Jan Jelinek – Tierbeobachtungen

The first track on Jan Jelinek’s Tierbeobachtungen (Animal Observations) bears more than a striking resemblance to late-60′s krautrock icons CAN and Amon Düül II than one would expect from an electronic musician. Although the notorious “motorik” beat is nowhere to be found, it has a certain klang in its beautiful conglomeration of loops you aren’t likely to find outside of music from that era. Unlike the studious compositions of 2005′s Kosmitcher Pitch, this album was recorded in transit as Jelinek moved studios and the sounds used in its processes were more incidental as a result.

The easiest assessment would be to attribute the sounds on the record as a connection to the animals depicted on its cover. Certainly the comparison is there for the taking. The animals appear to embody a sense of freedom as one of them stands stoically on the crags of a mountainside. I believe the proper focus to be on the melodic passages contained therein which give more than a distinctive nod to the aforementioned krautrock aesthetic than any Jack Hanna expedition. While Kosmitcher Pitch was intended to magnify the detailed minutiae of the German psychedelic/progressive movement, it is Tierbeobachtungen that more accurately resembles the scene’s loose improvisation.

The album’s six tracks are built around four to five layered loops that seem to run indefinitely while Jelinek runs interference by juxtaposing them against high-pitched frequencies and low end electronic blurps. Two of these, “The Ballad of Soap und: Die Gema Immt Kontakt Auf,” and “Up to My Same Old Trick Again” share a humorous quality best reflected in the former’s approximation of generic cowboy cartoon music. You can almost see the tumbleweeds and dust clouds kicked up in its wake. And just so you don’t get the wrong impression this is in no way a “spaghetti western” send-up. This duo makes up the centerpiece of the record, providing a brief respite from the incidental guitar notes and warm synth tones of the majority of the album.

Jan Jelinek has had critics everywhere eating out of the palm of his hand since the impressive Loop-Finding Jazz Records. With his last album, Jelinek created a language that bridged the gap between the Germany of old and the new school of electronic music. What we’re seeing with Tierbeobachtungen is him strengthening the connection he established with his psychedelic forefathers on Kosmitcher Pitch. The result is an amorphous and picturesque document as seen through the eyes of a keenly focused producer.

Lee Hazlewood – Cake or Death

At the age of 77, Lee Hazlewood is still a defiantly obscure figure to many; better known for his savvy Svengali role in the success stories of Nancy Sinatra and Duane Eddy (and to a lesser degree for his influence on ‘60s studio pioneers like Phil Spector and Brian Wilson) than for his myriad of solo releases. Much of the misunderstanding surrounding Hazlewood’s personal repertoire does however come from his own wilful self-disregard for the “obscure shit” of his 20 or more albums, many of which remain frustratingly out-of-print. With the belated reverence of artists like Nick Cave, Sonic Youth, Tindersticks and Jarvis Cocker, Hazlewood was coaxed out of retirement in the late-‘90s; culminating in some choice reissues, a smattering of entertaining live shows and the release of the near-perfect For Every Solution There’s A Problem in 2002. Collecting together a stunning selection of sparse demo recordings retrieved from the vaults, For Every Solution There’s A Problem acted as a twilight years jaw-dropper on par with Johnny Cash’s American Recordings series. To some, it may have seemed like the proper place to stop. But being the contrary soul that he is, and enduring the trauma of terminal cancer, Hazlewood has opted for one last hurrah; with the warts ‘n’ all self-indulgence of Cake or Death.

To say that Cake or Death is Hazlewood’s best album or the easiest entry-point for newcomers would be a bare-faced fib. It is however, perhaps the most representative of his beguiling and baffling oeuvre; being equal parts silly, sentimental, soaring and sublime. Therefore there’s some undeniably perverse stuff to be found in amongst examples of Hazlewood’s diamond-like sparkle. You can pretty much file away all the duets in the ‘not-as-good-as-the-ones-with-Nancy-or-Suzie-Jane-Hokum’ section of the Hazlewood canon, with a truly bizarre reinterpretation of his seminal “Some Velvet Morning” (cut with granddaughter Phaedra Dawn Stewart) and the mixed-language rockabilly mess of “The First Song of the Day” (with German labelmate Bela B.) being the most perplexing. Stranger still, is the decision to give an entire song over to Hazlewood’s old sparring-partner Tommy Parsons, with the corny Mexicana-party number “She’s Gonna Break Some Heart Tonight”.

But if you can get past all of the above, you’ll be a fan already and for such loyalty you’ll be rewarded with a mini-album’s worth of buoyant and beatific Hazlewood moments. The topical satire of “Baghdad Knights” packs in fat guitars, big brass and swooning backing vocals, with almost the same aplomb as his ‘70s widescreen classic “Poet, Fool or Bum”. The superb “Sacrifice” recalls a sonic debt owed by Calexico, coupled with a typically witty lyric about a mysteriously alluring femme fatale. The string-soaked barfly-lament of “It’s Nothing To Me” will have fans of early-Tom Waits wrapt in awe, as will the poignantly autobiographical finale “T.O.M. (The Old Man)”. Elsewhere, the clavinet-squelching “Anthem” (hugely reminiscent of Hazlewood’s 1972 cartoon-funk opus 13) takes a well-poised pop at George W. Bush, with sage quips like “I always did what my mother told me/I never did vote Republican”. Whilst “White People Thing” mocks middle-American suburbia in a slightly clumsy blues-rock fashion, his most famous song – “These Boots Are Made For Walking” of course – is given a satisfyingly slinky makeover with the help of Duane Eddy’s trademark twang and a joyous jazz ensemble.

It’s obvious then, that Cake or Death isn’t the redemptive swansong Hazlewood fans had really hoped for, but neither does it totally trample on the man’s legacy. It is an album that acts as a metaphor for Lee Hazlewood’s singular career; unaccountably brilliant despite many acts of self-sabotage.

Turbobilly – Joyeuse Mort

Hailing from Bordeaux, French psychobilly group Turbobilly takes the unique sound of the Meteors and adds more jangling guitars, harmonized vocals and old fashioned rockabilly sound. While they sometimes lack the atmospheric tone and melodic depth of established rockabilly bands Tiger Army or The Koffin Kats, Turbobilly’s compact sound and musical precision give them an edge over their American contemporaries.

The churning sound of “Jungle Automobile” completes a quick beat with catchy bass fills, thrown in by upright bass player Jpax. After a minute point five of sparse psychobilly stomp, the song looses its frantic beat for a Slint-like breakdown. The beat slows down and the bass fades out almost completely giving way to bright guitar riffs and smashing guitar hits. The band brings it all back for a rockabilly inspired guitar solo to transition into a final chorus. The beat changing breakdown adds to the frenzy of the final chorus, begging the listener to sing along.

“Joyeuse Mort” follows a similar pattern, including a shorter but harder breakdown featuring a near bass-solo. Like Jungle Automobile, it ends with a climatic chant-variant of the chorus. Unlike Jungle Automobile, however, “Joyeuse Mort” maintains the steady pace and never lets up. This song, along with “Les Rats,” displays Turbobilly’s traditional psychobilly side: hard, unrelenting and (particularly “Les Rats”) spooky. For international psychobilly fans this is a pleasure, but the discerning music lover must look further down the road for Turbobilly to produce pleasantly innovative horror-pop. The potential is certainly there; their debut album, I Like To Sing With My Friends, features a western-like instrumental known as “Les Blues de Marcell…” complete with echoing guitar riffs and the haunting beat of Sergio Leone’s Dollars trilogy.

Hazmat Modine – Bahamut

Hazmat Modine is my new favorite band. Once you hear their debut album, Bahamut, you will understand why. With more horns and misfit instruments than you can likely identify, catchy rhythms spanning the last hundred years from throughout the world, and a bluesy groove that ties the whole album together, Hazmat Modine has a sound that captures the quintessential spirit of Americana. Listen closely, and you are likely to hear avante-garde jazz, New Orleans R&B, swing, jugband, rockabilly, bordello blues, Romanian folk, Middle Eastern, and klezmer styles… perhaps all in the same song. The musicians deftly play all manner of horns and harmonicas, as well as more obscure instruments like the Hawaiian steel guitar, flugelhorn, banjitar, claviola, sarrusaphone, and the sheng, a Chinese wind instrument. Borrowing rhythms and instruments from so many diverse sources to make a truly unique sound is the essence of American music, and Hazmat Modine may well be the new masters of Americana.

Bahamut opens strong with “Yesterday Morning”, a rocksteady-blues number with multiple harmonicas, tuba, saxophone and percussion and Wade Schuman’s vocals that are at once smooth and gritty. “It Calls Me” follows with bluesy guitar and Schuman’s falsetto voice, combined with the vocal accompaniment by Hun-Huur-Tu, a group of Tuvan throat singers, to make for an eerie, otherworldly sound. Next comes the title track, written about an aquatic creature of Arabic mythology. The first Hazmat Modine song I heard and still one of my favorites, it has an infectious calypso beat, fun lyrics, and horns and harmonicas that playfully complement one another before rising to a crescendo after a quiet, spoken intermission about Bahamut.

Lost Fox Train (for Joe) is a jaw-dropping harmonica solo that demonstrates what an amazing musician Wade Schuman is. The three-and-a-half minute song ranges from Appalachia to honky-tonk, with smooth, flowing notes to staccato, doppler-like rhythms, and unexpected vocalizations and barks through the harmonica… all of it expert and unlike anything I have ever heard before.

“Who Walks In When I Walk Out?” is another favorite song. A modern rendition of Al Goodman’s original, with a slow Middle-eastern influenced intro that leaps into Romanian, Hawaiian and ragtime sounds and lyrics that tell the classic blues story of being run around on. “Who walked in when I walked out? / Who gave me that Hi, baby? / Who’s that cat that’s got me jealous of you?”

Bahamut is an all-around incredible album. Every track is excellent and there is not a second of wasted sound on this record. Considering that Hazmat Modine have been playing the New York music scene for over eight years and Bahamut was just released in August, it took a while for them to record their first album. It is, nonetheless, a phenomenal debut and I only hope Wade Schuman and company continue creating music this good for years to come.

Frozen – Worcester – Palladium, MA – 2006-11-05

The cold air that penetrated my bones on the evening of November 5th, 2006 was an omen of things to come. That night, two friends and I set out on a pilgrimage from Connecticut into the heart of Worcester to see the legendary Swiss metal band Celtic Frost. When we entered the venue we noticed that the cold had not left. In fact, it lingered throughout the night; even as I fought it out in the frenzied, animalistic mosh pit during CF’s set.

Upon our entrance to the Palladium, my traveling companions and I took a seat at a small table above the soundboard. We had a decent view of the stage and were free of the burden of standing for three hours straight. A glance at the merchandise table told us that while Celtic Frost’s t-shirts were well-designed and cheap, their hooded sweatshirts, belt buckles and necklaces were less than affordable for three broke college students. Despite my financial woes, I felt obligated to pick up a black-on-black Celtic Frost logo t-shirt.

Massachusetts locals Frozen took the stage at around 8:30 and treated the audience to a sloppy, disjointed amalgamation of metal styles. The band sounded tight; unfortunately their compositions and lead singer did not. The band’s frontman immediately thanked the audience for “…sticking around to see the first band,” all while posturing like a male diva on a reality television show. His vocals left much to be desired, hopping from a guttural roar to thin, strained pseudo-operatic baritone in an instant. The music leapt from cliché to cliché, never dwelling in one style long enough to develop a unique or interesting sound. While some songs were built upon interesting ideas, they never seemed to coalesce into a compelling whole. Frozen’s set quickly became a bathroom break as I wondered when Goatwhore would hit the stage!

Goatwhore went on at about 9:30 and upped the level of intensity in the still-chilly building. Imposing frontman Ben Falgoust strode across the stage, confidently wielding the crowd in his hand like a malevolent puppeteer. Still seated, I was able to witness the band from afar without getting harmed by the moshing masses below. Despite their somewhat derivative musical nature and obvious Celtic Frost influence (which Falgoust pointed out numerous times to the captive audience), Goatwhore are a formidable live act that hopefully gained some new fans that evening.

Despite the warm-up provided by Goatwhore, the Palladium still retained its chill. The building was far from packed, and even as we moved to the floor and got closer to the stage, it was still alarmingly cold! About twenty minutes after Goatwhore tore down and took their gear offstage, the venue’s speakers were assaulted by feedback. Fog began to rise from the stage, and a black banner adorned with the jagged Celtic Frost logo descended from above. Anticipation and tension penetrated the anxious crowd; for many of us (me included) this was the first time we’d see the band live.

The smoke and ambience continued for at least fifteen minutes more. At first, the audience cheered the intro tape. After ten minutes of it, though, we began to grow impatient. The smoke machine blew empty promises in our faces as the intro tape rolled on into oblivion, and the cold slowly began to work its way into my bones. I wasn’t sure what was worse, the cold or the wait. For the next five minutes the tape grew more and more complex, adding layer upon layer of drone and guttural vocal until suddenly the lights dimmed, and the weary crowd unleashed its approval: Celtic Frost had arrived.

The band, in formal attire and face paint, strode onto the stage and stiffly broke into “Procreation of the Wicked” from the classic Morbid Tales album. The song was tuned and slowed down considerably to match up with their newer material, and unfortunately was a poor choice of opener. However, once they hit “Visions of Mortality” and “Circle of the Tyrants” from the same album, the band slowly worked into a lumbering, minimalist lurch that won over the adulation of the headbanging crowd. After a slew of metal classics (including “The Usurper” and “Jewel Throne” from 1985’s To Mega Therion), bassist Martin Eric Ain temporarily took to the mic to introduce “Ain Elohim” from their newest album, Monotheist. The song sounded like an unearthed classic next to the older material, and the crowd worked itself into a frenzy moshing and singing along.

However, it was with the introduction of “Necromantical Screams” that the show finally hit its apex, which continued well into its conclusion. The band’s decision to tune down was a wise one, as it lent the entire set great continuity as well as a massive heaviness. The music had an oppressive weight that forced the audience to lash out as though in fear of their lives, a slowness that carried more weight than the heaviest, most ancient dinosaur. The last time I saw a band wield such power and evil in their hands was at Sunn O))) almost a year ago, whose booming low drones nearly stripped my skull of its contents.

The one opportunity Celtic Frost took to speed things up was during “Into the Crypts of Rays” off Morbid Tales, a classic thrash metal tune with hints of Discharge and Slayer. The band sounded genuinely vicious, young and full of venom as they dusted off this gem and once again coerced the cold audience into violence. I took quite a few hits in front and nearly lost my footing as chaos erupted all around me. Frontman Thomas Gabriel Fischer asked the audience multiple times “Are you morbid?” By the end of the show, I was afraid to say no. In fact, the entire crowd answered with a resounding “UGH!”

Despite a few past missteps and some silly stage attire (especially on the band’s second guitarist, who resembled John 5 of Marylin Manson fame), Celtic Frost proved their status that night as not only a valid touring band, but as legitimate and relevant in 2006 as they were in 1986.

Celtic Frost Setlist:
Totengott (Intro tape)
Procreation of the Wicked
Visions of Mortality
Circle of the Tyrants
The Usurper
Jewel Throne
Ain Elohim
Necromantical Screams
Dawn of Meggido
Mesmerized
Ground
Return to the Eve
Dethroned Emperor
Into the Crypts of Rays
Synagoga Satanae

Luna – Best of/Lunafied [European Edition]

When it comes to veritable American alt-rock institutions of the last decade or so, the clichéd adage of “you don’t know what you’ve lost till it’s gone” rings repeatedly and depressingly true. For when Luna disbanded amicably in 2005, not enough of the music-loving world paid their due respects, despite over 13 or so years of charming consistency. There are many identifiable reasons for the group’s relative anonymity of course. Singer/songwriter Dean Wareham’s preceding stint in the near-legendary Galaxie 500 has certainly cast a mythical shadow over all of his later works, that’s been impossible escape. Troublesome record label shifts have derailed favourable trading terms; with Elektra dumping the band in the US after 4 albums and Beggars Banquet neglecting to license 2004’s swansong album, Rendezvous, for European release. Aesthetically too, Wareham and co. have rarely fitted into prevailing fads or fashions; often being too mid-tempo, too geeky and – until the installation of bassist Britta Phillips – totally lacking in sex appeal. Whilst such factors may have unfairly conspired against Luna on a commercial level, it did allow the group to steer a rewarding creative course that can be retrospectively recognised, as this double-CD set happily contests.

Whilst this European Beggars issue of the Luna’s ‘hits’ compendium does churlishly exclude extracts from the aforementioned US-only Rendezvous album, it has the edge over its Stateside Rhino counterpart through adding a slightly different edition of the previously download-only Lunafied covers collection as a bonus disc. Collectively these two CDs offer the fullest picture possible of Luna’s evolution, individuality, influences and wilful sense of mischief.

The choice selection of Luna album tracks and singles on the first disc gives a great grounding on the band’s studio canon; picking songs that capture the complete – albeit narrow – stylistic spectrum of Luna’s wares but which also gel together well as a likeable standalone long-player. Highlights abound, especially with songs from 1995’s acclaimed third LP, Penthouse. There’s plenty of gorgeous Galaxie 500-like dreaminess – thankfully minus the reverb-heavy fogginess – particularly on the elegiac “Anesthesia”, the deeply lovely “Lost In Space” and the jazz-inflected “Into The Fold”. In-between times, Wareham’s notable affection for the whimsical self-deprecating penmanship of Jonathan Richman is wrapped-up in the indie-pop of “Bobby Peru”, “Sideshow By The Seashore” and “Black Postcards”. Although Wareham’s gang members were never big experimentalists, the looped percussion, intricate bass-lines, mangled guitar noise, distorted trumpet and stream-of-consciousness lyrics on the imaginative “IHOP” showed that they could once have given the likes of Yo La Tengo or American Analog Set a run for the post-rock money. For the bulk of the band’s lifespan however, Luna’s links to The Velvet Underground/Television NYC-rock lineage were never shied away from, as is clearly evident on the most speed-driven moments collected here. In fact, for the blissful frenetic chug of “Friendly Advice”, The Velvets’ sadly-departed Sterling Morrison even chipped-in on guest guitar, as did Television’s Tom Verlaine for the towering epic strains of “23 Minutes In Brussels”.

Despite being culled from various b-sides and non-album sources, there’s no dramatic dip in quality throughout the bundled Lunafied disc, which finds Wareham reinterpreting elements of his diverse record-collection with fun, fondness and flair. From the sublime shoe-gazing treatment of Beat Happening’s “Indian Summer”, via a spectral six-string reworking of Kraftwerk’s synth-pop gem “Neon Lights”, through a stirring stab at Donovan’s “Season of the Witch” and a spooky drum-led reconstruction of Suicide’s “Dream Baby Dream”, there are lots of marvellous makeover moments to be found. The only downsides come from the absence of the previously released Luna renderings of Jonathan Richman’s “Dance With Me” and “Fly Into The Mystery”, the strange decision to include two marginally different versions of Serge Gainsbourg’s “Bonnie And Clyde” and the sad omission of the group’s reworking of The Stones’ “Waiting On A Friend”. Minor gripes aside though, Lunafied gives Wareham the future option of fronting the best quirky covers band around, should his post-Luna career ever turn sour that is.

Overall, this smartly compiled Luna anthology achieves the rare feat of being both a well-signposted route into a neglected back catalogue and a tasty self-contained appetite-sating feast. Investigate and dig-in without delay.

Conelrad – Fear And Abandonment

Alright, this next set of reviews is going to revolve around Adam McGregor. You might know him from Fate Of Icarus, or maybe you have heard of a little band called Creation Is Crucifixion? If you haven’t heard either of those bands, then man, you should probably sell your metal records & go buy the back catalogue of Polyvinyl.

This first entry is Conelrad, some sweet grind band from Pittsburgh that Adam plays guitar in & screams for. & The drummer, well, he plays in this Christian metal band that begins with a Z & ends with an Ao, but I think his playing in Conelrad is a lot more manic & less double bass driven. He plays these rad off time beats with really great time signatures, & doesn’t rely on the formulaic grind blast beats.

“Fear And Abandonment” is off of their latest seven inch, Sluts And Slobs. The song starts out with a furious guitar squall & a solid drum roll that breaks into some fairly straight forward four on the floor beats with a thrash guitar part layered over it. Adam’s vocals are kind of low for this genre, more metal than they are grind, but I like them better that way. Then Adam plays a few awesome note progressions, & the song then just ends up flailing in the best of ways. Towards the end there is what I guess you would call a breakdown, but moreso in the smart guy way, not the Throwdown type of way. What more can I say, I love this band.

The Classic Brown – Down With Fun

The Classic Brown is primarily Canadian artist Stacey Brown with various friends adding their talent to the mix. This is Brown’s first full length, following her debut EP which was also self-released. David Downham, Steve Poponi, and David Dunn round out the cast on Down With Fun along with a few guest appearances for added flavor. Or is it flavour.

Stacey Brown dazzles with her introspective lyrics and simple music that is anything but over the top. Not even halfway through the album for the first time and I was instantly falling for the breathy vocals, sweeping acoustics and sweet charm that is The Classic Brown. The album as a whole has warmth to it that is often missing from artists that make music for reasons other than fun or pure enjoyment. Brown loves to make music and it shows. She also happens to be quite good at it.

Brown’s vocals remind me of the soft sound of Amy Millan from Stars. Like Millan, Brown sounds girly and sweet without the syrup or any hint of punk. The result is a voice that you want to listen to whether she’s singing about love or war and backed by a full orchestra or just one guitar.

“Baby-Making Bodies” explodes onto the scene with a simple, yet catchy pop tune that will grab you instantly. What starts out seeming like it could be a stripped down acoustic number, continues to add layers as it makes it’s way through the tune along with an electric guitar supported chorus. Next up is “Hit Parade” with another catchy number that rides along on a steady drumbeat.

The next two tracks provide a glimpse into what the Smoosh sisters might sound like in 10 years. “Rally Song” is a slower song that includes an upbeat chorus that is filled out with drums and keys. The keyboards replace a bass tone with a sound that is characteristic of nearly every song Smoosh has done in their young career. This is also seen in “Modulation” which starts right out with the signature keys then follows with smoothly layered vocals and soft drums.

There’s a good reason why I am not typically a huge fan of female-led bands. They all too often sound whiney and obnoxiously punk or they provide the listener with a full set of acoustic guitar-backed tracks that all sound strangely similar. But Brown is neither of these. Her voice is neither whiney nor boring and after 10 tracks, all clocking in around 3 minutes, she doesn’t overstay her welcome and in fact, one can’t help but wish there were a few more. From alt country tinged acoustic numbers like “Little Kensington” with beautifully layered vocals to quirky, upbeat tunes like “The Body Politic” and slightly darker ones like “The Accident”, all with well-thought out lyrics, there is so much to enjoy and little to wish for. The only thing keeping Brown away from a record deal is probably the fact that she hasn’t even tried to get one.

The Mars Volta – Amputechture

I’ve never been one to permanently immerse myself in bands that have an almost religious-like following. Coheed and Cambria is probably the best contemporary example, and they have merchandise stacks to prove it. As far as The Mars Volta goes, I wore out De-Loused in the Comatorium using it as the soundtrack to my high school commute every morning. I saw them play songs off that for over two hours in Rochester, and in a way that completed the experience for me. After my interest had peaked, I moved on to discover other bands to obsess over. With that said, I’m definitely not a source for the best opinion out there for Amputechture, the newest Mars Volta invention. I haven’t even given Francis the Mute a legitimate listen, and that record is the stepping stone in their discography.
This is the same band I fell in love with just a few years ago, but definitely not in every manner. The acoustic driven “Asilos Magdalena” is sung in Spanish, call me closed minded but it’s just too silly. There’s no sense in joining the polar “rules” or “sucks” arguments that plague this band. Most of the album sleepwalks through the speakers, but “Vermicide” especially reminds me of the glory days when Bixler-Zavala shouts fall into stabs from guitarist Omar Rodriguez-Lopez.
Cedric Bixler-Zavala’s vocals are still largely unchanged, and his indecipherable, seemingly random choice of words is a familiar trait as well. The music, on the contrary, doesn’t possess the grip that made me wear the debut album out. Without going into essays of detail attempting to flex my vocabulary, I will reaffirm what I stated earlier. This band doesn’t do it for me anymore. Writing this review has made me tired, and I blame listening to Amputechture.

84 – Promo Tour Single

Australians, eh? Sonically, I could’ve sworn these guys would be from Detroit circa 2001. That’s neither a good thing or a bad thing for 84 – just more a statement on where the musicality of this ‘promotional tour single’ lies.

Of course, it’s only fitting that the sleeve for this CD single denotes a September 2006 trip to Chowtown Studios in (you guessed it, heh) Detroit. The really, really, REALLY long flight to the Motor City was set for the purpose of recording 84’s debut full-length album; the title track, “You, Me and Infamy,” is represented here in demo form. It’s a damn rollicking song, actually, sounding an awful lot like all of the Greg Cartwright projects that were intense, spasmodic and absolutely awesome, yet criminally overlooked (i.e., Reigning Sound, Oblivions, The Compulsive Gamblers). The track rumbles in murky low-end (it IS a demo, ya know?), but the sentiment and the gritty, shove-a-pencil-through-your-amp sound of the guitars comes through loud and clear.

The ‘A-side’ here represents the 2005 EP Use Me. “Li’l White Soul” sounds like something Van Morrison would’ve done in the late 60’s, or maybe something Scott Morgan would be doing these days. The track’s got a dry, white-guy funk vibe to it that’s danceable in a ‘headbang’ kind of way.

I’m assuming that the fellas in 84 are just HUGE fans of Detroit Rock City’s musical ‘heritage,’ because if “Li’l White Soul” proves anything, it’s that the band was obviously quite capable of turning out decent quality production in Melbourne. 84 definitely wears its heart on its sleeve musically; it’s pretty damned refreshing to see someone doing it through international travel as well, though. The band’s got another rocking song along the same lines as these posted on its MySpace page; for those so interested – http://www.myspace.com/84ishere.

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