Wooden Wand – James & the Quiet

Upon reading up on James Toth’s latest release, James & the Quiet, I found out that his goal for his last release under the Wooden Wand moniker was to make a record that is “un-weird.” I suppose this was a valiant idea, but Toth has been known for mixing psychedelica with his folk up to this point, and usually when an artist goes outside his comfort zone, it ends in disaster.

Fortunately, Sonic Youth member and all around awesome musician Lee Ranaldo came in and focused Toth, producing the record as well as contributing guitar and piano. Steve Shelley mans the kit and a familiar group of Toth comrades fill out the rest of the cast. The result is possibly Toth’s darkest and most affecting record to date.
James & the Quiet didn’t quite achieve the level of “un-weirdness” that Toth was most likely looking for, but it’s definitely more straightforward than his back catalog. It begins with “The Pushers,” which is the most immediately accessible song on the album. It’s a serious folk stomper with soulful harmonies, a simple electric lead, and a cacophonous guitar solo. While it’s not exactly the most straightforward song you’ll ever hear, it’s miles from the sound of Second Attention in terms of normalcy.

“In A Bucket” gets a little stranger and begins to let the darkness of the record collect over the listener. Lines like “we were dizzy honey bees in a bucket of tar” and “sometimes getting dressed is the most important meal of the day” provide some strange imagery while an electric, Johnny Cash-style lead howls in the distance.

The most impressive songs are the ones that keep Toth center stage, which is a credit to Ranaldo’s production and keen ear for detail. The eerie haze reverberating through the album really hammers home just how talented Toth is as an all around artist. “Delia” is a trip into the life of a woman who represents evil and death. “Blood,” by far the creepiest track of the album, is a cryptic picture of the world sucking your life away as you grow from an infant into adulthood.

All in all, James & the Quiet is a fantastic journey through the dark, fucked up psyche of a great songwriter, while possibly being the best record Wooden Wand has ever produced. Toth creates a rewarding listen for anyone willing to lower their guard and embrace his new direction. Listen to this one while driving through the woods at night.

Botox Party – Bring In the Suck EP

A couple reviews back, I wrote about an album recently released by one of the new wave of pop-punk bands that has incorporated every emo cliche into the genre and subsequently sucking the heart out of everything I once loved about it. Not that I don’t occasionally enjoy some of this music, it just doesn’t live up to the good ol’ days of fast and fun pop-punk with heart and energy. Then, I finally decided to listen to a band called Botox Party. A name like this could have been a turn-off, but these three snot nosed cats play some pretty infectious and aggressive pop-punk with elements of street punk and hardcore thrown in for good measure.

Bring In the Suck starts off with something I haven’t heard in ages: the not-much-longer than 30 second hardcore song. “New Years” though fun and furious, ends all too short, but its still a nice touch. Then comes the Jawbreaker-esque “Problematic Emotions”. This could have been a fairly straightforward track, yet I felt an appreciation when the time would change for short bursts of raw energy during the chorus. “Elitist Social Class” is the typical anthem dedicated to the punk rock lifestyle. Here there are a lot of dueling vocals and the song breezes by at lightning speed.

Clocking it at no more than 1:50, “Stealing Childhood”, though sounding like a lighthearted tune, is an indictment on public schools. Again a song that ends too quick leaving many good ideas on the table. “The Best of Times” is probably my favorite track thanks to the heartfelt lyrics about memories, friends, family and basically days gone by. Towards the end there is a cool little breakdown featuring some classic pop-punk guitar playing. Its simple yet effective. The last song “Work and Suffer” is definitely their most Anti-Flag inspired and the similarity in vocals to the vocals of Chris #2 only adds to this.

For the most part Botox Party possesses more heart than a lot of pop-punk artist slowly being picked up by major labels and losing what once made them great (H2O). The only problem with this EP is the way the songs end, most just fade out on what could possibly be their most opportune moments. Nonetheless, these guys were a refreshing listen and I’ll be looking forward to a major release.

Jens Lekman – Night Falls Over Kortedala

When the young folks find gangster rap, Sweden, too, is a dangerous place. Jen Lekman would have us believe that back in the day Hammer Hill, the Gothenburg suburb he grew up in, changed when friends got a hold of NWA and Snoop Dogg albums.

It’s tough to tell whether or not he’s joking about his childhood friends being in “jail or dead” as a result of rap – like he’s said in interviews. The content of his songs is so ironic, and precise in showing us Lekman’s little fascinations and romantic yearning. For example, the last track on Night Falls Over Kortedala manages to drench a song about a depressing bingo hub for lower class gamblers into swelling piece of violin stringed romanticism.

Lekman is a flagrant exaggerator, if not a downright liar. Maybe he wishes morbidly that his friends were dead or maybe they aren’t and still do regular stuff in that little town – going to sleep at 9 p.m. with most of the natives. It sure wouldn’t be much fun if they were alive. And that’s really what this album is about.

Night Falls Over Kortedala should appeal to American audiences that listen to gangster rap at dance parties with a go ahead nod from Girl Talk. But also, enough personal experience and reflection is put into this three year in the making, that die-hard Morrissey fans can safely shrug off the glaring ape job done upon their savior’s croon. Lekman mourns, sings, and swoons. It’s pretty hard to turn down, just as his collection of self-referencing, string heavy ballads You‘re So Silent Jens was.

Come for the emotion; stay for the gangster mocking. We promise you won’t get shot.

He ain’t a gangster, but he breaks some rules here. Part of the fun of this record is listening for those little glitches, the moments where Lekman puts down the role of writer, and steps right into the songs whether the precious things want him there or not.

“If I could cry it would be like this,” Lekman says in “If I Could Cry (It Would Be Like This).” In this song Lekman employs a most creative way to introduce a music solo. The lyrical equivalent “Night” would be when Jens signs his own name in the song (it’s pronounced Yens).

In “Kanske Ar Jag Kar I Dig” midway through there’s a break that sounds like shards of glassing falling over the dance party. A Motown guitar vamp keeps the song in line before some odd edit splicing disrupt the guitar lead. Then the lead comes back again in triumphant form, scaling down the fret before making way for some vintage brass notes that are cut into tiny pieces. The song falls away from you. It’s the track you play again.

“I’m Leaving Because I Don’t Love You” gives us the easiest entry point. Lekman shows us the importance of being earnest.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t love you enough/I’m so sorry that I’m leaving you”

All plunks and piano for a starlit night with a little too much light pollution. This is the sound of busy boulevards at night and the love that gets carried away. Lekman writes about many different places; he’s been from Bingo Halls to Berlin. This kind of life leaves love as shadowy footprints, and this little charmer knows it. The melancholic tone of this single worthy track reflects Lekman’s deft ear for the sadness.

Earlier it was established that Lekman was a liar. That’s unfair. Especially when he lays bare one principle that threads the album. He’s really about love. He’s a martyr for love. And he’s living in Richard Hell’s world, where love comes in spurts. In the opening track huge orchestra waves wash over his Declaration in “Man Needs a Maid,” London Orchestra style: “I will never kiss any one who doesn’t burn me like the sun.”

Later he writes a very touching “A Postcard to Nina,” who turned out a lesbian, which made it hard for Lekman to accept the loss. We are told he writes “you because I think about you every second.” He doesn’t return her father’s phone calls to him, his father rather liked Jens, he listens to Jens’ record. Soul singers snap and welcome Lekman’s horn section and Lekman’s little outbursts – “Oh God what have I done/I came to Berlin to have some fun!” He wrestles with this story beautifully until the end when the resignation and the passing comes.

A soft brass bridge hits before Lekman finally tells her, “Don’t let it any one stand in your way/ Your’s Truly, Jens Lekman.” This is the key track, the one fans have been requesting and relished at most of Lekman’s shows of the past three years.

But there’s more jokes. What a subversive little compiler Lekman is. Most artists holding onto the notion of a concept album (this one being Jens’ home Kortedala and the way it seems face-to-face and on the road) always leave those sad sack songs for the end, all profound. But Lekman leaves us with a story from his two days working at the drive-in bingo hall in Sweden. The pulse of “Friday Night at the Drive-In Bingo” echoes the rollicking gallop of mercurial-era Bob Dylan. He’s even riding on a little motor bike; probably as clumsy as Dylan too. Lekman’s ideas about gambling also mimic those epic Dylan tracks.

“Riding on my moped looking for fun/staring into the blood red sun/The country road is a boulevard/with neon lights and nights open bars/ In my jacket a pack of playing cards/Just Jacks, Jokers and a queen of hearts/my heart is beating, beating like Ringo as I pull into the Drive-In bingo

Images of Dylan’s rhapsodic “Lilly and the Jack of Hearts” from his post-motorcycle crash masterpiece Blood on the Tracks come directly to mind. With a horn line fit for a sitcom full of silly white people, “Drive Inn Bingo” ends on a high note. To think this is what Lekman makes of the Drive In bingo. Listening to Lekman’s take on a very unromantic scene where the desolate folk travel to gamble their last dollar or just fall asleep, is like watching magic live or something. How Lekman’s world drips romantic all the time.

Think of what he could do with your life.

Bob Parins and True Love Always – The Kissing Rocks

Normally, I’m a sucker for this kind of stuff. You know, that sweet super-catchy pop rock. But due to the demise of my marriage my heart is darker and I’m no longer a pushover for someone whose harmonies resemble McCartney’s or Wilson’s. Bob Parins, along with his backing band True Love Always, have crafted a sort of celebration of sunny hooks throughout their album Kissing the Rocks. But, does his pop mastery, and meaty guitar work, brighten my heart? That is the ultimate question.

A grand piano interlude introduces “Mr. Face” and then the twinkling piano enters like a lullaby. Then it builds up and falls into the sweet little pop ditty that it is. Incredibly catchy, complete with “bah bah bah baaaah” backing vocals, the song is a good thermometer of the rest of the album. A T. Rex groove intros “I’m Dancing”, which is a nonsensical song with lyrical content summed up in the title. Still, for being a little ditty, it is filled out well with a spiky guitar and a roaming bassline. “OOOOOOO la la la” greets us in “Polly”, which is not the Nirvana tune, but a slow paced, falsetto song about a parakeet. Still tuneful and full of great sounds, but not much else. “This Might Be the Coffee Talking” is an acoustic song and features a mouth harp. Hilarious, yes, but it still is an effective song with cynical lyrical imagery. “This might be the coffee talking/but I’d say everything can be alright” seems a fine sentiment for this dark tale.

“The Kissing Rocks” does indeed rock and still is catchy as hell. Bob fills out his voice with a little grit that hasn’t been heard before and the band rocks out. There really isn’t anything cute about this track. “Spave Explores the Gian Microchip” is a noisy instrumental and up next we get a whistle – another near instrumental – in “How?”. It’s followed closely by the third track in this mini opera, “Like This” – another instrumental which stems from the other two, but is slightly more strong. “I’ll Be There” picks up the pace again with Bob wailing his head off, a driving piano, and the band packing in a nice little punch with the addition of a gospel choir near the end. Class. “What it is” has a nice little buzzy riff and it meanders on for a while, but then the big chorus comes in and Bob screams like Macca in “Helter Sketler”. An epic track that features some jammy guitar work and ends with a near whisper. We finish with “I Know, I Know” which has a jive organ riff and another catchy as hell chorus.

Now, for a self released album, the sound of this one is incredible. It is stuffed to the gills with sonic tweaks and twitches, which in no way detract from the tunes. That’s what its ultimately about, ain’t it? I mean if you are looking for catchy, Beatles inspired rock, then Bob Parins is your man.

But my heart is only a little brighter due to the disappointment that I somehow feel about this record. Yes, it’s bright, well crafted, and great sounding, but there is almost no weight to it. That is just a personal bitch, though, because it is easy to recommend The Kissing Rocks overall.

Matt McCormick – Very Stereo

Very Stereo is the musical debut of experimental filmmaker Matt McCormick. He uses computer programs along with other instruments and found sounds to create minimalist electronic soundtracks that probably fit well with experimental short films but will try most listener’s patience without the visual aids to help occupy their minds.

The nine tracks and fifty-seven minutes include various droning buzzes and static washes coupled with choppy keyboards and chirping electronic noises that are intended as abstract sound tracks, and it shows. Any melodies prove elusive and those that appear do so fleetingly and teeter on the edge of being eerily disarming and annoyingly eerie. At it’s best Very Stereo approaches palatable, ambient electro-pop, as on opener “Oh, Sunshine” with it’s bright keyboards and clicky beats. At it’s worst, the use of voice mail messages, droning noise and telegraph beeps on “Blue Remains Grey” and the toy-like, pre-programmed Casio beats on “For Homesick Memories” are irritating, annoying and boring.

These electronic sound collages are mostly cold, robotic and unimaginative and lack any of the warmth that is usually associated with ambient electronic music and should be taken as more of an electronic musical experiment rather than experimental electronic music. In the liner notes, the artist suggests trying these electronic abstractions with headphones, closing your eyes and making your own movie. I suggest skipping it entirely and trying something from Dntel, Boards Of Canada or Kriedler when you want to hear some tasteful and melodic minimalist electronica.

Year of No Light – Nord

In France, Nord is the most populous and furthest North part of the country. Since Year of No Light is a French band, one can assume that the title of this record refers to that “département” as administrative units of the country are known. Who would have guessed that France could produce such a brutal group, but then again it did give us Finger Print. Like that group, Year of No Light trades in 90’s Ebullition style hardcore albeit with a little crescendo rock and sludge thrown in for good measure. Unfortunately if one were to go on the vast amount of criticism widely available since the album’s initial release in 2006, it would lead you to believe you were going to hear some ISIS/Neurosis/Pelican/Godflesh type of band. While there’s any army of clones springing up even as we speak that mimic those groups’ template, there really isn’t a whole lot of it to be found on Nord. In all honesty, Year of No Light has a lot more in common with a band like Envy or Yaphet Kotto.

If you get through the opening instrumental track, the second song sounds like it could have come straight off of Envy’s Level Plane full-length, A Dead Sinking Story. Year of No Light manages to improve vastly on the Envy template by not hamming it up vocally. Instead of the cheesy growl of Envy frontman Tetsuya Fukagawa (I can see the hatemail pouring in now from fans), we get vocals that are in fact very similar to Reversal of Man’s Matt Complon on This Is Medicine. A crushing riff bores straight into your skull as the onslaught kicks into high gear. A few times the record veers dangerously close to chugga chugga metallic hardcore but the sludge element makes up for it with screeching feedback and downtuned heaviness unachieved by that other genre’s charlatans. The dynamic range volleys back and forth between contemplative noodling ala Mogwai or MONO and pummeling abrasiveness. While it never reaches the stratospheric heights of masters like City of Caterpillar or ISIS in that aspect, it nonetheless makes for a satisfying listen.

The Mishaps – "Rock and Roll" b/w "Woke the Devil Up" 7"

For a band that’s laid down barely four-and-a-half minutes of tuneage on this slab of vinyl, The Mishaps sure have packed a lot of influence into each second. The 60’s styled keyboard work adds a few flourishes, but The Mishaps keep things lean and mean.

Musically, A-Side “Rock and Roll” sounds like an outtake from The Who’s days as The High Numbers with Rod Argent dropping in to play keys. The vocals lean more to the snotty punk side, but the end result is two minutes of ‘please go re-drop the needle ASAP’ goodness.

With the vocals holding steady, B-Side “Woke the Devil Up” twists more towards early Husker Du filtered through Nashville Pussy – yes, really. The guitars are insane, and when things let up for an ‘interlude’ of sorts, there’s a bad-ass surf sound six-string bit going on. The drums pound tirelessly through every second, giving forceful backing to an already strong song. It’s also worth nothing that the phrase “French fry America” appears in spoken word form, as well.

This 7” is the sort of rock and roll that fits any mood or need. While the vinyl comes with a CDEP of the tracks alongside two other decent numbers (guitar solo laden “Mamma Jamma” and generic rocker “Children of the Sun”), there’s real power in the grooves of the two tunes on the actual record – recommended alongside a six-pack of cheap beer.

The Ergs – Upstairs/Downstairs

Upstairs/Downstairs is a well-crafted, high-spirited new record with a sound reminiscent of the Get Up Kids. After forming in 2000, the success of their 2005 album dorkrockcorkrod and some record label changes, The Ergs signed to Dirtnap Records in 2006. This New Jersey trio’s full-length album makes up for what it lacks in maturity with flat-out fun. The Ergs are currently touring on the east coast after the album’s spring release.

The Ergs’ music is set apart by their unbridled energy, self-effacing humor, and youthful genuineness. The songs are relatively brief, the first track coming in at just 54 seconds. (It has been said, however, that brevity is the soul of wit.) The album begins to hit its stride with the excellent “See Him Again” and the alt-country throwback “Stinking of Whiskey Blues”, which are definite stand-outs. The final track, “Upstairs/Downstairs”, is over eighteen minutes of mostly instrumental pop-punk segmented into three parts with a few lyrical touches. The trio shows their real talents here, with great riffs and catchy drumming.

The Ergs’ lyrics are not particularly strong, but their style of play and sense of humor compensate for it. The Ergs don’t take themselves too seriously, and this makes Upstairs/Downstairs a fun, engaging, and easygoing album.

Signal to Trust – Golden Armour

When a record fails to stick in your mind for very long, to the used bin it goes. I’ve kept records I’ve hated and grown to love, records I’ve loved and grown to hate, and every arrangement of those words in between. But meh records simply collect dust. Signal to Trust’s Golden Armour is about as close as you can get to meh, without quite tumbling into the vapid void.

Some tracks do attract. Standout “Now the Mouse is Freezing” features a cutting guitar careening into space, an ugly slice of notes alternating between taking and giving punches to the face. After that, a few random riffs jump out and flick at your ears for a moment or two, but the rest give the listener nothing special to grasp. The band isn’t bored, thank god, and Golden Armour features many different guitar parts and sounds. Vocalist Brian Severns comes off like an earnest Eddie Argos; I can’t tell if he’s a UK transplant, sings in a faux British accent, or he just naturally sounds British.

The lyrics explore worlds both imaginary and real simultaneously, as Severns sings of Crazinas, wars, and the cosmos. The most memorable line, “So take Trucker’s Speed and watch the TV,” repeats on disc and in the mind, and leaves you racing to a gas station for caffeine pills and Red Bull. The fact that something does stick is nice, and listening to Golden Armour isn’t quite a trip to the dentist. It’s more like dating Sarah plain and tall and realizing she gives decent hand jobs. It’s worth a few tries, but time begins to drag and callous with this average album.

Aesop Rock – None Shall Pass

When 2007 is in the books no one will remember the feud between 50 Cent and Kanye West and what’s left of anything labeled “crunk” will have fizzled out. The true victors will be Dizzee Rascal, Pharoahe Monch, and Aesop Rock. Aes continues to release album after impressive album of claustrophobic beats and his spitfire flow of verses.

There’s a reason the man only releases an album every few years; because it takes that long for what he says to sink in. First you have to catch everything as the flow is coming at you like bombs over Baghdad. Then you have to think about what he’s really saying. His metaphors and allegories are a whole different method of storytelling, the likes of which hip hop has rarely seen and each release contains a list a few phenomenal turns of a phrase. (I won’t ruin anything for you but when you take a listen to None Shall Pass keep your ears open for the Charlie Brown reference.) This is perhaps why he, or much of the Def Jux crew, hasn’t caught on to a larger audience. In this day where everything has to be as it happens, Aesop rock’s delivery delivers. But it needs to be dumbed down and explained just as quickly and to spin a good yarn, well, Aes doesn’t have the urge to do that.

None Shall Pass is perhaps the first of his albums to really show the influences of the underground. Samples of educational film dialogue are used, reminiscent of Boards of Canada and DJ Big Wiz supplies some well placed scratching much like DJ Shadow. The title track, the best on the album, has a minimal beat, aligned closer to Kraftwerk than Can Ox and underneath a sneaky guitar line twists around the corners of the song. There are also moments that recall the jazzy and laid back feel of A Tribe Called Quest and the “kill your television” chant is pure KRS-1.

But you can never stray too far away from your family. Although the production on the album is handled mostly by Aes or Blockhead, “Catacomb Kids” sounds like a b-side for anything off of El-P’s excellent I’ll Sleep When You’re Dead. And what makes the Def Jukies so great is that when they guest on each other’s albums, they don’t come up short. El-P’s verses on “Gun For The Whole Family” are some of his best, retaining his trademark wit and venom but not sounding like some leftovers from his own albums.

There’s apparently been some concern about Aesop moving from New York to California and how this would affect his sound. Sure he’s still going to be the guy sporting the Yankees hat and that congestion of the city will influence him for years to come. But something about the fresh air and sunny skies of San Francisco must have done him some good. By toning down the frantic bass and drum patterns his lyrics are given a better chance to be heard and thus they become more effective. Let the bloggers cry about the change all they want but None Shall Pass is the most focused and dare I say accessible album of Aesop’s career.

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