Building 6 – Record 1

The guitar is twangy, the songs asymmetrical, the voice unique, and the lyrics clever. These strengths, coupled with quality production, make Record 1 by Building 6 a good alternative for music enthusiasts who are bored with indie’s present offerings. Fans of electric folk should especially enjoy this album by the Brooklyn based 4-piece.

Be warned: like a gimmicky pro-wrestler from 1986, sonically this album hails from parts unknown. Record 1 refuses all genres, so it falls in the catch-all label of “college radio”. Primarily you’ll hear country folk with jazz and rock. These elements clash as often as they fuse and, as a result, a good deal of listeners will find the music grating because pop and experimentation are still the flavors of the day in indie music, and Record 1 fits with neither indie beards nor New Weird America.

Like many of your old favorites, Record 1 seems to get a little better with each listen. Well, not the singing voice – but the guitar and lyrics especially grow on you.

“Lucky Seven” is a drink-induced winner. “A is for Angus” is a well-developed song and a strong representation of the album. “Dent in the Fender” hearkens Old 97′s, and it dares a pop sound. They’re not all winners: “5am Bus Drop” is probably best heard live; “Joe McCarthy’s Ghost” lacks the same fusion of elements that make the other songs winners. Nevertheless, it’s your loss if you don’t hit their MySpace.

The Boggs – Arm in Arm, Hot Chip Remix

The original version of “Arm in Arm” by The Boggs is danceable. It’s a very good song that bounces along with abandon. Imposing drums that sound at once synthetic and live start 45 seconds in and carry the torch for the rest of the song. An inebriated and tapped parade of instruments come and go en route, including a jangly, clipped acoustic guitar and a host of horns. The song doesn’t vary in pace – only in dynamics.

The Hot Chip remix of “Arm in Arm” kicks off with some vaguely tribal sounding precussion. The understated rhythm starts gaining steam, but that stops 45 seconds in when a stripped down and slightly warped synth-spitting dance track struts in. On the first listen, the remix sounds awfully pedestrian. But patience and familiarity with the original somehow make this fun.

One Jason Friedman of New York is The Boggs, and the new disc, Forts, is due out Spring 2007 on Gigantic Music. Previous releases are 2002′s We Are The Boggs We Are and 2003′s unreleased Stitches. More critical success is in store for The Boggs.

Lonely The Seabird – From The Top of The Stairs

The Ohio band Lonely The Seabird has produced a grab-bag of lo-fi indie rock with its From The Top of The Stairs release. The album contains 16 songs that range from the very short (0:33) to the very long (8:40), but almost nowhere does the album seem inspired or intriguing. The band probably had fun making it, but I’m not sure that the fun conveys much to the listener.

Certain moments reveal an affinity to Sebadoh, as on “Door.” The singer on that track even sounds like Lou Barlow: a little uncertain, a little wavering, maybe a little vulnerable. Everything goes fine until the guitar solo kicks in. It’s not the only guitar solo on this album. I’m not a fan of guitar solos unless they convey something meaningful and add something to the songs they’ve interrupted. Alex Lifeson knows how to write a guitar solo. The solos on this album just seem like time fillers. “Calcutta” backs its closing solo with repeated basic drum fills that someone new on the kit might dream up.

Apparently the singing duties get passed between three of the five members, one of whom’s nasal delivery makes for some difficult listening. “Fight Night,” for instance, almost sounds like a singer trying to make fun of other singers. “Commentary,” on the other hand, has a kind of GBV feel to it. Its 47 seconds seems manageable, and maybe that’s a clue to what’s missing from other songs. Keep it short and get your point across, leaving the listener wanting more. “Deer Run” has a fine melody as well, and its mix of acoustic and electric guitars seems right for the lament that this song becomes.

Kudos to any band that has the perserverance to actually write, record, and produce an album’s worth of material, and see it through to its publication and distribution. But it’s only on the songs that feel like more than a few guys knocking around in a garage that you get any kind of payoff here. Some garage-inclined listeners will probably find something to enjoy in the tunes on this record, but I suspect most listeners would rather grab a trusty Pavement or GBV record when they want to hear works in this vein.

Fennesz – Endless Summer (reissue)

It’s difficult to put into words what makes Endless Summer deserving of its status as a modern classic. While certainly inventive, it isn’t as if Christian Fennesz was the first to make this kind of noise. One look at the Oval back catalogue and one can draw a distinct line from Markus Popp’s 94diskont to Fennesz’ blurry abstractions. The intimate minutia of Endless Summer is in the fragments of digital feedback and processed electric guitar. It’s in the way you only become aware of the multiple melodies going on in any one of the album’s songs after repeated listening. I use the term “song” deliberately here because unlike other electronic, avant-garde, and noise records Endless Summer is made up of actual songs. Each has a life and character of its own, adding to the overall effect but singular in its own right. It doesn’t feel like the whole record is one long piece cut into tracks at arbitrarily determined intervals. Perhaps most importantly, and this is especially important considering the shelf life of most electronic music, six years on it still doesn’t sound the least bit dated. If any album in this decade could be worthy of claiming the rights to the throne vacated by My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless it is Endless Summer.

If there are those of you concerned about Fennesz’ fiddling with the mixing on his masterpiece, let me put your fears to rest. When I first heard that he would be remixing the record for its reissue I couldn’t imagine what could possibly be improved from the original version, until I finally heard Endless Summer on vinyl. The warm crackling tones and sunken melodies coming out of a thick slab of black vinyl as opposed to the original mix of the CD left me with the impression that there might indeed be room for a little tweaking. The Editions Mego version of the album brings its sound far closer to the vinyl than I could have ever imagined. The noisier parts of the record have been brought to the forefront, giving its transitions from post-shoegazer bliss to pure noise a more jarring effect than the original CD’s mix. Songs like “A Year in a Minute” with its undulating layers of treated guitar and synthesizer or the shifting sections of noise blast and drift on “Made in Hong Kong” show a depth still unmatched by any of Fennesz’ contemporaries.

The addition of bonus tracks “Badminton Girl” and “Endless” was a great way to grab the attention of fans who might otherwise be tempted to keep the version of Endless Summer they already own. While “Badminton Girl” was previously available on the out-of-print split 12″ on Fatcat with Main, this is the first appearance of “Endless.” While neither of these tracks is worthy of being included in the context of the actual record, as such they might spoil its excellent development and continuity, they are wisely tacked on to the end of the album. “Badminton Girl” is the kind of track you’d expect from an Endless Summer outtake, all glitchy noise overwhelming otherwise beautiful guitar pop. “Endless” is a short swooning drone that dissipates into sweet nothingness, effectively ending the album.

Fans of last years’ fave Tim Hecker and his Harmony in Ultraviolet would do well to pick this up and see where that sound really began to find its voice. Endless Summer is a record that sounds just as fresh now as it did in 2001. This is exactly the kind of record you’ll still be listening to ten years from now. It’s that good. Seriously.

Winning – This Is An Ad For Cigarettes.

Winning are a veritable who’s who of Vancouver underground art rock, containing members of Radio Berlin, Red Light Sting, A Luna Red, Secret Mommy, Primes, Heavy Party, and a slew of others. I don’t really know what to make of this record to be honest. I really wanted to like this record because Jack who plays guitar has been a good friend of mine for years now, but I just can’t get into it. It’s not for lack of trying…lord knows I have listened to this album at least ten or more times.

I think the reason as to why I feel so weird about this record is that there are no real melodies, or structured beats. It’s kind of a free form jazz-art-rock record, and maybe I’m not cool enough to get it. It seems as if they tried to be as weird as possible, just for the sake of it. I even asked Jack at length about their mindset while recording, in an attempt to maybe enlighten me and make this easier on me to review. To back up my assumption, he told me a bit about one of the parts. Jack said that they thought it would be funny to write a youth crew breakdown, but to imagine if the person was wearing mitts while playing it. So yeah, a record made for the band to get their snickers & political jabs, which Andy Dixon does in a vague sort of way, calling out mass consumerism and capitalism. Even the artwork is indicative of this.

Andy’s artwork is a little stale, as it seems as if all of his work fits into this very tight little certain niche. But another thing that Jack and I discussed, was the expectations in graphic design to always be fresh & new, while conventional art applauds you for staying the course & keeping your style. I don’t know. I mean, it’s a good record, and if you like hip noise records that sound good while stoned, then by all means, get this.

Light Yourself on Fire – Light Yourself on Fire

In the era of the compact disc, bands have up to eighty minutes (or more, if you think about the horror of double-albums) in which to make their musical statement. That’s an hour and twenty minutes, the average length of a Hollywood blockbuster. There are artists with large egos and no self-control who can find a myriad of ways to fill all eighty minutes with tedious fluff, and then there are those that can just as easily crank out a quarter-hour’s worth of songs and call it a day. Light Yourself on Fire falls into the latter category. Their eponymous debut EP is not the longest or most interesting record around, but because of its brevity is a much more listenable package than what many other bands in the genre could come up with.

The record begins with “960 AM,” a midtempo rocker with an abrasive main riff reminiscent of Helmet. Much like the record itself, the song does not overstay its welcome; after about a minute and a half it makes way for “Smells Like it Sounds”, which brings to mind Converge and groove-minded hardcore acts such as Unsane. The real meat of the EP, however, is in songs like “Rickshaw” and “4 Blows”, which are as formulaic as the rest of the album, but happen to be a bit catchier and more enjoyable than the rest. “Rickshaw’s” main riff is reminiscent of the material on Converge’s You Fail Me, albeit with a slicker, cleaner production and none of the Converge records’ experimental overtones. “4 Blows” is slower and more abrasive.

The review would be incomplete without mention of the EP’s great production. Instrument separation is very clear, the vocals are balanced and the guitar tone has just enough grit to it to remind the listener that they have a heavy record on. While not the most original music on the planet, Light Yourself on Fire’s debut is short enough to retain one’s interest while holding hope that their next effort will show more progress and innovation.

The Reformation – The Floral War

I listened to The Reformation’s Floral War without knowing anything about the musicians behind it. I thought to myself, “This album sounds like a singer-songwriter album. I wonder whether the singer will branch out on his own.” The musicians sound like they’re really there just to strum some chords or put down a modest rhythm to allow the singing to take the spotlight. As it turns out, Floral War‘s singer acts as the “band” already, having done this album on his own.

Westin Glass had some help from his friends, but this album consists primarily of him playing the instruments. A drummer in other bands, Glass apparently had guitar and compositional talents that might have been going to waste. The nine tracks on Floral War evince fine songwriting skills that tend towards power pop a la Nada Surf.

His rhythmic inclinations and skills surface on “Half the Battle,” where the odd time signature would disorient the most seasoned dancefloor maven. What’s cool about the song, though, is that it gels really well and doesn’t sound contrived or self conscious about its unusual structure. None of the album’s tracks makes you wince, actually, whereas solo efforts usually conatin at least a song or two that overreach or indulge in some “sounds good only to me” writing.

One of the highlights of the album is “The Flower Arraignment”, whose chorus throws in some bass notes that don’t quite fit (not in the same scale?) but really make the song. The Church and The Beatles have a way of doing this also. A subtle thing, yes, but it works.

“Yellowville” contrasts with the more typical power-chord arrangements of songs like “War to Win” and “Eleven Eleven.” Its quiet solitude reminds you of Kings of Convenience for all its hushed melancholy. The acoustic guitar picking sustains the mood of the vocals, which get into some short staccato at the end of every so-many lines in the verse. It’s a well-crafted gem.

The songs on Floral War benefit from their concision. It’s a pretty short album that will leave literate-pop fans wanting to hear more.

The Winter Blanket – Golden Sun

After the first two songs on Golden Sun, Winter Blanket’s new EP, I considered calling them Wet Blanket and writing a one-paragraph diss so I could go watch the Bears win the NFC Championship game. Singer Stephanie Davila does a sort of Chan Marshall impression only without the bluesy, pained soul leanings, and the band plays lazily and without focus. Another sad-sounding, Low-obsessed navel gazer band trying to countrify.

And then the pace quickens, and the last four tracks show some heart and menace. It’s not often a song called “Neil Young Blues” doesn’t induce that gag-reflex anyone over 25 has felt over the last five years–everyone loves Neil all the sudden, especially On the Beach, which, I’m sorry to report, is a wonderful album but not really Neil’s finest moment. (An aside–everyone loves The Band now, too, especially the Danko songs. Everyone knows it was Levon that made The Band the band.) But here’s the thing–when guitarist Doug Miller takes over the vocals, The Winter Blanket stop being a killjoy and actually make quite the impressive ruckus. His songs breathe life into the EP, and suddenly Davila stops Debbie Downer-ing and sings. Monotone rustlings become almost inspiring. Songs that could have limped now run–or at least they walk upright.

See the thing is, a lot of bands try to pull off the Gram Parsons School Of Country move, which is to play rock songs but add a twang. Nice as it may be to hear rock bands not scream out the lights, it doesn’t play well on record because most of them hear Parsons and Neil Young and Levon Helm as interpreted by Ryan Adams, Jeff Tweedy and Jay Farrar. The Winter Blanket get that, I think. The problem lies in the fact that this is a slow-core band trying to revamp their sound without rethinking their songwriting.

The band’s sound comes together on the EP’s title track, and an upcoming full-length will hopefully find them furthering their progression from Wet Blanket to Winter.

Corrina Repp – The Absent and the Distant

When Mark Kozelek began Caldo Verde Records to release his Modest Mouse covers album “Tiny Cities” it appeared that the motive behind its founding was to solely release Kozelek and Sun Kil Moon albums. It came as a surprise when Kozelek signed a relatively unknown female artist named Corrina Repp. However, after listening to The Absent and the Distant, the reason for Kozelek’s inclination to extend the bounds of his exclusivity becomes more apparent.

Repp employs a stellar cast of musicians including Adam Selzer of Norfolk and Western, Rachel Blumberg (M. Ward, Decemberists) and Joe Haege of 31 Knots. The result is a compilation of slow meandering ballads that evokes both inspiration and melancholy. The record rarely rises above a rumble as the sparse instrumentation and Repp’s delicate alto vocals ebb and flow at an unhurried pace, as if Repp is drawing the listener into the moonlight sea depicted on the cover art.

The fourth track “Afloat” is probably the most indicative of the album, a gentle piano arpeggio initiates the dirge and Repp’s vocals soon join in. The ‘chorus’ is merely an echoed bass and snare drum with twinkle-like piano trills as accompaniment. The paucity of the record is sometimes daunting, as drum, guitar, bass, piano, and vocals only coalesce a few times during the record’s brief thirty-two minutes. “Heavenly Place” features a lone guitar mimicking Repp’s vocal melody; first and seventh tracks are instrumentals.

Repp, like Kozelek, certainly has a penchant for listless melancholic songwriting. While Repp and Co. create some gorgeous moments, the continual brooding could make one lose interest after a few songs. However, if one has the right disposition, I recommend allowing The Absent and the Distant to engulf you in its resonance.

The Rocket Summer – The Early Years EP

There are a zillion ways to dismiss a record—point to imitation, call out banality, criticize sloppiness (the mordant critic might even condescend to argumentum ad hominem)—but all, inevitably, are spoiled by partiality. Then again, that’s the nature of record reviewing. If the readers don’t want to swallow it, all the better—it’d be foolish to follow a single stranger’s advice on matters of importance anyway. Awful records are released every week, however, and believe me, I tested about every possible dismissive stance for this EP by The Rocket Summer. Bollocks, crock, sack of shit, malarkey—I could use them all in the affirmative, and I would do so without hesitation if doubts did not continually resurface.
The doubts are there, I suppose, because while most people with an interest in independent music would consider me somewhat likeminded, there remain those few who, for whatever reason, would be utterly repulsed by defamation of The Rocket Summer. Call me spineless, but I still feel compelled to explain myself in this manner, even if these are the people who are responsible for the success of shows like Laguna Beach.
Now that that’s out of the way, The Early Years EP is the most abhorrent shot of fake-ass pop-punk I’ve ever heard. I can recall a few years back going to the Militia Group’s site, being assaulted by a streaming Rocket Summer track, and reflecting that here, certainly, was a label asking to be discredited. Now they’ve reissued The Rocket Summer’s self-recorded debut and the hole’s getting deeper. The EP comes off, needless to say, as an eager adolescent grasping desperately at facile popularity: Bryce Avary sounds like Jeremy Enigk trying to be cute, the chords only come in twos, and, O lost!, the lyrics are shamelessly maudlin. Pure poetry: “That’s Ok, I don’t care/ I can’t remember what happened there/ Something about how you loved me.” Here: If you have any doubts about this matter, or feel, perhaps, intrigued, take a look at this:

http://themilitiagroup.com/Sections/artistphoto.php?img=580_the_rocket.jpg.

Aw, that’s cute. Pigeon toes!

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