Dinosaur Jr. – Farm

Two years ago, Dinosaur Jr. returned with its original trio to deliver one of 2007’s best albums. Asserting itself as the loud and grunge master it sincerely is, J Mascis and crew have now found their fountain of youth with Farm. An album every bit as good as Beyond, it’s time to realize that not only is Dinosaur Jr. back, but the group sounds better than ever.

Just look at that album cover, how cool is that? It opens up to reveal a lushly painted palette of hazy artwork. If the music was even half as neat as that, we’d be in store for something magnificent. Well, the good news is that the music on Farm is meatier, lengthier and in many ways, bests the highest highs on Beyond. At first listen, “Ocean in the Way” sounds like your usual ballad: tempo taken back, reflective and yearning but Mascis’ guitar shines with a maniacal gleam. Singing with his bandmates, Lou Barlow and Murph, in full support, Mascis reaches levels of melodic supremacy with every note he plays.  

It’s not like they have anything to prove but in many ways, the band leads on in that very prevalent manner. Here, the music is allowed to flourish and develop on its own and with Mascis at the production helm, he cranks up the volume to 11 allowing it to blast through your speakers. There are three songs that all top the six minute mark and they make for substantially deeper music. “Said the People” finds Mascis singing in a low croon, at times classic rock and at times guitar god, the music nestles between a clamoring of reverberation and a magical bridge. In a different way, “I Don’t Wanna Go There” is a rocking jam of the best kind. A kiss-off to a broken relationship, Mascis sings in his most absolutely blunt self, “I am gone,” and his guitar solo is one of the angriest, ripping and torrid ones on the entire album.

Everything begins with a bang with “Pieces”‘ spectacular opening notes. And from here on out, every single song’s pulling grasp is one that is just as much enthralling as it is riveting. There’s the asking of a lending hand on the booming “Friends” and the radiant moonlight of “Plans,” each unmistakably spellbinding in their own way.

This all makes for tremendously awesome music and there is no hiding exactly what kind of music this is. If you came looking for a softly gentle and hushed album then you reached a dead end. Fortunately, if you’ve seen the happy-go-lucky video for “Over It,” Dinosaur Jr. doesn’t make that style of music. The music’s deafening and it’s astonishing that these are the sounds three, now much older and wiser, men are creating. The melodies are brighter, the hooks are catchier and heck, even their songwriting chops have been sharpened. Barlow’s songs are still easily recognizable but “Your Weather”’s fast-paced fuzz and “Imagination Blind”’s stoner demeanor are outstanding additions to Farm.

This is one mighty album, one that will tower over others like the green shrubs that tower over the buildings on the cover. It’s amazingly brilliant and will endlessly reward with repeated listens. On a side note, if you haven’t given the band’s second through fourth albums a listen, they are downright essential. For one, they’re a lot shorter than the hour-long tour that Farm is, but are they as good? Well, the jury’s going to be out on that one for quite some time.

“I Want You to Know” by Dinosaur Jr.

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Jagjaguwar

Madlib – Beat Konducta Vol. 5-6

Madlib stands as the ultimate jack-of-all-trades. As a world-renowned producer, he has produced beats for MF Doom, De La Soul, Mos Def, and Talib Kweli. When he plays his alter-ego Quasimoto, he drops quick, skittering, intelligent rhymes. But Madlib’s true strength lies in his solo beat tapes. This release is the fifth and sixth volumes in his famous “Beat Konducta” instrumentals, and this new installment is hands-down the best of that series. Dedicated to the late J Dilla, Vol. 5-6 is certainly not Madlib’s most creative beat tape to date, but it is by far his most introspective and emotional. J Dilla was a long-time hip hop collaborator of Madlib’s and was one of the few trustworthy souls with whom the reclusive Madlib felt close. These two godfathers of rhythm stood unmatched in their talent and prolific output. They were lifelong acquaintances, but were also aggressive rivals. This nurturing, but competitive environment allowed the two to push each other to new, unforeseen levels of talent. However, in the early 2000’s, J Dilla’s health began to decline. Shortly after a particularly grueling 2005 European tour, J Dilla died of complications resulting from TTP, a rare blood disorder.

As a tribute to his recently-deceased friend, Madlib has woven a masterful, deeply atmospheric record. Constructed of mellow, spacey jazz beats and peppered by 1960’s television samples, Vol. 5-6 sounds remarkably surreal. Old snazzy string basses and sirens punctuate Madlib’s signature slurred, marijuana-clouded, drum beats. Much of the techniques and production used in mixing pay homage to J-Dilla, and sound similar to Donuts, the album released 3 days before his untimely death.

Upon first listen, this record sounds strangely foreign, but upon replay, it reveals subtle familiarities that evoke washes of nostalgia. Most of the samples in this album were taken from obscure jazz and soul records, but when they are scrambled and juxtaposed, they sound remarkably familiar and comforting. Beat Konducta Vol. 5-6 is a haunting, spiritual masterpiece, and its cryptic messages dealing with death, redemption, and legacy are not meant to be taken lightly.

With Beat Konducta Vol. 5-6, Madlib has not only crafted the perfect tribute album. He has immortalized the late Dilla, by showing how something as simple as the language of music can be used to channel the ideas and memories of those who have left us too soon.

Stones Throw

Darkest Hour – The Eternal Return

I love Darkest Hour. The group has gained notariety and landed some big tours with big bands and they prove time and time again how much they deserve the respect and fame afforded to them, unlike some of the most popular bands in the new metal landscape. Darkest Hour is straight up thrash for a new age, and the members know how to do it right. Unfortunately for the group’s latest, The Eternal Return, the tried and true formula feels like it is wearing a little thin for the first time, but it’s still far from a total misstep.

It starts off in true Darkest Hour fashion on “Devolution of Flesh”, with a chugging, building guitar riff that explodes into some fine thrash and eventually into a big payoff with signature lead riffs. Classic Darkest Hour. This is followed up by “Death Worship”, which takes basically the same approach, but with an even bigger emotion laced vocal delivery from John Henry and an even flashier solo from new lead guitarist Mike Carrigan. By the way, Carrigan has proven himself as a worthy replacement for the sorely missed Kris Norris.

Carrigan really shows his chops on the stellar leads in songs like “No God” and “Blessed Infection”. “A Distorted Utopia” features one of my favorite solo’s ever in any Darkest Hour song. There’s a prog like quality to the way it is delivered and the production elevates it to epic status.

Most of the songs on this album touch on the standard topics found on most Darkest Hour albums: religion, politics and deep personal tomes. What Darkest Hour almost completely abandons from its past two most successful releases, Undoing Ruin and Deliver Us, is the semi clean vocals found in some of the catchiest numbers. The band still pulsl off being melodic and poweful (“Black Sun” is a must listen), but here they’ve combined their most technical riffs found on the latter mentioned albums and combined them with the straight up thrash/punk edge of their earliest releases.

Unfortunately, where Darkest Hour falters here is by delivering yet another Darkest Hour album. I couldn’t be happier for this, but the band has yet to evolve very much since its peak with Undoing Ruin. Should they call it in yet? Of course not; The Eternal Return showcases tons of promise yet it would be nice if the band really took things to the next level and released an album that lives up to, or even exceeds Undoing Ruin. Until then, give this a chance and hear some of the most powerful and melodic thrash metal around.

SUNN 0))): Midwest and West Coast Tour

SUNN O))) with special guests EAGLE TWIN
7/02/2009: Chicago, IL – Empty Bottle
7/05/2009: Minneapolis, MN – Varsity Theater
7/06/2009: Omaha, NE – Sokol Auditorium / Underground
7/07/2009: Kansas City, MO – The Riot Room
7/08/2009: St. Louis, MO – The Firebird
7/10/2009: Dekalb, IL – House Cafe
7/11/2009: Pontiac, MI – Eagle Theater
7/12/2009: Newport, KY – Southgate House

SUNN O))): MONOLITHS & DIMENSIONS WEST COAST 2009
8/05/2009 Neumo’s – Seattle, WA w/ The Accüsed (record release show!), Trap Them, Black Breath
8/06/2009 Neumo’s – Seattle, WA w/ Earth, Pelican, Eagle Twin
8/08/2009 Independent – San Francisco, CA w/ the Accüsed, Eagle Twin
8/09/2009 Historic Brookdale Lodge – Brookdale, CA w/ the Accüsed, Eagle Twin
8/11/2009 Center for Arts, Eagle Rock – Los Angeles, CA w/ the Accüsed, Eagle Twin
8/13/2009 Bluebird Theatre – Denver, CO w/ the Accüsed, Eagle Twin
8/14/2009 Avalon Theatre – Salt Lake City, UT w/ the Accüsed, Eagle Twin

Two Cow Garage – Speaking In Cursive

Rock N’ Roll, more than any other genre of music, is written for, listened to and inspired by teenagers. Perhaps the simple and carefree days of youth lend themselves specifically to rock treatment, but through and through, the best rock songs are centered on freewheeling adolescents and sung by adults who just want to go back, man.

Two Cow Garage frontman Micah Schnabel understands this notion all too well. Possessing a box-of-reds voice that is equal parts Robby Takac and Patterson Hood, Schnabel and his band weave tales of desperate heartbreak, Friday night binges, and the power of rock n’ roll as a medicine on Speaking In Cursive, the band’s fourth LP.

Opening track “Your Humble Narrator” quietly kicks things off; the song’s rolling drum pattern and single, sparse acoustic guitar evokes all the stillness and tranquility of a morning after, a sentiment Schnabel echoes in the opening lines. “Waking up to cassette tapes and ashtray’s/All filled up from the night before/Smoke filled lungs and tape’s full of songs/And a stranger laying on the floor.” For the characters that inhabit Two Cow Garage’s world, however, a confusing morning after would be a welcome respite from the hardships and struggles they face on a daily basis.

Although many of the songs are autobiographical in nature (“Folksinger’s Heart” laments how “it was arrogant to think from the start/you were the only backyard Dylan with a folksinger’s heart”), one of Speaking In Cursive’s finest moments comes via “Sadie Mae”, a fascinating character study about a teenager’s penchant for self-medication and the isolation that follows. A plaintive dirge that rises and falls, much like Sadie’s life, the song tells the story of a God’s honest good girl with a Virgin Mary tattoo and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt who can’t tangle herself out of the thick binds of drug use and loneliness. Sadie is in so deep that even drugs aren’t a proper escape anymore; she admits that if they don’t provide her with some temporary excitement, “Then nothing ever will,” a lonely sentiment indeed.

As good as all of these songs are, however, none of them can match the power and beauty of “Swingset Assassin,” the best song on the album. An acoustic track built around a simple, folksy chord progression, “Assassin” is a hymn to the transformative power of music. We follow the narrator of the song, likely Schnabel himself, from childhood to adolescence; wearing hand me down clothes and sporting a brain filled with “juvenile schemes”, he listens to the Beatles simply because that’s “what you’re told to do,” later growing in and out of punk rock and changing his clothes and hair style accordingly. It is a song that shows the power music can have over our appearance and how we act, while also reminding us how we tend to remember major milestones in our lives through its lenses.

Speaking in Cursive is cut from the same mold as a band like The Hold Steady: true believers in the sheer power of balls-to-the-wall guitar blasts coupled with lyrics which actually say something vital. The youngsters inhabiting Two Cow Garage’s world may not lead the most wholesome of lives or find themselves in the easiest of situations, but they carry on, hunkered down in the muck of the world, knowing that with a little bit of luck and some killer tunes, they’ll be OK. And that, readers, is the calling card of a great band.

Bellini – The Precious Prize of Gravity

Four long years separate The Precious Prize of Gravity, Italian-American band Bellini’s latest effort, and its previous, Small Stones. There are plenty of similarities to be found – both records were recorded by sound guru Steve Albini, both find release on Temporary Residence – but it’s undeniable that Gravity is the hardest-hitting and most complex release in their somewhat limited oeuvre.

Why’s that? Look first to the instruments: serpentine riffs and disorienting rhythms communicate in spikes and jitters in what can be best described as the Jesus Lizard boiling in a pot of Don Caballero, or some captivating cultivar of pigfuck progressive. Bellini haphazardly grafts (cow)punk/no wave onto the face of math rock and do so in as natural a sound as possible. Invigorating music, here. But that’s not the best part.

This type of rock has always thrived off of instrumental acumen rather than anything meaningful to communicate in actual language (Don Cab’s purposefully absurd song titles perhaps best exemplifying this trait), so vocals – typically, malevolent yelps, grotesque non-sequiturs, etc – come across more as props or novelties than anything substantive. Bellini subvert this trend with sheer, um, gravity: having experienced the losses of several loved ones, multiple songs on The Precious Prize of Gravity explicate casualty, fear, regret, melancholy. One such is “The Thin Line,” a somber composition featuring members of Silkworm, themselves no strangers to death having tragically lost drummer Michael Dahlquist to a car accident in ‘05. Giovanna Cacciola’s voice sounds like a mix of Björk, PJ Harvey, and Lydia Lunch, her style somewhere between sprechgesang and shouting. Powerful and steadfast, it’s difficult not to grasp for each individual word as she pushes them from her mouth.

Gravity’s only real stumble would be song construction. Complex riff/rhythm combination simply gives way to another set of bewildering phrase, with not much room for progression or movement. Given how exemplary the musicianship is, though, this little faltering point can be overlooked. So, go out and grab this one – there’s no telling how long it’ll take them to create its successor.

Hope Lane Is a Dead End – Illuminate

Illuminate, the debut from Hope Lane Is a Dead End, is a solid album in the struggling genre of metalcore. This isn’t a perfect album, but the band skillfully threads together a variety of disparate riffs–a sign of good metal songwriting.

Like indie rock fans, hardcore enthusiasts are a discriminating bunch. In that subculture, it’s hard to get popular, but staying popular is harder. The hardcore genre of metalcore peaked more than 7 years ago. Since then, new metalcore albums have drawn sneers from armies of black-shirted youths. Hope Lane Is a Dead End’s debut won’t turn that ship around, but its variety of attacks should turn a few heads.

This 5 piece dices up mathy riffs and syncopated rhythms with chugging breakdowns and follows those with riffs ranging from hard rock to thrash. After some early missteps, the bass turns in a strong performance and the drums roll mercilessly through the music–sometimes to a fault. The guitar distortion will meet mixed reviews; I heard too much treble and not enough of the bark and bite you can get from the right mix of highs and lows. But these 6-strings are technically proficient most of the time. Vocals come in your standard barks and yells with a few gang shouts and,of course, there is the negligible, occasional clean vocal you expect from metalcore.

The band calls Illuminate an album, but the 6 song collection seems more like an EP. These are all fully realized tracks with no intros or filler. First track “Taking Flight” won’t impress many. The layered vocals and heavy emoting sound uninspired. The track peaks with some quick Master of Puppets-era riffs, but these are often cut short by generic breakdowns. “Up to Our Necks” is a drum showcase accompanied by a strong bass performance. Metal is given to machine-like execution, and Hope Lane Is a Dead End is no different. But the band would do well to let out a few more moments of musical fury and abandon in order to connect with people emotionally.

The album gets better with “Botched Blueprints”. Chords become staccato chunks and guitars squeel between riffs. The anger and aggression translates. The band isn’t doing anything new, but they are doing it well. “Quotients” may be the album highlight. After kicking off with a spinning riff reminiscient of very early Megadeth, the music trades punches through a breakdown. Just after the 1 minute mark, the song drops into a grinding, pleasing groove. After abruptly picking up the pace, the guitars seize the momentum and engage with the bass guitar in a surf-inspired riff not unlike the old Adam West Batman TV theme, with complementary, quick-stepping, mid-range guitar and bass figures. Both entertaining and well-done.

Unfortunately, some good rock riffs get eclipsed by rapid fire bass drum and snare hits in “1984″. This is at least one time when the drums should have relaxed. From start to finish, the vocals run steady, resting only for a few precious moments. The songwriting thrives here as riffs switch off. Closing track “Ten Times Platinum” features some sinister bass work, making the first minute of this song solid. Next comes some effective hard rock riffs. But these end too soon as another generic breakdown takes over. From there, the song takes a wrong turn and goes through one of the genre’s biggest flaws–a way off-key clean vocal over predictable sequences of ringing chords and flighty drums.

Illuminate is a mostly average metalcore album. Only the songwriting stands out. Not every transition here is flawless, but a lot them are. And that allows the band to offer enough variety to keep fans interested.

Sunset Rubdown @ The Echoplex, Los Angeles, CA 06/23/09

Whenever travelling, one is at their most alert state: adapting to new surroundings, modifying to fresh crowds of people and attempting to be flexible enough to make these changes. When the opportunity arose to attend a Sunset Rubdown show in one of Los Angeles’ premiere clubs featuring independent music, to be succinct, it was a no brainer. And as Camilla Wynne Ingr pointed out ,”We played our first American gig here, but upstairs. And now we’ve made it to the bottom” it was obvious that for this Canadian band, they had indeed, made it. So quite honestly, it didn’t matter what kind of changes I needed to make.

Elfin Saddle and Witchies were at best, decent opening acts. The latter far more interesting and musical than the former but both-equally as much-left a great deal to be desired. Luckily for all of us in attendance, Spencer Krug and co. were up to the task. Their first tour featuring newest member, Mark Nicol, the band lit up the stage at The Echoplex in splendid fashion with all of their fine features in true form: Krug’s spastic, eccentric ways, the band’s musicianship always in top form, watching Krug’s every move, and the overall sonic endearment of it all.

Bursting at the seams with vivid stage presence, Krug convulses and shakes like few artists out there. Beginning with a dreamy, ambient initiation, it later turned into a frenetic rendition of “Idiot Heart.” And bouncing around while furiously striking away at his guitar, Krug’s hair blowed to the air of his personal fan while the band around him catered to his every need. Later on, they would open up their older catalog, with “Winged/Wicked Things”’s moving and stunning music being one of the many highlights. The drums now louder than ever, pounding away in a relentless manner, the menacing guitars swirling around and Krug’s “ba-de-da-de-dum” chant to join the guitar melody all played chief roles.

And although the crowd resembled a forest of chirping birds-shout after shout of requests-Krug and the band were amiable, continuing to cheer and toast the crowd after what seemed like nearly every song. Usually, the way I see it, it’s a treat to even get a band to travel to El Paso, but I guess obligatory as it may seem for the band, the crowds are used to it and feel as is they can shout what ever they like to the band. Nonetheless, Krug and his band laid out their set and promised to play a lot of “new stuff and a few older ones” for us.

The slamming music of “Black Swan” turned one of Dragonslayer’s more confusing songs into a realm of pulsating thunder and clashing lightning. Juxtaposed between passive introductions and sudden forzandos, the song really came to life in a live setting. And the crowd was giddy with excitement when the Japanese-like guitar of “The Mending of the Gown” came screaming in.

Especially sweet was the ending of the concert, with “Dragon’s Lair” performed in its entirety. What seems like a given standard, the encore ended with members of Elfin Saddle rejoining the stage to perform “Nightingale/December Song.” Not only did Sunset Rubdown render the song in such a fashion that it recalled stampeding wildebeests, forcefully banging down a hill but it was such a fitting ending: climactic, powerful and in Sunset Rubdown style, epic.

Jagjaguwar

Deer Tick – Born on Flag Day

Indubitably, Deer Tick’s first album, War Elephant, was a promising and solid start for the band. The biggest complaint was a silly one, being John McCauley’s gin-soaked, distinct voice. It’s silly because singers need to have at least something unique and identifiable to them and in many ways, his singing was an homage to the singer-songwriter he is channeling, Bob Dylan. And now, with Born on Flag Day, the Providence-based band has delivered one of the finest albums of the year.

Taken for what it is: strong folk leanings, with a sweet country shuffle, delivered with some of the best lyrics of the year, they all make for one brilliant combination. Ostensibly, McCauley’s voice sounds just the same and that gruff exterior is just fine when the music is this good. “Little White Lies”‘ beckoning calling finds McCauley singing a sad country ballad that sings, “With the thought of her, still dancing around my head. So please, let me be lonely tonight.” Forever unable to forget her, it’s like that viscous cycle many of us can relate to and just after that, the music cuts into a high-stepping, up-tempo taunt, “Let me forget about you.”

In many ways, it all comes in such an effortless manner, it feels like the band isn’t even trying and yet, the results are a resounding success. And ultimately, they’re enjoying each other’s company, wailing away on their instruments and following McCauley’s lead like loyal companions would. “Stung”’s one-two punch is backed by a richly rediscovered but wildly loose rendition of Lead Belly’s “Goodnight, Irene.” While McCauley performs the song as an acoustic dedication, he asks the band to join in on the chorus and this was after they had shouted, exclaimed and rustled in the background with sneering excitement.

Undoubtedly masters of its craft, Deer Tick shakes and rattles to whatever style it has adopted. The rollicking rock-a-billy of “Straight into a Storm” is a stunning revelation as McCauley feels like a dancing steamroller with the electric guitar digging and cracking under him with splendid calamity. On the other side of the coin, “Smith Hill” is an unabashed folk tune with more of those bluntly honest lyrics. Revealing more of the tender hurt, McCauley sings unapologetically, “I could drink myself to death tonight, or I could stand and give a toast. To those who made it out alive, it’s you I’ll miss the most.” Here, the use of female vocals and fitting strings make for an outstanding fusion of despair and letting go.

It’s hard to let go of the hurt but as much as this feels like an album enriched in the beautiful struggle we call life, it’s also about the hope and optimism of what lies ahead. “The Ghost” appears in a cloak of country twang and jiving guitar and it captures the essence of what it feels like to make a decision for yourself, rather than allowing it to be made for you. And “Friday XIII” is yet another attention-grabbing moment, except this time because of the music’s skillful style and melody. Leading into the female-male interplay, it’s easily one of the album’s best songs because of its endearing charm and captivating story-telling.

Regardless of whether or not you liked War Elephant, Born on Flag Day should not be ignored. For one, the two albums are dissimilar in so many ways, it’d be unfair to even compare them. If nothing else, it should be noted that this is an album for anyone who’s gone through a break-up and was on the receiving end. Deer Tick delivers that hope you need and do so with fantastic arrangements, touching music and McCauley’s signature delivery. You’d be foolish not to check it out.

Partisan Records

Jeepster – What If All The Rebels Died?

It would not be an insult to call Jeepster “stoner rock,” and it would not be a complete description either. Based on the band’s name, you’ve probably guessed that there’s a 70s vibe to the music and maybe a little T. Rex in there. You’d be right. This CD doesn’t hide its influences.

Unlike its heavier cousins Kyuss and Fu Manchu, Jeepster knows how to build songs that cuddle more than bludgeon. When you listen closely, you hear the Big Star kind of pop melodies just under the surface. “Ex Oh” might be a radio hit if it weren’t so short (and if radio still mattered), but listeners would not be able to tell whether it was from 2009 or 1979. “You Can’t Stop” and “Fiction Fiction” fit the same bill: tight, melodic, and hazy tracks that cross eras. Are those tube amps? Is that a tambourine? Are these the older, wiser brothers of The 3 O’Clock?

In fact, the mild psychedelic strains, fuzzed-out bass, mellotron-type keyboards, and faraway vocals hint at roots that reach back to The Zombies even. The lyrics do nothing to discourage the comparisons to those past times, what with talk of “spiders in the brain,” “paranoid Polaroids,” and explicit references to Pink Floyd. It’s all done tastefully, though, without any cheap or gimmicky tricks. “Write the End First” might have gone for a cheap, bluesy, roadhouse kind of jam but instead it messes with the beat and throws out some near-anthemic choruses that go against your expectations. “Don’t Go Too Far” has a Beatlesy “Tomorrow Never Knows” formula to it without seeming like a rip-off.

Jeepster has a winning sincerity about its music that you can sense immediately. It’s like The Apes in terms of its appropriation of a musical style from the past with an application of nuance here and there that takes you back to the present (for one thing, the recording quality). It might not be time to get out the lava lamps, but give Jeepster an album or so of growth and you might not be able to fight it.

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