear. It’s a weird listen, but a welcome one.

The Soundtrack of Our Lives – Origin Vol. 1

Sloan did it once on the Navy Blues album, totally submerging in music that influenced the band over the course of the years. The hooks, riffs, and melodies were borrowed and transformed into a Sloan sound. Whether or not it paid off depends on who you talk to. The Soundtrack of Our Lives (TSOOL) do exactly the same on Origin Vol. 1. Taking, borrowing, and wading neck deep in bands that were influences can amount to a lofty task. The production needs to be just right, not to mention that you cannot fake intensity and sincerity.

Technically, I cannot find anything wrong with this TSOOL album. It is amazingly spotless and a guilty pleasure album. I want to hate this album with all sincerity, but I cannot. TSOOL, to me, sounds like every other modern alternative rock, Clear Channel band to me, but on Origin Vol. 1, the album flows so nicely from beginning to end that all out blitzkriegs of power rock seem to mesh with touching ballads.

The album opens up with “Believe I Found,” a fresh ballad that features TSOOL’s signature and amazing production as the vocals (Ebbot Lundberg) are outstandingly easy to pick up, even with the prevelant guitars, bass, handclaps, and drums. It doesn’t take long for the album to get into tribute mode. After the first track, “Transcendental Suicide” kicks in with unprecedented Who impressionism. Lundberg’s lyrics coupled with the band’s classic-rock riffs not are only tribute quality but are indictive of TSOOL’s sound. The rest of the album features amazing production and more classic-rock riffs a la the Rolling Stones, AC/DC, the Stooges, and Floyd. My favorite track on the album is the pysch-pop-rockish “Lone Summer Dream,” as the musicans seem to break away from their influences a bit to play a decent rock song with melodies, horns, and favorable lyrics.

When all is said and done, yes, Origin Vol. 1 could be guilty pleasure album for indie-rock fans, mainly due to the high-quality production. If the guys in TSOOL were Americans, we would be seeing them at every county fair with a huge pyrotechnics extravanza. Overall, I found myself liking their Who impressions but I could deal without the skipping around to the various influences. TSOOL just needs to find a sound, influence, and direction and go with it.

Neva Dinova – The Hate Yourself Change

Neva Dinova has been lurking just below most people’s radar since Crank! Records issued the band’s self-titled debut in 2002, and now it’s time to take notice. Despite releasing a split CD with Bright Eyes and touring in support of The Good Life, the band has always seemed like a side note to Omaha’s storied indie scene – but no longer. Mainman Jake Bellows and company have put together a folksy, country-inflected indie-rock album every bit as powerful as anything Conor Oberst or Tim Kasher have recorded to date.

Bellows is possessed of a remarkably distinctive voice. Simultaneously airy yet despondent, hopeful and yet resigned, it’s a powerful tool that he employs to great effect throughout the 11 songs here. The album starts off strong with “Hat O’er Eyes,” which Bellows performs solo on acoustic guitar. The song details a struggle to overcome hopelessness and act to improve his life, rather than waiting for the world to take care of things for him – “My job’s simple, I just got to see the stars for what / they are / They don’t grant wishes, and they don’t guide me, but they try, they try, now I’m going to try.” It’s a powerful encapsulation of the sentiment that permeates much of the album – the tension between despair and the desire to work to overcome life’s obstacles. Over the course of the following nine tracks, the rest of the band employs subtle bass and drum parts, tons of pretty guitar lines, and slide and keyboard flourishes that recall Wilco’s recent work as well as their fellow Nebraskans. Bellows and his guitar close out the album on the melancholy “I’ve Got a Feeling,” closing with a barroom chorus of “The world’s a shitty place, and I can’t wait to die,” which is at most half-serious.

Bellows displays some interesting lyrical predilections; he has a tendency to make disparaging comments towards God – “Can’t Wait to See You” references “drinking up an amber stout with this God I’ve heard so much about” – while the closing “I’ve Got a Feeling” is even more outward – “Scratching my nuts right at God, on second thought there’s no one there and I don’t give a fuck.” He also tends to drop profanity into unexpected places; witness the constant “fuck”s strewn throughout the album, or “A Picture in Pocket” – “I keep her close to my cock on a picture in my pocket.” It can sometimes bring the listener out of the moment, but after repeated listens it seems to be an honest reflection of Bellows’ character, and the album benefits from the reality.

The normally pop-emo-centric SideCho Records made a wise choice in releasing this album, which right now stands as a strong contender for the best disc of the year to date. The combination of folksy instrumentation and Bellows’ intriguing vocals and lyrics makes this one worthy of repeated listens.

Converge – Petitioning the Empty Sky / When Forever Comes Crashing

Converge has been around for nearly 15 years. It feels strange saying that out loud for some reason. In these 15 years, the band has amassed a huge catalog of EPs, splits, full-lengths, demos, compilations, etc. These re-issues, courtesy of Equal Vision, make these neo-classics readily available again, but not much else.

First up, Petitioning the Empty Sky. It’s hard to believe that this album is 10 years old. Anyway, this is generally marked as Converge’s first real release. The material previous to this was ok enough, but with Petitioning the Empty Sky, Converge more or less reinvinted the band into the dissonant beast they are today. Compared to the great albums to come, Petitioning the Empty Sky had some serious issues. The songwriting is terribly disjointed, and the recording is definitely flawed. But again, this was the beginning of the Converge we know and love today.

Next up is the legendary When Forever Comes Crashing. This album takes the sonic changes on Petitioning… to a whole new level. This one is much tighter and much more focused. To me, this represents the manifestation of the band’s previously exhibited talent and promise. Their focus leans even greater on the caustic chord phrasings and jarring rhythms. The recordings on both of the releases are improved somewhat, but there is only so much you can do with audio that was recorded 8-10 years ago. The guitars and drums particularly seem to have some added punch.

So, “Where are the extras?” you ask. Well, the most obvious extra are the revamped layouts. However, I definitely prefer the original artwork on When Forever Comes Crashing. Other than that, there are some live tracks on Petitioning… and an alternate version of “Bitter and Then Some” on When Forever... There are also CD-ROM features on both discs. They are “music videos” I suppose, but they are just live footage with the studio audio, so they aren’t that great. In addition, there is a biography of sorts that starts in the liner notes of Petitioning and is continued and concluded in When Forever. I guess that sort of ups the collector value, but there really aren’t enough extras to warrant buying these if you have the originals.

You can’t really go wrong with Converge, but these reissues are sort of disappointing. Converge has been so influencial and prolific that the band is often spoken of in hushed and reverent tones, so I was really expecting something special. The recordings are better, but the layouts and extras just aren’t doing much for me.

South San Gabriel – The Carlton Chronicles: Not Until the Operation’s Through

Give South San Gabriel’s new album more than just a few listens, I implore you. Yes, on first listens, you’ll no doubt enjoy the subtle and folk-influenced style of Will Johnson’s (Centro-Matic) music. Johnson and company (which includes all the members of Centro-Matic plus others for a community affair) mix folk and indie rock with pop to create subtle yet sweet songs in the vein of Smog or Sufjan Stevens, and that’s delightful in and of itself. Yet beneath the surface, you’ll find this is – with no apologies – a concept album.

The concept is not a new one. The main character, Carlton, resents his life and dreams of freedom, but upon achieving it, he realizes that his previous life was not so bad. The themes of mortality and reconciliation resonate universally through these changing tracks. The thing is, the story is told from the point of view of Carlton the cat, and somehow that changes the whole way you should listen to this album.

The opening “Charred Resentment the Same” is my favorite track, a quiet and pleading track of our hero’s need for freedom and disdain for his captor. Over the course of the album, he commiserates with his companions, makes a run at freedom, then returns when discovering the great wide world is not for him. The songs change styles subtly, nicely matching the themes of these lyrics.

See the melancholy country-rock of “Predatory King Today,” the very folky and rich “Affection’s the Pay,” and the very soft “This Rookie Runs.” These quieter tracks show the range of styles South San Gabriel offers. “The Dark of Garage,” telling the story of Carlton’s curiosity leading to an overnight stay in the garage, is a wonderfully sweet feeling full-band affair. “I Am Six Pounds of Dynamite,” besides being a wonderful title for a song about a cat, is a gloriously chiming and uplifting affair, and “Stupid is as Stupid Does” rides soft beats and gorgeous organ to send Johnson’s voice soaring in a dreamy and contemplative track.

Yes, perhaps there’s a bit of silliness in telling the story of a cat. This is Johnson’s side project, and he can be forgiven for trying something fun and creative. If the music wasn’t worthwhile, you may deride this as pretentious, but these songs are wonderful, rich, and lovely, soft and moving. Without knowing this is the story of a cat, you can immediately relate to the themes of these songs. And thus Johnson has written two concept albums, one a story of a pet and one of the human condition. It’s a wonderful affair and highly recommended on several levels.

Invincible Overlord – My Light is as Bright as the Sun

Trendy genre terms need not apply for Invincible Overlord. Tom Dumont and Ted Matson take a sampler’s approach to making music, but instead of actually sampling, they use instruments that have been around for years as components in grandiose anthems. There’s a real sense of appreciation for older things here, like each piece has a deep history behind it. It’s an amazingly poignant characteristic of Invincible Overlord’s, and you’re likely to get attached to their music quicker than you would think.

There’s something about “My Light is as Bright as the Sun” that I have to admit I can’t describe. I’ve got an arsenal of adjectives and fancy terms and creative lingo, but there’s something here, something that loses its extraordinary and enigmatic element when a translation into words is attempted. I don’t know if it’s beneath the borderline tribal “ooh”s and “aah”s or the piano that pulls directly at your innermost strings or the atmosphere of the piece in its entirety, but there’s something buried deep within this song’s three minutes of mysterious beauty. While the composition itself may be new, this indeterminable aspect sounds like it has been around since ancient times and makes “My Light is as Bright as the Sun” tower above the listener until they completely lose sight of where they once thought it began and where it ends. I’m talkin’ weird, compelling stuff here.

This is the kind of music for writers to write to, the kind of music creative people find something in, the kind of music that tells stories to anyone willing enough to listen up. Maybe it won’t hit you at first. Maybe it’s not the proper time, setting, or mood for the nebulous allure of Invincible Overlord to work its way into your mind, but rest assured, it’s there and it’s as alive as ever.

Hacha – Belly Up

Don’t call Hacha a jam band. I don’t think these guys would appreciate that very much, and for good reason, as “jam band” is more of an accusation than an innocent observation or compliment. Sure, they’re a little jammy – there’s a hint of… dare I say it and risk my position here at DOA as well as the respect of fellow indie music journalists everywhere…? Oh what the hell, there’s a little Dave Matthews Band, a little Dispatch, and a little Gov’t Mule in Hacha’s root-rock sound. But there’s a lot more blues influence, a lot more groove to it, and it’s just generally far more intelligent than any Phish-esque jam. Really, don’t worry – those comparisons don’t mean much. Hacha is actually good.

“Belly Up,” like most of Hacha’s other songs, wears its influences on its sleeve and isn’t afraid to roll that sleeve up when things get crazy. If your speakers happen to be leaking flames, don’t worry, that’s a normal side effect of Hacha’s absolutely sick guitar work. The bass is funkier than any other band sharing Hacha’s style would dare attempt to pull off. At times it sounds like every member of the group is blissfully shouting or harmonizing, showing a complete infatuation with their music. Hacha honestly sounds like a handful of friends just messing around with a classic sound, but a group of friends that happens to be insanely talented. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that these guys could play a song for as long they wanted to and easily keep it fresh and on all fours.

If this is where jam music is heading, I have one thing to say to the jammers of the world: by all means, let Hacha lead the way, and take some notes while they win over more and more of the O.A.R. fans.

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