Grant Lee Phillips – Strangelet

The relative commercial/critical failure of Grant Lee Buffalo has seemingly had a twofold effect on the subsequent solo career of frontman Grant-Lee Phillips. On the one hand, it’s allowed him the freedom to explore his most endearingly esoteric and fashion-less desires, on another it’s lead him to wallow in his most indulgent impulses. In respect to the latter, 2000’s Ladies’ Love Oracle fell victim to unplugged bedroom songwriter clichés and 2001’s Mobilize slumped into portentous electronically-embellished art-pop. In keeping with the former though, 2004’s Virginia Creeper swam in balmy folk-country waters and 2006’s effortlessly enjoyable Nineteeneighties reinterpreted ’80s indie-classics for the new Americana generation. Throughout it all, GLP has proved himself to be prone to bouts of near-brilliance – despite of himself. Somewhat handily, this is a shorthand summary that almost neatly describes his latest long-player, the clumsily-titled and stubbornly contrary Strangelet.

In essence, Strangelet is very much the product of a mixed musical personality stand-off. For its Dr Jekyll side, we happily find GLP serving-up more of the succulent warm pleasures of Virginia Creeper and Nineteeneighties. Thus, the yearning “Soft Asylum (No Way Out)” and “So Much” are the kind of strummy folk-rock treasures that would have sat well with the better moments of Buffalo Tom’s overlooked Big Red Letter Day. More surprisingly, GLP also revisits the glammy Brit-rock of his former band’s Bowie/T-Rex-like contribution to 1998’s Velvet Goldmine soundtrack, with the jaunty Bolanesque acoustic shimmy of “Hidden Hand” and the slightly less effective glittery-stomp of “Raise The Spirit” – two sidesteps that would have fallen flat if it weren’t for the affectionate self-deprecation imbued within. Absolutely no reservations can be held-up against the dreamy “Fountain of Youth”, a track worthy of nearly all the album’s admission price. A rueful yet optimistic mandolin-drenched ballad strangely – but positively – reminiscent of Soul Asylum’s “Runaway Train” or the more blissful elements of R.E.M.’s Out of Time, “Fountain of Youth” is up there with other solo GLP triumphs like “Lily-A-Passion” or his transcendental take on New Order’s “Age of Consent”.

For the more Mr. Hyde-like segments, we find GLP becoming slightly unglued by his own lack of focus and self-restraint. Which translates into a few flaccid accidents, like the overwrought strings and guitar-solo squealing of the ponderous “Chain Lightening”, the similarly lumpy and banal “Johnny Guitar” and the forced-gloominess of “Killing A Dead Man”. But being the consummate charmer and survivalist that he is, GLP always has a few trump cards to keep himself in the game, and the plaintive barroom paean “Return To Love” certainly fits the get-out-of-jail criteria with winsome aplomb.

All in all, Strangelet may not be Grant-Lee Phillips’ most stirring collection of songs, but it’s certainly no catastrophe. Fans will forgive its flaws for the frequent flashes of loveliness mixed with good humour and newcomers should at least gain some sound navigational knowledge for exploring GLP’s consistently interesting body of work.

Little Brazil – Tighten the Noose

There’s a worrisome strain of over-earnestness in Little Brazil’s music that the band wrestles with throughout Tighten the Noose, besting it and being bested, often within the same song. Their roots in Omaha and familiarity with the likes of Cursive and Bright Eyes will give you a handy mental shortcut when imagining their music and lyrics. There’s shrill emoting and plenty of claustrophobically self-obsessed lyrics, music forever evoking some kind of resounding Christian ecstasy, words forever churning over personal shortcomings, some possibly invented. But Little Brazil’s emo waxes and wanes unpredictably. When its considerable passion is in service of a good idea, it sounds great; when the band slackens in imagination, it sounds like a modern (though much cooler, to be fair) Terry Jacks.

With respect to Mr. Jacks, he has somewhat atoned for his infamous 70’s weeper “Seasons in the Sun” by helping to protect British Columbia’s waterways from whomever it is that threatens them. In a similar spirit, Little Brazil atones for its weak opening verses in “Good Day Goodbye” by suddenly blowing up in a fiery little middle-eight and achieving actual gravitas in Landon Hedges’ impassioned cry of “One of these days you’ll find out/what it means to lose everything.” His vocals aren’t always so riveting, but the band – even though it all sounds entirely familiar – rarely strays far from your attention before refocusing on another redeeming riff and rescuing a faltering tune.

Halfway through the five-minute-plus “Stretching Skin,” I’m suddenly less reminded of the dour Rainer Maria and their ilk and more of Superchunk. The crippling self-absorption takes a momentary backseat to explosive fun and Little Brazil once again rights a listing ship. Fighting this battle between rote emo and inspired indie-pop might get wearying if the band didn’t throw in a couple of uncontestable winners into the mix as well.

“Last Night” is the strongest song on Tighten the Noose, still awash in self-pitying lyrics like “I’m never gonna have the life I want/and I’m always gonna feel like I’ve wasted this one,” but much more direct then some of the meandering material found elsewhere. And whereas that song shows Little Brazil at their poppiest and most jubilant, “A Thrilling Entrance” channels some of the powerful heartbreak of Low or Idaho into rippling, elegiac chords and wailing feedback. These tunes (along with the darling “Shades”) the band rightly groups at the very beginning of Tighten the Noose, and it’s a positive omen for the future that they recognize the superiority of these songs.

Yes, we had joy, we had fun, we had at least half a wonderful record when we were done, though this disc – like the genre – gets caught up in petty drama. If Little Brazil can shake that tendency off the way they do in the best songs and moments on Tighten the Noose, they’ll have moved completely from beneath the dreary clouds of callow angst and into their own season in the sun.

Bloody & the Transfusions – Bloody & the Transfusions

It can be difficult to find unadulterated punk rock these days with the eminence of catchy pop-punk bands like Fall Out Boy, but Bloody & The Transfusions manages to capture the spirit of bands like The Dead Kennedys and the Cramps. Punk rock veteran Bloody Mess is back with this new band, on tour now promoting this loud, fast, and brash album.

These Midwestern guys out of Peoria, Illinois, know how to make exciting and entertaining music with noisy drums, the gruff wail of Bloody Mess, and great guitar solos. Bloody Mess has quite a history, playing with numerous bands and even performing with the legendary GG Allin.

Bloody sings about hangovers, wild shows, corporate radio, and Alice Cooper, with strong backing by bassist Lincoln Log. In “FMFU”, Bloody does his best impersonation of a radio DJ, addressing the poor quality of the music and the huge number of commercials that are played. “(still) Hungover & Stoned” is a 5-minute 26-second ode to long nights of drinking, while “Creepi Coola” is about Bloody’s favorite rock star; change up the letters in the song’s title and it is pretty obvious to whom Bloody is referring.

“Wake Up” is a 10-96 cover, and “The Asshole Song” is just what the title sounds like, and a really humorous song at that. The lyrics are a in some songs very funny, if a bit juvenile; its just what to expect from energetic, fevered punk. The band switches up genres to a lilting country western in “Minds Blown In San Antone”, and this is a nice change of pace. After a few listens, the album got a bit repetitive, but for lighthearted and lively punk, Bloody & The Transfusions succeed on this offbeat and amusing album.

The Siderunners – Cook County Blue

Situated in the middle of the prairie, it’s no surprise that Chicago spits out the occasional alt-country group. One such group is the Siderunners, a four-piece of predictable combination. Featuring two guitarists – Sappy, the vocalist, and Nate Van Allen, backup vocalist – standup bassist Todd Hill and Andy Abrisz the drummer, the Siderunners bring together a variety of influences; on record, Hank Williams Sr and Jason and the Scorchers stand out, but live they take a page out of Slayer’s book and rock with a decidedly crossover metal influence. Sappy admits to being a huge Descendants fan – pioneer pop/punk emo outfit – which fits with the bleeding heart sympathies of country well.

Andy Abrisz, the drummer, used to play solo, doing vocals while he roughed the hide in folk clubs. During one fateful night, Nate Van Allen, veteran of the Tossers, broke up with his girlfriend and, razed drunk, watched Abrisz’s show with the rest of the then drummerless Siderunners. After the show Abrisz joined up over a beer and the rest is history.

Besides laying down smooth country/swing, the Siderunners put on a debacle of a show: sometimes mellow others grinding. Either style fits Sappy’s lamenting voice well. His Appalachian howls sound soulful over violin and Iggy Pop-ish with their distorted rampage. Energy wise their CD’s are a bit lacking; given their soon to be indefinite hiatus, Chicagoans and debutantes alike might not get the opportunity to see them vindicate it live.

Lesbian – Power Hör

The name of the band is Lesbian. Yeah, you got it. Lesbian. The band describes their choice of monikers thusly: “…equally-cool names like Black Sabbath, Venom and Pentagram were already taken. But also, the name Lesbian evokes pure, sexually-charged freedom – and, that’s what rock music is all about.”

That being said, let us move on to what is really important about this band – their music. Or should I say, their epic journey across a sonic landscape that transcends the boundaries of what metal has been thought of until recently. Most offerings from Lesbian’s contemporaries cannot compare to the sweeping arrangements, intricate rhythm patterns and incomparable changes in mood and style throughout the album. Lesbian is more complex and intriguing than anything its members have done to date (Golgothan Sunrise, The Abodox, etc.) and it more than shows on their debut album Power Hör.

This album, though divided into four “songs”, would seem more of a total package than a collection of individual tracks; nearly a concept piece, if you will. Though each track can stand on its own, I can’t stress enough that this album needs to be taken in its entirety to be fully appreciated. The minimal vocals on the album are more of an accent to the instrumentation than a main focus, which adds a unique feel to the sections they pop up in. The transitions throughout Power Hör are astounding and inspiring, evoking well defined mood changes through stylistic translation and dynamic flux within the structure of the songs. This is exactly the kind of wake up call that psychedelic metal needs in this country! This is Lesbian.

As far as debut albums are concerned, Power Hör is among the finest I have heard in a long, long time. These four visionaries have brought to the table a heaping helping of seriously heavy music, and I don’t think anyone who eats from the table of Lesbian will go away hungry. This band is a force to be reckoned with, and reckon you shall!

Clouds – Legendary Demo

On Legendary Demo Adam McGrath and friends salute their rock n’ roll roots with 7 original jams of garage band perfection. The band sweats buckets of dense Southern riffs and spits out a few punk standards. This working man’s band is Clouds, a collection of modern indie rock and core vets. The guys cover a lot of ground on this “demo”, from soul-punching low-end Zeppelin bends, to Sabbath-esque muted riffing, to Stooges-inspired punk lust, all generously buttered up with burning leads and a variety of vocal styles.

In true side-project style, these guys are cutting loose, expelling their classic rock and punk demons under the leadership of McGrath and Jim Carroll. Legendary Demo is a fireball of straight ahead rock, perfect for the car or a crowded house party. It’s fun with lots of balls and just enough anger to make things interesting.

Brief slow jams and episodes of psychadelia accentuate the heavy riffs and give you room to breathe. This kind of disc can be common ground where snotty scenesters can bond with their 30 year-old brother-in-law – theoretically. Tracks “New Amnesia”, “Pressure”, “Party Grunge”, “Mountain Jim”, “Guardian’s Eye’s” and “Magic Hater” are primarily Southern riffing showcases, but there’s a lot to every song. “Live It for Now” is the only song that is primarily punk. The eighth and closing track, “Quartulli Dub” is a 20 minute reggae-psych jam that will be interesting to some, disc filler to most. But the first half of the disc is solid rock n’ roll.

Legendary Demo’s shelf life is hard to predict. But damn, it feels pretty good right now. If your music collection is anchored by the best of Sabbath, Zeppelin and the like, then there’s a place for Clouds.

Various Artists – Black Eyes and Broken Bones: Hardcore Volume #1

Black Eyes and Broken Bones covers a wide range of Canadian hardcore over 31 tracks. For hardcore listeners (and related genres), there is something everyone can get into. There are some definite duds here with crappy recordings or just plain generic offerings, but also some worthy ambassadors from up North that I am happy to hear.

Comeback Kid has “Partners in Crime” on here, a goodie, but obviously nothing remotely new to my ears. The song is one of the catchier tracks off Wake the Dead, which sparked the beginning of them receiving mass appeal.

Another already known act appears on here, that’s Cancer Bats. They play bar-brawl inducing hardcore. You know, think along the lines of what Every Time I Die popularized.

Confine opens this smorgasbord with “Paper Tigers.” The bio talks about their existence (1996-2000) and as being one of the legendary Canadian hardcore bands. I can back that. This sounds like old The Hope Conspiracy, a violent debacle between heavy and melodic.

To the Lions grabbed my attention because members of Grade, Boys Night Out, and Confine make the ranks. An odd combination, right? This sounds most like Confine though, as “Ride the Apocalypse” pulls off brutal hardcore but stays out of boring tough guy land. I’d be curious to see what this band is up to now (this song’s from 2005) because this has serious potential. The vocals intensify up to a juicy breakdown at the end which makes me wish this comp came with a weight bench.

Cursed isn’t exactly unknown anymore, I’ve seen them in Syracuse once, but besides that I’ve never listened to them recorded. “Clocked In, Punched Out” has common elements of bands such as Breather Resist and No Idols. Grating rhythms and split-second blasts of treble find a pouring frontman to match the mess.

I saw Final Word play The Promise’s last show, and haven’t heard from them since. Honestly, I remember their funny between song speeches more than the actual set itself. Their track “Shut You Out” is a solid showing of the No Warning style of hardcore – pissed off and letting you know why.

A knack for using harmonics, defiant yelling, and twisting guitars applied to hardcore – it’s all pleasantly familiar. Snapcase fans are guaranteed to like I Refuse’s “Suffer and Smile.”

Deadsure sounds like early (rougher) Grade, and has a tight grip on post-hardcore songwriting.

Fucked Up is another band on the rise, and with that comes more listeners. What better to do with that privilege than call out a shitty band, which is exactly the point of “The Line.” It’s a diss to Billy Talent with priceless spoken parts of pure resentment. “People that like you…they can eat my shit.” Best message on this comp, hands down.

There’s some ground I purposely left out because it didn’t leave me too excited. That basically means the metalcore or tough guy portions. Variety cancels out the forgettable songs, and unlike most comps, this one isn’t destined for the garbage.

Novi Split – Pink in the Sink

For all intents and purposes, Novi Split is the music of David Jerkovich “with a little help from friends D. Ahearn, Jens Fleming, Jeff ‘fish hand’ Rolfredo, Michael Rozon, and Nathaniel Carroll,” as stated in the liner notes of his new album Pink in the Sink. Thus, Jerkovich joins the ranks of Cat Power (Chan Marshall) and Nine Inch Nails (Trent Reznor) in distancing his ego to focus on the music, while creating a deeply personal album uncomplicated by the competing egos that may arise in a band.

I began listening to Pink in the Sink under the assumption that it was a band effort, and with the numerous instruments mixed flawlessly it would not have been an unrealistic assumption. The album’s intimate lyrics, which are centered around lessons learned, relationships realized and unrealized, and a struggle with concepts of youth and age, feels more like a friend telling you stories in your kitchen than a group of friends yelling competing tales in a crowded bar, so I turned to the liner notes and the internet to confirm that Jerkovich is creating his experience to share with listeners.

Pink in the Sink is Novi Split’s second album following his debut album Keep Moving, and if he had any sophomore jitters you would never be able to tell by the solidly constructed music and lyrics found in every song. Jerkovich’s voice is very similar to Conor Oberst from Bright Eyes, without the definitive Oberst lisp; however, both artists sing as if they are acting in a play by matching the appropriate tones to the meaning or spirit of the lyrics. Jerkovich uses his voice as an additional instrument in the songs, which gives a great depth to the music. Sometimes, he blends his voice a little too well into the songs and it gets lost in the tide of music that is pouring fourth. With singing talent such as Jerkovich’s, there were moments in the album that I wished his voice would stand center stage and let the music be in the background a little more; however, it is evident that Jerkovich is equally proud of the vocals and music; as he should be. Pink in the Sink is a refreshing return to music played on instruments and natural singing talent, which is very different from the overproduced pop albums trying very hard to make the voices of spoiled heiresses sound marketable.

The music on Novi Split’s latest album is classic alternative with folk influences, like REM jamming out with Tracy Chapman. The melody on all of the album’s songs is perfect, and is produced by a creative use of heavy violin, guitar, and piano. Listeners will defiantly notice the original way Jerkovich uses percussion to slightly break in and out of the songs to add depth and shake-up the previously established mood; however, unlike others who use this technique, Jerkovich is never heavy-handed. The best example of this comes on the song “Open”, where the drum and cymbals lightly tap behind the guitar until the end of the song where they emerge with the snare to bring the song to a crescendo and elevate the feeling of reconciling with the past that the song establishes earlier. An overzealous musician would really pound on the drums and cymbals to drive the point home; however, Jerkovich gives his listeners more credit by raising the percussion to elevate the song without completely breaking its coherency.

Pink in the Sink is sure to gain Novi Split many listeners. I would certainly recommend this album to fans of Bright Eyes, Brett Dennen, and Tracy Chapman. The upbeat music of you got served opens the album nicely, and is then followed shortly after by the lullaby like “California Skies” on track three. Jerkovich breaks the flow of the album on track four with a melancholy remake of Beyonce’s “Crazy in Love”. Jerkovich’s slower version, with longing in his voice, offers a new take on the lyrics of “Crazy in Love”; however, I found myself missing the energy and over-the-top quality of the original. The hook and beat in “Doctor” make it one of the catchiest songs on the album. It is laced with a Moby like hook of background vocals saying “It’ll be alright,” while Jerkovich sings. Leaving it is also a notable song on the album with Jerkovich’s charming boy-like tone of voice singing about growing apart from a romantic partner after the contagiousness of “wanting to still feel amazed.” Listeners of Novi Split will undoubtedly have the opposite reaction then the sentiment in leaving it, by wanting to continue their relationship with David Jerkovich after experiencing Pink in the Sink, and being thankful for the amazing opportunity to listen to a good friend sit down and tell some stories.

Black Tie Review – Chicago – Memories, Illinois – 2007-03-23

The EL (Elevated Lines) doesn’t allow smoking and I’m not partial to unscheduled stops, but nobody gets what they want nowadays. I’m Jenna Thompson and I’m not holdin’ back.

Walking down Montrose Avenue towards some no name bar – Memories as I recall – I realize this might not be the best locale for a young black Irish woman – as in black hair white skin you ignorant fucks – such as myself to be stomping about in the dark. Then again I’m on the Northside of Chicago, an upscale area known for its relative safety; the only peril I face is flagrantly bad driving – no turn on red when pedestrians are present still means something right?

Anyway, tonight I’m seeing Long Shot, the street punk outfit I reviewed for my weekly mp3 hit; they had that little ditty “March on Through.” I arrive at Memories around the suggested time of 8 O’clock, but to my chagrin, neither Fred Hebal – lead guitarist – nor Long Shot is present. Granted they go on at nine, but I’m underage and this place is downright dingy: no carpeting, cement floor leading up to the foot and a half elevated stage and some drunk clamoring on about who knows what from a dilapidated stool along an equally fucked bar. With a bit of pomp, I walk in and take a seat up by the stage while two guys place bets on their pool game.

Half an hour of doodles and drools later Fred and the boys march in with their chins up. After dragging some of their gear in, despite Fred’s chivalrous protests, I slide back into my seat while its former occupant – the drummer’s girlfriend – shares a cig with her significant other. While I ink in a few O’s and P’s, a skinny roadie – a fucking roadie? Long Shot has a fucking roadie? – clothed in a plain white t distracts the black clad percussionist as they put up a filmy Long Shot flag: white lettering lined with white stars on black – not bad, not bad.

After a few noodlings, the boys gather on the minuscule stage. Just a four-piece, the boys seem like teenage giants tripping over magnified amps and superfluous cordage as an MC leans forward, pulling the microphone in, shouting out:

“Long Shot! Long Shot! Long Shot! It’s motherfucking Looooooooooong Shot!”

Maybe in a larger crowd, but the crowd is sparse: a couple thirty year old bikers, regulars seemingly unaffected by the riotous call and a few kids hanging ’round the recently vacated pool table. Unfazed, the loyal constituents pour to the stage forming an iron wall leveling off just below lead vocalist and guitarist Dan’s face as he leads Long Shot in a brief rendition of “The Boys Are Back In Town” before they dive into the raucous pits of street punk hell. Opening with a new song off their soon to debut LP, the Long Shot makes the MC5 proud as they send a static barrage of crunch distortion raging through the crowd. Next comes the Long Shot anthem, a swerving sing-a-long known as “The Boys” – notice a trend. Rambling verses melt into shredded choruses, the first of which led Dan and Fred to go back on back, a tasteful rendition of classic rocks most overdone pose. Without much room to move Fred stutters back and forth while the other band members struggle to hold their places despite the rambunctious atmosphere set off by the man in black.

After “The Boys” Dan takes a five second pause to mumble the next song title into the mic. They’re like workhorses these guys, really. Young bucks ready to turn coat on their street punk origins for an experiment in Psychedelic Stooges-esque sludge rock; not to say the Oi isn’t there, but it’s a far cry from the Cockney Rejects or other such lovable bullocks, a modified Stooges song I swear: thundering chords, the shouted lyrics, the minimal riffs, utterly fucking magical! Once finished with the city touting malarkey of “Chicago”, the boys go for the ingots with a caustic cover of Skinhead by The Dropkick Murphys. Dan hammers out the verses with hawkish intensity; Fred spins a blistering melody over bassist Ilja’s sturdy plucking, leaving drummer John to pick up scraps during infrequent blank space. Ending with “March on Through” – my personal favorite – Fred took a step forward to mimic the bagpipe influence of Real McKenzies with the opening riff; notes spiked as a legion of snare thwacks sauced up the beat. The older crowd, eyes sagging from a hard workday, gazed glazed at the stage, resisting the spazmatic furor of the band as till the end of the onstage stint.

Social Distortion fills the air as they boys and I shuffle back and forth gear in hand. Sweaty like shit Fred puts on his jacket, arm into arm, ready to head back home.

“Keep comin’ and you can be friends with those guys.”

“Sounds fun.”

Sure Fred, why not? The experience as a roadie will undoubtedly prepare me for years ahead, because what other incentive do they have to drag along some dimwitted reporter? Back inside my seats taken, must be a popular spot. Understandably so, up front ashtray all to itself – last time I checked it was illegal to smoke in bars though…

Anyway, Long shot cleared off the next band Black Tie Review – a Pittsburgh five piece with a synth/keyboard/whatever the hell it is – takes the stage for another round at Memories. Starting off, BTR kick it up like a new school Man or Astroman? hooked on 80′s synth pop – Calling Hong Kong style. With their habit of airy melodies and Kirby style 8 bit-riffs, BTR sound like something straight off an old Honest Don’s compilation. Crunchy guitar lays a foundation for punchy bass notes and a crowd bound clap build up to a wordless chorus beckoning my ears from against the back wall. Finished with their opener, the poppy fivesome belts off a rockin’ number – “I’m So Short” – with guitar hooks abound and a less prominent synth backing up the lead guitar.

Ending with foghorn ooh-ooh’s the upbeat five sets a sharp contrast to the corrosive grit of Long Shot with Weezer-like solos and sensible vocal melodies. Steady beats and bouncy rhythms are abound in what sounds like a less gallery Ben Kweller, mocking the artist’s chiller numbers with tambourine shakes on “There’s Nothing Wrong With Veronica” a charming tune screaming with outsourced instruments and danceable wah wah’s. Amicable key dramas form an elated drone as the lead singer croons to an arm and arm circle of dancers up front. Light breaks enable the drummer to illuminate the crowd with snappy fills reminding the audience there is percussion to be had.

With new energy the lead singer breaks into an onomatopoeia filled breakdown circa 1953. The next song opens with a misleadingly downtempo – nay melancholy – guitar and vocal intro only to break into their usual amiable beat. The distortion is tasteful and the mood light as drums pound away fermenting a huggy bear build up into a kindergarten crass chorus of woa oh oh oh’s. Ending with an appealing but unoriginal pop-punk number, Black Tie Review left the stage sending me back to the EL.

In the end, music’s a matter of opinion, but I’d have to say I saw some kickass bands tonight. Whether they be caustic Long Shot or kindhearted Black Tie Review, the Memory delivered in spades. Serious as sin boys, this Chicago night will make my suburban morning all the more wake-able.

Primes – Weapons Tanks Fire

So in honor of the interview that I did with my friend Jack Joseph Duckworth, I thought I would do a mini series highlighting his bands. The first entry is Primes…I copy and pasted my review of their original CD. I think it is still appropriate, although the new songs are a little bit softer yet more jarring and have quite a bit more melody to them. Check it.

The Prime’s debut is definitely a departure from Jack’s previous work, stripping away a lot of the melody and making the ultimate in cold industrial dance music. It took me a few listens to fully appreciate this album, because it is not as immediately accessible as his older bands, but once you get it, you really get it. Taking cues from Nitzer Ebb, Einsturzende Neubaten, and Fad Gadget, this will get you moving in no time. No, they don’t dress in all black and worship at The Faint’s altar – rather, they want to destroy it and all of its adherents with this brutal album. Get on top of this now.

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