Zozobra – Harmonic Tremors

This is the album that Cave In Fans had wished Perfect Pitch Black would have been. Mixing the ferocity of Old Man Gloom with Until Your Heart Stops era Cave In, with equal parts Frodus, Godflesh, and Unearthed.

Caleb’s voice is stronger on this album than any other thing I have heard him on, even including Christmas (gasp! blasphemy!) Although I do have to say that when I very first listened to this record, I thought that Hydra Head had somehow goofed and sent me a copy of the new Cave In album. Caleb’s singing voice sounds quite a bit like Stephen Brodsky, which I guess is inevitable after playing together for so long.

The guitar playing is immaculate. The tone he gets on this album is amazing. It mixes heavy histrionics with this great dissonant ambiance. My favorite track off of Harmonic Tremors is “Levitate,” which starts out with this great guitar line. It reminds me quite a bit of Frodus’ last album, And We Washed Our Weapons In The Sea, till the midway point of the song, where it goes off into this Unearthed part, if Unearthed had listened to more Godflesh and less Dead Can Dance.

Now to the drumming. Santos Montana has been a favorite of mine for a while because his drumming in Old Man Gloom is simply amazing, and he doesn’t disappoint here for a second. His drumming is strong, yet restrained, adding the right flourishes to propel the songs.

If you don’t get this now, you’re a complete idiot.

The Frames – The Cost

I often hear comments about what people think is wrong with today’s music industry but what is rarely ever touched on is the listeners. Oftentimes, I feel that today’s listener treats music like fashion where it’s all about the image and the latest trends. This is incredibly unfortunate because genuinely great bands like The Frames can go unnoticed for years while the latest trendy band can sell out shows. What happened to enjoying the music for the music? Who cares how you think others might judge you based on your record collection? Music is not a piece of clothing, it is something that is part of you and that you immerse yourself in and enjoy on an emotional level. Or at least you should.

The Frames have been around since the early 90’s and their career has led them to become highly influential in the Irish music scene. From listening to just a few tracks on their album Setlist, which was recorded live in Dublin in November of 2002, you can begin to feel the power of their homeland audience. Especially in “Rent Day Blues” where the crowd finishes one of front man Glen Hansard’s lyrics. The band also sounds like they are eating it up and playing off the energy and connection with their fans. It is this genuine love for the music that makes them not just a good band, but a great band. I saw them live a couple years ago and there was only a small group of fans crowded around the stage. But the band played their hearts out as if they had thousands of people hanging on their every note. They delivered a performance so amazing that I get all caught up in the moment each time I listen to the recorded versions of the same songs. This kind of emotional connection is very rare among bands these days.

In their sixth studio album, The Cost sees The Frames lowering the energy level a few notches from their undeniably amazing 2005 release, Burn The Maps. Their latest effort, which Hansard has said is “their seventies folk record,” definitely leans more towards folk than rock and displays a quieter quality that is reminiscent of For The Birds. Opening the album with only Hansard’s voice over sparse acoustic guitar in “Song For Someone,” it’s immediately obvious that this album has a different focus than some of the more violently rocking efforts of the past. The song does see some classic Frames moments where Hansard begins to let his voice loose among Colm Mac Con Iomaire‘s lush violin arrangements. But he doesn’t quite achieve the “live” effect and manages to keep himself under control.

“Falling Slowly” is an easily accessible track full of sweeping cinematic vocals over driving guitar, piano and panoramic string arrangements. It has always been difficult for The Frames to find their way toward new audiences through radio play but “Falling Slowly” as well as “People Get Ready” could have such potential. “Falling Slowly” also appears on Hansard’s solo album, The Swell Season, with Czech singer and multi-instrumentalist Marketa Irglova. While this song is certainly one of the attention grabbing tracks on The Cost, it lends itself more to the quietly emotional and heartfelt arrangement on the solo album rather than the more grandiose version.

One of the best songs on the album, “Sad Songs,” has Glen Hansard channeling the voice of Cat Stevens and moves in the right direction towards achieving the “seventies folk” sound that the band was looking for. With unbridled fiddle, subtle Americana-influenced harmony and a classic seventies-style guitar motif, this song helps to hold the album together and keep the collection from slipping dangerously close to monotony. The title track is another one of the great tracks with a slow-core, darker tone fed by fuzzed out electric guitars and violin piercing the darkness with a melancholy beauty.

Among the enjoyable moments, there are areas within the album that are not so stellar like the ending in “True”. The song starts out as an introspective ballad with little more than vocals over a sparse piano and later joined by minimal percussion. Then in the last minute, Hansard engages in throaty screaming over female backup singers melodically chanting a few pointless lines, which actually ends up pushing the screaming to the background and completely ruining the song. And I find the windshield wiper-like squeak throughout the entire backdrop of “People Get Ready” to be more of an annoyance than a welcome addition.

The Cost is hardly a poor album – in fact it’s a quite good album – but after the release of so many gems, I find it difficult for it to completely measure up to the stiff competition. This is actually a compliment to a band with a solid catalog that they should be proud of. There are many moments of brilliance on their latest release and Mac Con Iomaire’s violin arrangements shine as always but unlike some of their previous albums, it feels more like a collection of songs rather than a full beginning to end experience. Instead the album rides along on little shift in tempo and lacks in the raw passion that makes this group so unique, which is uncharacteristic, and honestly, not something I would have expected of a Frames album. So if you are not a die hard fan and are instead new to The Frames, go check out their 2005 release, Burn The Maps an album that intelligently blends the gloriously dramatic noise of Dance The Devil with the emotional intimacy of For The Birds for an experience that will have you salivating for a live performance.

Sono Oto – The Apple EP

The liquid running down your chin after polishing off Sono Oto’s The apple EP may only be the drool prompted by the sugar-induced coma you just fell into. Relentlessly bouncy and drawing from the same sunshine-pop well that sustains the Elephant 6 diaspora, Sono Oto can likewise lure you along with a hook whose only purpose is to cheerily nag itself into your brain. How much you’re willing to succumb to the magic fairy dust depends on your temperament, but if you’re weak for handclaps and harmonies, The Apple EP is definitely worth a nibble.

Mark Phillips is the core of Sono Oto, a Columbus, Ohio transplant whose bio alleges some exotic, intercontinental peregrinations before his arrival in Brooklyn. Wherever he may or may not have roamed, it was that seminal Beatles mixtape that he compiled as an innocent ‘tweener which fueled his inspiration. But one has to wonder how many of John’s songs made it to that tape. The Apple EP is an almost exclusively whimsical affair, with similar follow-the-bouncing-ball rhythms and bright piano vamps, yet it overcomes its apparent triteness just enough with smart little passages and a cute conceit.

Each song is named for, and sung to, a different kind of apple. If you don’t care for the jubilant “Empire” (“tastes like saccharine,” says Phillips), there’s “Granny Smith,” which is precisely as jubilant, but with an apropos tang in the mild tension of it’s chorus’ chords. The apple/girl metaphor leans more towards the fruit on this track with Phillips noting, “that artificial smell/that artificial taste.” It sounds like he’s had some bad apples, not that you’d sense any trace of heartbreak in these up-up-up-tempo tunes.

Then again, there is the repeated cry of “I’ve lost everyone I have loved” on the closer “Honey Crisp.” It’s hard to believe that, but the tune at least flirts with danger in the slightly ominous swell that ends each chorus. A brief shard of feedback cuts through and threatens some damage, but it fails to materialize and the song ends on this curiously dark refrain.

Best of all is the adorable “Northern Spy,” and Phillips’ sweet vocals, especially. The sensible production helps a lot, too. Phillips voice and piano are front and center, and the rhythm section is understated but animated. Glimmers of keyboards and rare guitar color the mix with welcome subtlety, as any heavy-handedness would’ve spoiled the fun. Sono Oto counters the pleasant but growing monotony with “Malus Domestica,” a ripe red ballad that hangs in the air, alive with chittering electronics and the distant whistle of a theremin.

Whimsy was the case they gave The Apple EP, a touch too much for those not predisposed to it, surely. Thankfully the songs don’t settle for being merely cute; they most often develop a strong idea of their own. And Phillips isn’t married to this persistent over-overjoyed rhythm, either; his previous release I’m in August till July plays with different tempos enough to establish versatility of feel beyond the giddy romp of this disc. The Apple EP is tasty enough on its own, though. Just remember, while you’re mopping up your chin, you might want to wipe that grin off your face, too, before some less sunny soul does it for you.

Interview with Lovitt Records

“I feel like Lovitt is relevant, but others may not,” says label founder Brian Lowitt. “It does not matter to me if others view it the same way as I do.” This is the sort of “no-nonsense, punk aesthetic” that Lovitt and its bands have shown off since things began back in 1995. Started in Greensboro, N.C. and later moved to Arlington, Va., Lovitt Records has documented the existence of D.C and Richmond area bands like the Frodus, Impossible Five, Four Hundred Years, Sleepytime Trio, Rah Bras, and Bats and Mice. Sounds range from the quirky styling of bands like Monorchild to the melodic aggression of Engine Down, yet the aforementioned ideals remain consistent.

But taking things so seriously and having such a strong desire can cause some problems. “Running a label is definitely a huge strain on my personal and financial life. I am lucky to have an understanding wife,” says Lowitt. “In the end it has been well worth it, but I have thought about closing the label on many occasions and came really close one time. The label will not go on forever, but I am not sure what would be the deciding factor in stopping it. Only time will tell.”

On the other hand, such dedication obviously pays off in the long run. An example of one of the benefits would be the admiration of the people you support and work with. Lovitt artist Ben Davis is proof of this, putting things as straightforward as he can when asked about his relationship with the label. “I have known Brian Lowitt for quite a few years. He has worked tirelessly over the years to put out music he believes in. He has slaved as a labor of love to help friends put out music and realize their dream of being in a band that tours and has albums recorded and distributed internationally. He has helped his bands tour the United States, Canada, Europe, and Japan. He is always there for any of his bands, as a friend, to talk to and to listen to. He has worked without paying himself the entire time of his label, always putting any profit back into the label. He works so hard trying to improve the label and grow it as a company. He is very much appreciated by me and my labelmates. A stand-up guy to the extreme. I love him. The Lovitt family is a good one to be a part of, for sure.”

That sense of family is something Lowitt strives for with everyone he and his label works with. “I would like all independent labels to be a happy, nice family, but that is not really true. A lot of labels view others as competition and worry about what the other ones are doing and try to compete against each other for bands and can be cut-throat. We are not interested in competing against other labels, and we try to stay concerned with what we are doing, not others. We interact with a lot of other cool labels that are very friendly and we share advice, horror stories, etc. We owe a lot to a few labels that have helped us out along the way. I always try to return the favor by helping people that come to us for advice.”

Jason Wood of Engine Down reinforces how much of a family environment the label provides. “It is very much a group effort. When I call Brian from the road to tell him that so-and-so doesn’t stock the record, he looks into it and does what he can to make it happen or to explain why it is not there. He is a tops dude. Every year, many of the band members and friends try to go to Kings Dominion for the day. It’s an amusement park. This year, since Dischord has been so involved in Lovitt, a lot of them are coming out as well. We all are buds and working together as friends. We work through limitations and problems and come up with answers. It is a big family … It has been great being on Lovitt. The label has grown in the same path as the band. As we have stepped up touring and trying to keep the ball rolling, Brian has too. He is always up to suggestions and we are to his. Brian understands where the band is coming from. He does everything he can to provide for all the bands. If he is thinking about putting a new band on the label, he always asks us what we think.”

Like so many others in similar positions, Lowitt cites the idea that you’re going to make a lot of money as the biggest misconception about running your own record label. He says the willingness to put in lots of hours and have tons of dedication are the only ways to make a real go of it, recalling a lack of organization early on as the biggest mistake he has made with the label thus far. But if someone were to ask him for advice, he would tell them: “They should be doing it for the love of the music and not just because they think it could be some profitable thing for them. Things are so unpredictable in terms of what might make money or not, so you should at least really love what you are releasing and be fully behind it. Then if it does not make money, you are still proud and happy that you did it.”

As far as what Lovitt looks for in its bands, Lowitt says he will release and support something if he really likes it, regardless of whether or not he thinks it will sell and make money. As long as the band is willing to be active through things like touring and do their part of the hard work that goes into a release, he is okay with a record not selling tons of copies. The label also refuses to work with contracts, opting instead to keep things “simple and flexible” and based on trust. Lowitt says he doesn’t want to force someone through a contract to work with his label if they are not into it anymore, but he also says a drawback to this can be an occasional lack of clarity between the band and the label, though he says such problems rarely come up.

So if Brian Lowitt could change two things about the current state of the independent music scene, what would they be? Well, one of them just might be the pricing scheme behind the music that gets released every week. “CDs cost way too much in the stores. Some on majors go for $18-$21 now. That is crazy. The stores are only marking that stuff up $1-$2 too, meaning the label is probably wholesaling those CDs for over $15 apiece. On our stuff, we sell it to the stores for half that price, but the stores end up doubling our price and selling our CDs for more than we would like them too. I do not get it sometimes. We try to make sure people know they can order it direct from us for pretty cheap. I think music should be affordable.”

And the other thing he would change might be the number of those releases that come out every week, as well as the endless number of bands and labels they come from. “There definitely are too many bands and labels out there. I am not sure if the problem is any worse than it was say five years ago though. I heard that something like 200 new releases come out a week. That is totally insane. It makes it hard for good little bands to get noticed with so much stuff out there.”

Interview with Clem Snide

Helping with the task of carrying the torch for smart songwriters everywhere is New York’s Clem Snide. They have three consistently well-received full lengths under their belts: You Were a Diamond (re-issued in 2002 by SpinArt), Your Favorite Music, and The Ghost of Fashion. With a new disc due this year, they’ve spent the past decade and more building a catalog that is a testament to their evolving skills and which has survived trends in music and business. In 2002 they made their way into American homes via “Moment in the Sun,” the song from The Ghost of Fashion that served as the theme song for NBC’s Ed. Lyrics veer between biting and endearing and songs can be packed with more pop culture references than an episode of The Family Guy. But it all works, and they’re only getting better. Frontman Eef Barzelay and I exchanged e-mails while they were at work finishing up their new disc.

Then read a review of The Ghost of Fashion here.

Delusions of Adequacy: It seems like Clem Snide had a fairly big year and a half. Any highlights from it?

Eef Barzelay: After we did the Craig Kilborn show, we ran through The Price is Right studio and got to spin the Showcase Showdown wheel. It was like stepping into a memory; I was a big fan as a kid…. Sweet simple lost moments of childhood …..”Come on Down!!!!!!”

DOA: Have things changed much at all for you since getting the band’s name out a little bit more? Have any aspects of doing music gotten easier? Has anything become more difficult or less fun?

EB: Its become an intolerable grind akin to being an assistant manager at a Paramus, New Jersey OfficeMax, but then again all the drugs, limos, and underage groupies do take the edge off somewhat.

DOA: Clem Snide spent most of October recording, right? How is the new album coming? Can you give any information on it? I read in an interview where you thought it might be a mostly acoustic album. Is that how it’s working out?

EB: There are some “mostly acoustic” moments, but overall it’s very sonic; great sounds. The production value is very good, very expensive sounding but not in a slick way. The songs are much sweeter and simpler. I always intended this record to be the yin to Ghost of Fashion’s yang, at least in the way it reflects on LOVE, which is really the only thing worth singing about.

DOA: How is it to be having You Were a Diamond re-released while you’re at work recording new material? I would imagine some bands would look back on their earlier work and sort of cringe, but all of your albums seem to make sense together; like you can see the growth between each one and each one stands on its own.

EB: You Were a Diamond still sounds OK to me, but it bums me out. I was very unhappy when I wrote those songs, and my singing on it sounds tentative to me now. In the end, though, every record is just the culmination of all the circumstances under which it was made, so….. it is what it is.

DOA: With such lyric-driven songs, do you tend to come up with a set of lyrics first and then try to set them to music or do they tend to develop together? Has that changed at all for you?

EB: It works both ways, and it hasn’t changed. (Not a very interesting answer, but the truth.)

DOA: One of my favorite aspects to what you write is that you seem to be really tuned into details and can create really great lines out of otherwise small actions or everyday events. There’s the great line from “Long Lost Twin”: “The highway is a ribbon that makes a gift of everything” or “So pay for the coffee and we’ll take it to go / And you hold the cup while I’m driving” from “We Can’t Stay Here Tonight.” I don’t know if I have a specific question here, but you seem to do this so much better than other writers who shoot for a similar style. You can craft lines that just cut straight to the heart and they just seem to come from out of nowhere. Is there anything you care to offer up about this aspect of your writing?

EB: Wow, you’re right! I am fuckin’ good. I don’t know if I can explain it …it’s all instinctive, but I do get behind every word and try to use it as effectively as I can, which is really not that important in a three-minute rock song, but I’m a geek that way.

DOA: While some writers would steer clear of them, you seem to have no fear about throwing pop culture references into your writing; yet very little of it sounds like it will ever feel dated. What influences your decision to include these in your writing?

EB: It’s a way to add a little sizzle or zaz to a song. It’s like putting a nude scene in a movie. I don’t know why white people make such a big fuss about it. Vibe magazine never called Biggie ironic or too clever when he dropped line like “I’m richie like Lionel,” or this hip-hop line I heard recently; ” crusin’ like Tom and Penelope.” That’s all I’m doing. It’s all just in good fun. But, incidentally, I am over it and will more than likely never have another pop culture reference in a song ever again.

DOA: Which current bands do you really admire? Any songwriters who you think are doing particularly interesting work?

EB: I like Ron Sexsmith and Will Oldham and Bill Callahan, and that Red House Painters guy is real good too.

DOA: That was you on the cover of Magnet’s issue on power-pop, right? What power-pop stuff do you really like?

EB: They just used me cause I had the right look. I do like Big Star a lot, but they didn’t care about that, just my perfect bone structure.

DOA: Has there been any backlash from Jewel fans over “Moment in the Sun?”

EB: I wish.

DOA: What are the plans for 2003?

EB: New record in the spring and then touring.

Interview with Chris Brokaw

Chris Brokaw is an amazingly versatile and productive musician. Perhaps best known for his work with Come and Codeine during the 1990s, he is now adding his guitar to no fewer than four projects; Consonant, the New Year, Pullman, and as a member of Evan Dando’s touring band. On top of this, he just released his first full-length solo project, Red Cities, a fine collection of diverse instrumentals. Far from a vanity project, it’s musically diverse, tasteful, and engaging throughout. He’s also at work on co-developing the music for Rinde Eckert’s “Highway Ulysses,” an experimental theatre project being put-on by Cambridge, MA’s American Repertory Theatre in February and March of 2003. For now, you can catch Chris on the road in America and Europe throughout November and December solo, as well as with the New Year and Consonant. For tour dates, current projects, discography, visit his website at the end of this interview.

Delusions of Adequacy: How did Red Cities come about?

Chris Brokaw: I started thinking up this album back in ’98. The whole thing kind of revolved around the song “The Fields (Part II)”; that was the centerpiece and everything else kind of spun off from there. I got an 8-track cassette recorder around then and started demo-ing the songs and thought, “Maybe I could do this by myself…” It seemed like a good challenge.

DOA: I read that you avoided recording with a computer as a way of limiting your options in the studio. Add to this the fact that you played all of the instruments yourself, and it must have been a pretty challenging undertaking. How did you approach the recording, and besides the obvious difference of not having a band around, how was this experience different from all of the work you’ve done in the past?

CB: I practiced and demo-ed and practiced and demo-ed for months. I knew exactly what I wanted to do and needed to do before I went in to record, although I wanted to leave room for accidents here and there. But I really wanted to have my shit together before I went in. It was really different from recording with a band. Really exhausting, terrifying, sometimes exhilarating. In the end, satisfying in a very unique way.

DOA: Is there a particular mindset you have for each project you’re involved with? How do you go from possibly touring with Evan Dando one week to maybe writing with Consonant another and working on your own material while keeping other projects or opportunities on a back burner? Do you take it one session or practice or show at a time? Does it all somehow fit into a bigger picture?

CB: It’s all juggling; a lot of e-mailing and strategizing. I mean, the A.R.T. job this winter comes at a perfect time – good to have a steady job at home in the winter months. But, therefore, I need to do a lot of Red Cities touring before the end of the year, so I have a lot of tours coming up in November and December … it’s all juggling, though. I mean, I like when there’s a lot of variety, but it’s not like I’m scheming to be insanely eclectic. It all seems of a piece.

DOA: What’s coming up into next year? Have you looked past the A.R.T. project or is that sort of the main focus for a while? I saw the New Year has some shows coming up and you have the solo tour. Any plans for a new Consonant album or solo album, or is that still a ways off?

CB: My plans for after the A.R.T. are pretty open. Consonant is hoping to record in January, and I think that would have a spring release. Evan Dando’s record also comes out then, and I’m expecting to probably tour with one or both of those concerns in the spring. I’ll also hope to tour more to support Red Cities. The New Year hopes to record in the spring.

DOA: As someone who was sort of right in the middle of all the bands coming up in the early and mid-90s, I’m really curious what bands you think got unjustly overlooked from that time? Also, what bands do you think will end up being the ones to be remembered in 20 years?

CB: 90s bands that got neglected? Well, there were several I can think of that really got neglected; Meltdown (from Central Square), Blue (from Philadelphia), Subskin Cables/Sensurround/Chocha (three bands all led by Fernando Avila, formerly from Boston, now in NYC), all totally amazing bands, pretty much totally ignored. There’s a guy in my Red Cities band named Milo Jones, who’s pretty unknown, who’s a fucking genius. As for who’s going to be remembered; remembered by who? Me? You? Greil Marcus? Your teenage cousin? I don’t know. I don’t know how to answer that. Sorry!

DOA: That answer wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but I think it was really good. It’s easy to forget how subjective things can be when it comes to musicians being recognized. One of the most striking things I felt when I saw Consonant live was the amount of control and experience that you all exude. How has performing live evolved for you over the years? Are you getting different things (benefits, drawbacks, highs or lows) out of playing music then you did five or even 10 years ago?

CB: Glad you’ve enjoyed the shows. It’s hard to say how the playing has changed over the years. At least in the context of playing in rock bands, it’s become very familiar and very comfortable to me. I feel like I know what I’m doing. Some times I feel like I sort of slip into a role, which can get boring, and so I’ve really enjoyed the challenge of playing solo which is completely different from playing with a band. Much scarier, much more of a challenge. I don’t know…it’s still different every night, thank god. It’s still really exciting to me. If anything, I try to take in the environment, that day and night, as much as I can, and try to apply it or have it inform the show that night.

DOA: What have been some recent highlights from the past year or so?

CB: Finishing and releasing my solo record. Putting together an eight-piece group to perform that music. Collaborating with the folks at the American Repertory Theater. Writing, performing, and recording with Evan Dando. Collaborating on a performance with the dancer, Alissa Cardone. Playing some shows with Consonant where we were really getting at things that none of us expected to.

DOA: What are you listening to nowadays and what do you recommend?

CB: Milo Jones – Daddy’s Girl, Thomas Brinkmann – Row, Phillip Jeck – Vinyl Coda 1-3,
Bennink/ Mengelberg – Miha, Alice In Chains – Live, Chris Smither – Don’t It Drag On,
Meditations – I Love Jah, Minsk – untitled 7″, Keith Rowe/ Oren Ambarchi – cd,
Luciano – Live at Weetamix, Arthur Jones – Scorpio, Steve Lacy – Follies, Steely Dan – various bootlegs

Interview with Tony Goddess

When I first moved to Boston in 1999, Papas Fritas was one of the bands that everyone here was talking about. I saw two really excellent shows from them, and they were one of the bands that helped get me into a world of music outside of what I’d been exposed to by Baltimore radio. They were the band that proved to me that smaller bands at the club level could make albums and play shows that are as good as any of the ones by the bigger bands I’d heard on WHFS. They put out three albums on Minty Fresh (1995′s Papas Fritas, 1997′s Helioself, and 2000′s Buildings and Grounds) toured Europe and America with The Flaming Lips, Blur, and the Cardigans, and put together a body of work that’s going to stand up on its own when people re-evaluate music from the second half of the 1990s. Although they’re on a long-term hiatus, their name keeps popping up. “Love Just Don’t Quit,” was released on Fenway Recording’s In Our Lifetime vol. 3: The Revenge of Boston compilation and Ivy’s new disc, Guestroom, includes a version of “Say Goodbye” (from Helioself) right in there with “Be My Baby.” Tony Goddess, the lead vocalist and songwriter, and I talked for about three hours over beers and Dwight Twilley records. Delusions of Adequacy: With all the work and touring you put into Papas Fritas, would you want to do it again?

Tony Goddess: Papas Fritas had enough songs in the end that it was pretty satisfying and there was something about it that was always kind of loose enough. But if I was in a touring band again … That’s the problem with pop songs; you can’t fuck with them too much when you play it live. Sure, you can fuck with the intro and drag it out or have a middle section, but, basically, when you hit the first verse you have to sing the four lines in the first verse and then you have to go to the chorus.

DOA: I could see how that could get old night after night after night, but it is sort of an art to be able to hit a groove every night.

TG: We always used to open with a song that would groove; a song of ours called “We’ve Got All Night” (from Helioself) [sings intro], and that felt really powerful to hit the stage with that or a song called “Wildlife” from our first record. We didn’t want to open with a really loud one or a slow one; you just wanted to open up with one with a groove everyone can fall into and the next one is sort of the song that opens the concert.

DOA: Did you ever get the feeling when you were playing that like the songs weren’t your’s anymore? A song becomes more than what you guys are at the time

TG: Well, whenever anybody sings your lyrics, it sort of feels like that. The first time we played in Spain was the first time I heard people singing our words. It was actually in a song called “Guys Don’t Lie” where it’s sort of “na na na” and they took it over from us. That was awesome.

DOA: Did you tour with other people to build that up or how did you get so big in Europe?

TG: The first time we toured Europe we toured with the Flaming Lips; that was Scotland, England, France, Germany. Spain we did on our own. In Spain we just got really good reviews right away. I think it was the name. Also, we were on the same label as Pavement and the Amps. We were on much bigger labels overseas than in the US.

DOA: When did you tour with the Flaming Lips?

TG: It was1996. They were promoting Clouds Taste Metallic. I just love them. I bought my first Flaming Lips album when I was like 12 or 13. I was totally into metal. Oh My God was the first one I got. That album blew my mind when it came out. There was a song on there that was like the Velvet Underground for me before I heard the Velvets. It changed my definition of music; at the time all there was were my dad’s records and speed metal and Motley Crue and stuff. I never really thought about writing your own songs.

DOA: Have you heard the Ivy version of “Say Goodbye?”

TG: It sounds like…of course, I love it. Really 80′s. Pet Shop Boys or Human League. What’s really nice, though, is that they kept our arrangement. All the little touches we had, like they maybe did it with more synthetic sounds but a lot of it sounds right off our record. It’s nice.

DOA:When I moved to Boston in ’99 right before Buildings and Grounds came out, you were bigger around town. It didn’t sound like so much of what was going on at the time so it seems like in 30 years people could listen to it unqualified. That’s the impression I got. It’s hard to tell in retrospect…I would assume Television was always big and the Modern Lovers were always influential but they weren’t and that’s a similar feeling I always get from you all.

TG: I think our second album is a little obvious about its stylistic influences, which makes it seem a little less fresh. It’s obvious that that’s a Motown song, etc…. “Just To See You” is a recording I’m really proud of.

DOA: Most bands that are big or popular only get two or three great songs. It seems to me that you all had at least two, maybe three great songs. But that’s rare, I think.

TG: I have a review pinned on my wall from our last show in Chicago and the guy said “Hey, Hey, You Say” ranks pretty high on his top ten list of bubble gum singles.

DOA: That seems to me like the most obvious one. Which one do you think?

TG: I guess that’s pretty fresh. I love all of it. There’s little things I’d change in the singing or production. Are there are any songs I hate…? I have tons of songs that are in varying degrees of completion. It takes me either a lot of willpower or a project. When Papas Fritas started, I was just trying to start writing songs. I wanted to write songs that had the rhythmic basis of the Modern Lovers. I was really into the Modern Lovers and the Stooges – songs that just have propulsive rhythms. I was just trying to be kind of melodic on top of that stuff. I had some music training so I guess I knew some cooler chords.

DOA:I read an interview where you said pop music has to speak a universal language. How conscious were you of trying to appeal to people?

TG: On the first album, we did exactly what we wanted to do. I just tried to do the best job I could. I wasn’t thinking about anything. I just knew I wanted to do the best job I could and make something I was proud of. Then it was when we had a lot of critical success it was like “Oh shit, now I can fuck it up, now I can make a mistake.”

DOA: You didn’t feel the opposite? Some people would feel that like, “Now that we have some success….If our last album sold 500,000 copies, we have to sell at least 750,000 copies this time or else, that’s it.” You didn’t feel like that?

TG: We didn’t have time for that; we just had to do it. We made the album kind of quick. We got off the road in Sept. and a friend of our’s came out to help us start basic tracking in Nov., Election Day, Nov. 4th. A lot of those songs were kicking around but not finished, not completely structured.

DOA: And you went into the studio like that?

TG: That was a lot of the fun part of it. What if we try it like this, what if we try it on these instruments? And I did demos. Like that song, [singing] “…The words you say, do you remember me?” We tried playing that for a long time and couldn’t figure out how to make it feel natural, because it’s in 9. I kind of figured out a way to put that extra drum roll in there that broke it up in way that it felt like it was a natural middle point. It didn’t feel like it was this oblong shape that 9 can feel like. That’s the kind of stuff I’m so proud of. It sounds like it’s a nursery rhyme, but it’s got 9/8, 6/8, and key changes. On Helioself, I remember really trying to think…I like the Kinks a lot, I like the Band…writing songs that sound like they’re part of a tradition.

DOA: Like you’ve heard them a million times the first time you heard them.

TG:”Hey, Hey You Say” is so simple that it’s like that. That song “Live By the Water” could be like that and “Words to Sing,” it felt like this nursery rhyme. There’s a lot of different variables that play into this level of familiarity. There’s melody and there’s also production. The rhythm of the melody kind of sets up what genre it is. Like calypso has a certain lilt to the melody versus what AC/ DC has…if you want to call it lilt.

The third album I think…we didn’t even know we were going to make an album. We broke up before making that album. But I’m glad it kind of went like that because we came up with something that was more us. I felt like the first album was kind of making a little bit of a statement. We were expected to be another indie band; everything was lo-fi at the time and random references and cryptic artwork. I just wanted a picture of us, self-titled, and you aren’t going to read a single thing in the liner notes that just doesn’t tell you some truth about the recording. I love Pavement, but after Pavement, so much bullshit got accepted.

DOA: I read a quote from you about how people learn how not to expect anything good anymore, and when they finally do get something good they just beat it to death and it’s never as good as they think it’ll be. But there was a time, when you guys were out, that the best bands were getting out. Like Nirvana was popular and Pavement was popular. Good bands were on the radio. So what happened?

TG: Well, I don’t know. Curt killed himself. The whole punk-pop thing happened.

DOA: Everything seems so marketed; we all seem so conscious of it. At the time, Nirvana didn’t seem marketed.

TG: I met a guy from Entertainment Weekly, I don’t know what he was saying, but we were talking and I said, “I feel like people are so much more interested in how much money the movie made.” And he just seemed to smile proudly and say, “Yup, we killed the golden goose.” I read an article that said people nowadays think beauty means quality, that beauty means depth. Beauty means more than just…you know what I mean? It just seems like in our society …nice guys don’t get paid. So, the only measure you have nowadays is “are you paid or are you not?” Because if you’re not…I think it has to do with…I think we’re totally over-saturated. I was thinking about this the other day because I met Nate from the Mighty Mighty Bosstones. When I moved to Boston I thought they were cool and the reason I thought they were cool was because I had heard about them through my limited means, because I read Thrasher magazine and some other underground magazines. Just because they been written about in my kind of limited scope of information. Information just didn’t come that easy. I had to search out bands, I had to ask people’s opinions. I basically had to go to Philly or DC to buy records, so if something had gotten to me through one of my cool channels then it meant something. Whereas now…tastemakers have to come out some way again.

DOA: I’m coming to think that maybe there is good music and bad music, that maybe it’s not all relative. But another thing is that it could have all just been marketed right. But does it matter, because if the good bands get out there and get noticed…

TG: That’s the interesting thing; with time the good stuff will rise to the top. Like bands that just stick around. I almost wanted Papas Fritas to just keep going somehow; like if we could just stay together and stick it out, like the Butthole Surfers or the Meat Puppets.

DOA: Are you going to keep going with Papas Fritas?

TG: I don’t think we’ll ever be able to put as much energy into it as a group like we did. There’s no reason to call it quits. It might just be five years before another album comes out. Papas Fritas was able to satisfy most of my needs for a long time. When we played what might be our last shows, I really was happy with it. I really was happy with what we did. I felt like we were a real band, like we were a band that didn’t have an image. I mean, we had an image because you eventually saw our faces. But if you were a fan of the band, you were just a fan of us. The production was Papas Fritas; the songs were written by Papas Fritas. When we played live we didn’t use any sequencers and we didn’t try to be this larger-than-life thing. We didn’t want to be larger than life, we just wanted to be life itself; does that make any sense? And so many of my favorite bands are not larger than life. I like music that’s larger than life; I like Urge Overkill. But I mean, like the Replacements, NRBQ, a lot of soul music. Well, that’s almost what soul music is, just telling it like it is. Sometimes we were really good, sometimes we were totally sloppy. But we didn’t have to live up to anything, because we just were going to be ourselves. But I always felt like to be a successful band you have to be larger than life. Like REM didn’t want to be larger than life but they wound up being larger then life. I don’t know what a term for it would be. It’s not just image; it’s the way you’re represented, the way you interact with the crowd. I was really happy with how Papas Fritas turned out so if I formed another band, part of me would just do what Papas Fritas did; just nonchalant. But part of me thinks I should just do projects; like this band does this…

DOA: How good are you at judging yourself?

TG: Not very good. I tend to think my voice really sucks. I met a guy who told me that, “You made a few albums that people really love. Your voice is fine.” I don’t know…

DOA: Do you think there are more bands nowadays?

TG: Yeah. When Papas Fritas first started, it was totally about saying, “Look, anyone can do this.” I remember once we played this show on campus, and I was like, “Come up and sing this.” And this girl came up, and then another person came up and I just walked off stage and smoked a cigarette outside while they played our song and that was awesome. With the idea that are there more bands, there were, but there weren’t many cool bands. It was very obvious who was into anything underground and who wasn’t. No bands were playing original music. It was all post-REM bands. You just knew who listened to Ween or who listened to Sonic Youth. Now, like, bands…..I mean Incubus has a little bit of Sonic Youth in it. It’s good that a lot of good music and a lot of good influences got out there, but it’s kind of blanded everything out

Jucifer – If Thine Enemy Hunger

I have to start this review with an apology. Not just to our readership, but also to Jucifer and Relapse Records. I received this album way back in October 2006, and I would have to assume that the above mentioned people were hoping to have it reviewed before the street date, or somewhere close to it. However, due to circumstances beyond my control (like getting carjacked at gunpoint and losing everything I had in my car), I was not able to make that happen. I was remiss in replacing my copy of this new album until recently and therefore have not gotten around to this review; until now. That being cleared up for everyone, I now present you with the review of Jucifer’s new album If Thine Enemy Hunger:

After Jucifer’s last release, War Bird, I wondered what they could possibly bring to the table. I mean, Jucifer always sounds like Jucifer. Unmistakably. Unapologetically. Heavy and crushing at times, melodic and subdued at others. A sonic behemoth travelling this great land’s breadth searching for the blood of non-believers; the carnage continues with If Thine Enemy Hunger.

The fifteen songs on this album are all winners, to be sure; though some tunes transcend the rest of this release. Whether in tone and composition, or for lyrical content; a few rare gems stand out from the rest of the incredible pieces on Jucifer’s newest from Relapse Records.

If Thine Enemy Hunger opens with Amber Valentine’s haunting and breathy vocals over top of a minimalist chord progression before Edgar joins in on the skins on “She Tides the Deep”, an ode to the search for a counterpart, no matter the trials and tribulations that threaten to destroy one in the course of that search. This song does not change in tempo, but this is no detriment to the compostition. In fact, the sludgy tones add an incredible depth to the feel of the song. It is a droning ballad of sorts, after all. A bit further down the road you’ll find “Lucky Ones Burn”, a slightly more up-tempo ditty that nevertheless leaves you feeling like you’ve just been crushed under the wheels of a giant tractor, although you can still see the sun. “Antietam”. Where else are you going to find a heavy act like this who can write a song from the perspective of a teenaged Civil War nurse? Nowhere. Frantic and panicked, the subject of this song lashes out in despair at anyone within earshot of the field hospital, lamenting the impossible task of saving these men who gave it all for the sake of their country. Strangely relevant in these trying times…

Track nine, “Backslider” is another favorite of mine from this album. Another more up-tempo track, and not as sludgy as other tunes, this is one of those tracks that just hit me lyrically. Observe: I can’t touch what I desire/and I can’t reach to get up higher/and I can’t be the way I’ve been/but everyday I slip again. Next up is “Luchamos”, a song that Amber sings completely in Spanish. The cadence of the lyrics fits so well with Edgar’s beats and Amber’s guitar; it is just an incredible tune. Filled with imagery of the struggle of the poor and downtrodden, the language works perfectly with the subject matter. To round out my personal picks from this album would be “In A Family Way”; another one that stands out to me from a lyrical standpoint rather than for the instrumentation on the song: I bring the mattress/from the room where they slept/I watch your fire rise/can I learn to forget/will I learn to forget/can I ever forget. Stark and haunting.

It is often easy to forget that you are hearing a two-piece act when listening to Jucifer, especially when they bring the heavy hammer down. I would have to say that this duo is still near the top of a very short list of two-pieces that really know how to craft a thick, heavy, unforgiving sound whilst being able to retain the ability to tread into more melodic and delicate songwriting when circumstance calls for it. All in all, a great effort from the Georgia by way of the rest of the continent duo, Jucifer. Oh, and if you have the means,
do not hesitate to check these kind, cool folks out live. They have a
stage presence like no others…

The Snake Trap – At Home in a Hostile World

The Snake Trap tried to impress me with a nudge and a wink, pointing to the fact that their live debut was at a Fender Guitars corporate shindig. The more I think about it, the more preposterous this idea becomes: I suppose Fender Guitars might have slightly more radical executives than, say, Johnson & Johnson, but still, imagining “Four Sores and Seven Beers Ago” among the water pitchers and mahogany paneling produces involuntary shudders. There has to be some nepotism at work here. The band even secured a slot at the Tempe Music Festival the very next day! News travels fast in that part of the country, I suppose. But how many bands play a festival without any performance history?

To compound my confusion, At Home in a Hostile World is as mindlessly banal as its title suggests— it is all, in a word, transparent braggadocio (can you not imagine a professional wrestler boasting that he’s “at home in a hostile world”?). Unfortunately, it’s also worrisome. I can’t shake the impression that The Snake Trap’s formation is an indication that instrumental music has reached the same nadir that the characters of SLC Punk lamented— this album wouldn’t be nearly as awful with some shitty nu-rock vocals in the mix, but, as instrumental music is now a viable approach for grease-stained, ham-fisted rock, laziness has excised that option.

The odd thing is, At Home in a Hostile World sounds a lot like an old Drive Like Jehu record for which Rick Froberg never got around to recording the vocals. Why, oh, why leave out such a critical component? Like ordinary 90’s math-rock, the record sets out to pulverize its 48 minutes, with no ritardando, diminuendo, crescendo, no tempo changes. All of which would, if placed within the proper context, be perfectly acceptable, if not thoroughly enjoyable. But, as it stands, one would be better entertained watching a 14-year-old brother’s band practice— At Home in a Hostile World is that tedious. Here’s my advice to the Snake Trap: acquire a decent vocalist post-haste, and never, ever use Explosions in the Sky in a self-referencing sentence again. Otherwise, thy sins are not cardinal; good taste is but a simple matter to exercise.

Charlie Deets – The Lost Larrikin Long Play

So apparently, I’ve got quite a thing for white guys who play guitars but then decide to fiddle with knobs and make some electronic music on the side. It all started when I got wind of some ‘dub/electro’ demos put together by LandSpeedRecord’s Charley Jamison a few years ago. Like a lot of other suckers, I’ve also found myself somehow ensnared in the musical web of Thom Yorke over the past few years. Unfortunately, it somehow took me until early 2007 to unconsciously trip over the solo genius of Charlie Deets (axe-slinger for noise-poppers Sally).

The Lost Larrikin Long Play is, in all honesty, a great house party contained within a CD. The first three minutes of the disc belong to the ridiculously filthy deep-bass throb of “Adults Pretend to Be Doing Stuff,” transitioning nicely into light keyboard flourishes and more danceable fare with “Okidata The Party Started.” “A Bit of Bitrex” is a marvelous bit of head-bobbing synth-pop that swings a full 180 from the previous track.

By this point, it’s obvious that this record is a jigsaw puzzle of danceable electronic goodness. A crazy breakbeat instrumental like “Xtina Powers Would Like to Sleep With You” somehow neatly flows into the deep, deliberate groove of “Necrotising Archnidism” like warm butter spreads smoothly over bread. “Broken Clavicle” rotates on a few swirling keyboard notes and a staggering, grainy synth roll; the effect goes beyond ambient when an understated chorus swells through and gives the track a bit of lazy thump.

Some tracks are made stronger by the environment around them. After a few songs of slightly more standard material, the simple rhythm and stark synths on “Yes, I Built It” make it sound like the greatest dance anthem not yet released on darkened basement clubs. When Deets’ echoing voice calls out, “I know what I want / But I don’t know why,” I shudder thinking about how huge this stuff should be amongst today’s musically misguided, angst-filled youth. Oh yeah, just a note: “Megalomania and Burnt Soy Milk” really should go down as one of the greatest song titles ever. The album closes with a dirty two-minute electro-punk rage in “Disgusting Savage (Theme From The Lost Larrikin Long Play)” that somehow works in the context of putting the disc on repeat and flowing back to the bass sounds opening the album.

This record goes down as my most unappreciated release of 2006. Had I been aware of its existence in time, The Lost Larrikin Long Play would’ve easily made my Top Ten list for the year without a second thought. “Adults Pretend to Be Doing Stuff” is the ultimate mixtape fodder, and the rest of the album follows suit tremendously. The best part? Later on in 2006, Deets dropped a similarly good remix album, To Orchestrate a Murder, that adds some grit and fuzz to the proceedings to good effect. ‘Solo projects’ rarely get better than this, indeed.

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