FAO#31: Mark Fry / The A. Lords, Meg Baird, Jeffrey Lewis and Savaging Spires

Although much is made of the egalitarianism and creative freedom bequeathed on the musical landscape by punk, it could be argued that folk music has been much more liberating and far-reaching for artists the world above. Whether it comes from its timeless flexibility or the crude fact that electricity isn’t always required to sow the initial kernels of compositions, folk music has and always will continue to recycle and rejuvenate itself in many different forms, regardless of fashion. The below clutch of releases certainly represent multiple tributaries that folk idioms continue to flow through.

Mark Fry / The A. Lords – I Lived In Trees (Second Language, CD + bonus 3”CD)

This is something of a coup for aficionados of vintage acid-folk within the ranks of the Second Language label and its burgeoning following. Author of yet another recently reissued and previously lost cult ruralised treasure, namely 1972’s Dreaming With Alice, Mark Fry has been coaxed into collaboration with members of the younger wider 2L label family (namely Mike Tanner and Nick Palmer, trading collectively as The A. Lords) for only his third album in 39 or so years.

Those familiar with the frazzled rhythmic Tyrannosaurus Rex-meets-Incredible String Band strains of Alice (or even 2008’s more straightforwardly singer-songwriter shaped Shooting The Moon) are likely to be less instantly hooked here, but that’s not to say that I Lived In Trees is a disappointment by any means. In fact, this could be Fry’s most bewitching – if most slow-burning – set yet.  Unfurling exquisitely bucolic and nostalgic songs through his gentle and slightly plummy tones, Fry intriguingly – and probably unintentionally – recalls the often forgotten pastoral nooks hidden deeply inside Pink Floyd albums like Atom Heart Mother and Meddle. Meanwhile, Tanner and Palmer (along with other guests) paint detailed but uncluttered backdrops with acoustic guitars, harps, flutes, recorders, piano, harmonium, strings and almost every unplugged instrument available in-between.  Although the album moves at a somewhat glacial pace, its warmth and stillness creates a calming space that takes in folk-refracted and subtle rays of neo-classical chamber-music, medievalism, Hispanic cinema scores and ambient moodscapes. Whilst it might not command the retro-fried hipness of Mark Fry’s earliest works, the intimate and brave sophistication of I Lived In Trees should eventually be remembered with equal fondness and respect.

Second Language Podcast No.11 (featuring extracts from I Lived In Trees)

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Meg Baird – Seasons On Earth (Drag City/Wichita Recordings, CD/vinyl/digital)

As a captivating lead vocalist in Philadelphian psychedelic-folk outfit Espers, Meg Baird has often been overly-submerged by her parent group’s murky FX-pedal stewing. With 2007’s solo debut Dear Companion, Baird tentatively and impressively peeled back her bandmates’ lysergic density in favour of sparse acoustic settings that let her elegant voice roam free. Perhaps the only noticeable disappointment of the album was the heavy reliance on obscure covers and traditionals, leaving Baird’s own songwriting muse overshadowed and untested. For this belated sequel, Baird has tipped the balance in the other direction, so that non-originals account for only two of the ten tracks.  Moreover, musically Seasons On Earth is a little less stripped-down, with her voice and acoustic guitar overlaid by plaintive pedal steel, occasional percussion and more gauzy studio treatments.

Yet despite such changes, the album is no massive leap outwards, as it still seals Baird in a melancholic introspective bubble, perhaps even more claustrophobically. Though of course, there is much beauty in sadness and perhaps the deepest depths of Seasons On Earth leave the biggest impressions. Certainly, the seven or so minutes of the serene “Stars Climb Up the Vine” provide the album with a crowning centrepiece, which ripples through the same waters as Vashti Bunyan, Linda Perhacs, Sandy Denny and – interestingly – This Mortal Coil. So stunning is the song, that the remainder of the album can’t quite compete with its spectral presence. However, other pieces do come close enough.  Hence, the yearning and more open “Babyon” makes for an inviting opener; the desolate “Share” uncoils itself with a Low-like elegance; and the relatively raucous “Stream” unbottles the record’s inner tension with spine-tingling edginess. The two covers – of the Marc-Almond Band’s “Friends” and The House Of Love’s “Beatles And The Stones” – also work well within the overall context of the LP, by providing a little more light without glaring out the shade. Overall, Seasons On Earth is not an easy listen and those with a need for instant gratification might feel locked-out. However, for anyone in need of a place to hide from the outside world, Seasons On Earth is a welcoming place of sanctuary.

Meg Baird – “The Finder”

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Jeffrey Lewis – A Turn In The Dream Songs (Rough Trade Records, CD/vinyl/digital)

Practically the only one left standing from the short-lived ‘anti-folk’ scene of the early-2000s, comic book artist Jeffrey Lewis has survived by repeated reinvention. So much so, that he now owes more to Jonathan Richman and Stephen Malkmus than say early-Bob Dylan or Nick Drake. Having reached something of creative peak with 2007’s imaginative 12 Crass Songs covers collection, Lewis now has greater challenges in keeping his own artistry from sliding backwards. He comfortably kept himself in the game with 2009’s more electrified and more personalised ‘Em Are I and this freshly-cut follow-up captures Lewis working hard to sustain his balancing of the ridiculous and the sublime.

Musically, it’s more of a side-step into largely unplugged rootsy terrain, which works well for the record’s strong first half. Hence, the introductory “To Go And Return” shimmies in daintily with chiming mandolin, jazzy drums and woozy saxophone; the ensuing “How Can It Be” blends a Violent Femmes stomp with ramshackle doo-wop like backing vocals; the gorgeous lightly shuffling “I Got Lost” is wonderfully world-weary; the wobbly wordless “Boom Tube” provides a strangely soothing synth interlude; the uplifting “Time Trades” is just the right side of twee; and the bitter but self-deprecating “Cult Boyfriend” provides an anthem for indie-geeks across the globe. Thereafter, the album dips in quality and loses momentum with Lewis’s self-knowingness and adenoidal tones becoming more grating. Thus, the plodding, over-long “Krongu Green Slime” feels an in-joke worn thin, “So What If I Couldn’t Take It” meanders into directionless irritation and “Reaching” just sounds like an unfinished demo. If it weren’t for the dreamy tumble of “Water Leaking, Water Moving”, and the hilarious lo-fi hip-hop pastiche of “Mosquito Rap,” A Turn In The Dream Songs could just have stopped halfway-in as a fine mini-album. That all said, there’s no doubt that Jeffrey Lewis still has enough capacity to remind us of his powers of regeneration.  Until then, A Turn In The Dream Songs is best heard as a fans-only affair.

Savaging Spires – Bending The Rules Of Time EP (The Great Pop Supplement, 7”)

It’s somewhat amusing to read this writer’s recent review of Savaging Spires’ eponymous debut album seemingly paraphrased back to him in the accompanying publicity blurb for this follow-up 7”. But then at least it suggests that the still secretive band might have acknowledged their speculated-upon influences. The three tracks here on this highly-limited EP (two from said album and one new cut) further magnify the ensemble’s diligent distillation of past acid-psychedelic-prog folk master works into something both meticulously authentic and magnificently fresh.

The A-side’s two album extracts therefore represent the band’s broadly split-affection for lopsided dark hippie sing-alongs (“Bending The Rules Of Time”) and utterly mesmerising warped filmic soundscapes (“When The Devil Says He’s Dead”). But the real merit of purchasing this slice of white vinyl comes through the previously unreleased flipside piece, “The Book Of The Dead”; an arcane spaced-out madrigal spread across six and a half blissful minutes. If there are more such offcuts lingering in the Savaging Spires’ no doubt cobwebbed woodshed, then the next album could be even more impressive.

Mekons – Ancient & Modern, 1911-2011

Obviously I’m not the most impartial reviewer on this one – but I think this is a great record. Ancient & Modern is approximately the 26th record that The Mekons have made (it depends what you’re counting as to whether that’s accurate). It is imaginative and rich work, with the thematic coherence and musical eclecticism of some of their best LPs. For comparison, I’d say that it sits next to Journey to the end of the night, or Curse of the Mekons, and that it holds its own well. Like these earlier LPs, Ancient & Modern is a ‘grower’ – the mood is dark, and the tone is wry. The songs are dense and cleverly-constructed, and given a bit of attention, their wit and melodies will worm their way into your awareness until you don’t feel like listening to very much else. The ambitious title track is a perfect example of this – it gets better with every play.

Interestingly, there are a few lukewarm reviews around, whose authors seem to have been thrown by the ‘Britishness’ of the whole thing. There’s a nice piece of discursive analysis to be done (by someone with more spare time on their hands than me…), examining the reactions that have been provoked by the band’s positioning of themselves and their project on this record. Conceptually, Ancient & Modern draws a historical parallel between the autumns of 1911 and 2011. The sense of impending disaster and anticipated regret is unsettling. For some, the idea that history is not, after all, dead, seems to be even more destabilising. For others, the challenge of seeing history from a British perspective has clearly rendered the record a little too opaque and mysterious. But rock records are not puzzles which can’t be enjoyed without being ‘solved. ’ The historical allusion is there. We can adopt it, or not. The songs will do what they do.

And what they do is more lamenting than lambasting. Apparently, this LP was largely recorded in a rented country cottage, rather than a studio, and even with some raucous additions overdubbed later on, the sense of containment is palpable. This actually works really well. It lends intimacy to the delicate moments in “I Fall Asleep” and “Warm Summer Sun”, but there is also a sense of suppression on songs like” Space in Your Face” or “Honey Bear”, which on other Mekons records might have been allowed to really let rip. The protagonists in these songs look back in time, and see the folly of their youth. A band holding back a little – respecting the sensitivities of the situation – suits that scenario perfectly. The record isn’t perfect – I could do without the unnecessary outro to “I Fall Asleep”, when the song itself has done its job so elegantly. But it is a rewarding and consoling thing of beauty.

Interestingly, decadence isn’t a big part of this record. The slinky, chanson-style of “Geeshie” is the only real musical echo of that (and fans of the Triffids’ flawed classic, The Black Swan may well feel that they’re meeting a long lost friend in its lilting melody). There are a few lyrical teases (‘a glimpse of flesh’), but it’s all very discreet. The Mekons can certainly do decadence, and it is certainly a feature of the period that they’re visiting, so one would have to guess that their restraint is a conscious decision. I think this makes Ancient & Modern feel like one of their more sombre records.

Despite that, the best thing that I’ve ever heard anyone say about them applies to this record, too. In the forthcoming documentary film, Revenge of the Mekons, the novelist Jonathan Franzen says this:

‘If you feel like the inheritor of a very embattled critical stance, while the rest of the world is going over to the dark side, they’re the band for you. And I say that not because they give you hope of ever winning the battle, [but because] they teach you to be gracious and amusing losers.’

Bloodshot Records

Echidna – Dawn Of The Sociopath

Returning with their second album, Portuguese thrash/death metalers Echidna have unleashed a dangerous and compelling beast that is as intimidating and intrusive as the running theme behind it. Dawn Of The Sociopath is a concept album exploring the devious mind and black evil of a sociopath, each track taking the listener on a transition from seed to result as inspired from a deeply disturbed and destructive mind. The album, the follow up to the band’s acclaimed 2008 debut Insidious Awakening, is also the first release with new vocalist Bruno Capela (ex-Breed Destruction singer), bringing as much vocal malignancy with his rasping growls as the album’s content.

The album took three years in the making, which is nothing new for a band that takes its time in making everything right, and at its greatest height before unveiling. Formed in 2001 in the city of Vila Nova de Gaia, Echidna took four years before taking to live stages and longer before a release; with the band focusing on finding  strong stability, certain direction, and the realisation of the complete sound they were looking for. March 2005 saw their first live aural attack unveiled and a following succession of numerous  gigs and strong acclaim. In January 2007 the self funded debut release, the 6 track demo Tearing The Cloth. Promotion and more continued hard work led the band towards recording their debut album and, again with deliberate intent to make it the best they could, Insidious Awakening was finally released June 2009 via Portuguese label Rastilho Records. As before, vast enthusiasm and acclaim followed in its wake, leading to eager anticipation for its successor Dawn Of The Sociopath.

Again released via Rastilho Records the new album is a steady and riveting follow up, taking the band’s levels beyond their debut with a definite further maturity in sound and songwriting. Within an avalanche of tumbling riffs and chest beating rhythms all coated in venomous intent, the band veins the songs with incisive and probing, melodic, razor sharp guitars that cut through the senses with surgical precision and consummate ease. Infused with the hell spawned vocals of Capela, the result is an uncompromising and extremely satisfying assault on the senses that is as malicious as the lyrical content and concept it portrays.

The songs within Dawn Of The Sociopath rampage against and into the ear and beyond from the opening full track “The Antagonist”, with its threatening riffs and scorching energy, right through to the closing conclusion of “The Fallout”, the song a complete and rounded end to the journey within the album.

The rhythms and predatory riffs and beats from bassist Miguel Pinto and drummer Tiago Cardoso stalk and pounce viciously and relentlessly throughout the album, but especially hit hard and with devastating effect on, again, “The Antagonist”. Plus the rabid and intense “Bloodlust”, and the album’s best track “Commanded by Demons”. The last of these three is a tumultuous blend of aggression and overwhelming power neatly ruptured with veins of honed and cutting guitars surrounding an attention grabbing solo; both David Doutel and Pedro Lima stretching and fuelling the song and album on the whole, with great engaging play and melodies. The two guitarists also underline most songs with fine and irresistible grooves that beckon through the pauses and waves of black sounds. “Violent Compulsion” and the impressively expressive “Obscuring My Reason” especially inciting the ear and senses with a captivating groove beckoning beyond the wall of spiteful and virulent sound.

Dawn Of The Sociopath is a fine album, showing and continuing the rise of Echidna beyond their homeland. Admittedly the album does have a sameness of tone and attack running through it, but the release is still stronger than many rivals this year. Maybe not essential listening but certainly the release and band are ones that should be checked out sooner rather than later.

7″ Single from Parish of Little Clifton out on Bad Panda

The Parish of Little Clifton, 19 y.o. from Canada, started as acoustic folk project, turned on electronic-based music, trying to keep the organic elements of real instruments by using samples. He previously release an EP on Cultus Vibes (Teen Daze’s label) and Septembersh 7” is a taste of the LP (Portia) that will be released this fall and will feature Teen Daze, Manitoulin (HAHA) and Bank Heist.  Dreamy balearic sound lovers (Air France-Southern Shores&friends), don’t miss it.

Giant Sand – Chore Of Enchantment (reissue)

As one of the most aptly-named albums in Giant Sand’s vast discography, 2000’s Chore Of Enchantment is a testament to forging magic out of adversity.  Widely-regarded as one of the best – if not the best – in the group’s sprawling canon, Chore is a kaleidoscopic collection, like R.E.M.’s Automatic For The People, against which everything before and after it will forever – rightly or wrongly – be measured against.

Recorded in the wake of tragedy (the death of Howe Gelb’s desert-bluesman soul mate Rainer Ptacek), against extracurricular distractions (with Joey Burns and John Convertino’s Calexico side-project becoming a more successful standalone proposition), under label pressures (from V2 Records, which eventually declined to release the album on completion) and with three different producers in three different cities (John Parish in Tucson, Jim Dickinson in Memphis and Kevin Salem in New York), it’s ultimately an achievement that the now-reissued Chore actually reached the finish line, let alone become one of Giant Sand’s most defining and remarkably cohesive releases  It’s an even greater feat that in the face of such fragmented and fraught construction that the record is blessed with such life-affirming humanity, humour, romance and rejuvenation.

Richly eclectic yet grounded within the bedrock of a strong suite of songs, Chore documents Gelb having his cake and eating it.  Whilst losing only a little of his uncompromising eccentricity, the LP solidifies his muse into scholarly mature shapes.  On the more wayward side, the album throws its curveballs with rambunctious flair but also well-measured finesse.  Hence, the gloriously gooey swamp-funk of “Temptation Of Egg” (with Juliana Hatfield’s honey-combed tones spread into its grooves) skilfully salutes Beck’s Odelay; the one minute or so screeching sludge of “1972” makes a fleeting nod to The Stooges; the careering “Satellite” twists The Crazy Horse riffage of 1994’s Glum into a mercurial epic statement; and the percussive loop splendour of “Wolfy” prowls with playfully imaginative studio trickery.

However, whilst such sonic experiments help give Chore the diversity needed to justify its original 16-track largesse, the real heart of the affair lies with the slew of heartfelt ballads and slow-motion meditations, which have their own range of stylistic stretching too. Thus, the spine-tingling “Shiver” glides with cosmic country-rock motions; the blissfully atmospheric “Astonished (In Memphis)” sways with moist gospel-slanted sensuality; the goose-bump inducing intimacies of “Dirty From The Rain” and “Raw” capture late-night ruminations with unpretentious grace; and the jazz-tinged barroom philosophising of “Bottom Line Man” and “Way To End The Day” plug into redemption with curling uplifting wordplay.

Regardless of individual moods and settings, throughout proceedings Chore is blessed with some of Gelb’s richest songwriting, with divine lyrical details that peel back layer-upon-layer without some of the fog and surrealism that has often kept listeners at a greater distance.  Perhaps the only real criticism raised about Chore, that should only be given some modest consideration, comes via assessment of the higher-end production values of Kevin Salem – who even drafted in session musicians – that give the record a level of polish slightly out of spirit with Giant Sand’s organic methodology.  The key addition to this new reissue of the contemporary tour-CD – The Rock Opera Years – goes some way to imagining what Chore could have become if John Parish had manned the desk for all the proceedings as well as justifying Salem’s final cut of Chore.  Amongst its 13 richly-picked yet more ragged tracks resides four Chore pieces in looser form (including a fantastic Francophile-scented alternate “Astonished”), the murky unused “Chore Of Enchantment” itself; the rocking music industry satire of “Rock Opera,” reworked older Giant Sand and Gelb solo songs and a sublime guest-adorned cover of Neil Young’s “Music Arcade” (featuring Victoria Williams and Evan Dando). All in all, The Rock Opera Years presents a complementary extension but not a replacement for Chore.  Those with the time and tenacity could probably merge both discs and whittle things down to one re-sequenced, less varnished and perhaps more holistically representative selection, but it’s better to just play both collections back-to-back to celebrate one of Giant Sand’s most fertile and unrepeatable phases.

In short, if you’re only considering buying a couple of Giant Sand reissues in this current repackaging splurge, be sure as hell to include this bounteous bundle on your shopping list.  You have nothing to lose but nearly two hours buried in an avalanche of riches.

Fire Records

Das Racist – Relax

Part of the sizzle that made Das Racist last year’s favorite new hip-hop act was their undeniable ability at being true wordsmiths. Sure, there was heaps and heaps of frenetic vigor on their two respective ’10 mixtapes, Shut Up, Dude and Sit Down, Man, but beneath the attraction of two playful MCs and a production line that scattered from electronic to grimy dubstep to b-boy delectable chants galore, Das Racist prevailed on their magnificent skill as emcees. Never the kind to slack quality for quantity, the Brooklyn-based group filled every single corner with prolific gems that enabled their mixtapes the longevity and more over, substance, to become critical darlings.

Through the near forty songs they released last year, they came away with a modest fourteen for their debut LP, Relax. While not everything is entirely new, Das Racist takes the strengths off their mixtapes and simply take them on a new adventure with Relax. As if they’re speaking to the listener once again, they ask us to take a seat, calm down and enjoy the new sounds they’ve embarked on. From the outset it’s clear that the rappers’ verses have been obviously enlarged and now, they consist of layered stories that turn into true song structures. The opening title track serves as juxtaposition between vocal cadences and horn stabs, and the bumping bass that surrounds it. By the time the emcees have left the scene all that is left is a laughing synthesizer as it rides against the left-over bass.

Most of the same flash that made their mixtapes such quick loves is still all over the spectrum on Relax. It’s not so much that the sounds are tempered in a way but Das Racist take the LP form to a professional manner with focused, lean, tight songs that showcase their talents with amazing standards. So if people came to expect the wiry, intertwined tension of a frantic mixtape, Relax isn’t the place for you. However, the group doesn’t take away any quality from their compositions and instead, shine in light of it all. “Girl” glistens with sparkling production and the music is definitely ready for a poppier affair but the styles converse for a greater resurface of multi-faceted deliveries. While it might be at first something too dissimilar, the idiosyncratic references each MC makes are undoubtedly great.

And in terrific fashion, the group outdoes themselves by following the aforementioned luster with “Shut Up, Man” and its booming, dark overtones. Featuring El-P, every verse grows with more and more creativity and flow, before the towering beats have taken over. But whether it’s the inclusion of something proudly developed from last year like “Rainbow in the Dark,” and the sheer manner it is sequenced in, or the wild traverse of “Middle of the Cake,” Das Racist continue to present their best ideas forward. Ultimately music as enjoyable as this shouldn’t be dissected with such a skewed eye but when the depth is filled with abundant ideas around then it’s definitely possible. Either way, Das Racist won’t be conforming to anyone’s wishes any time soon and really, we shouldn’t have it any other way.

Greedhead

The serpent and the shadow – Film by Jeff Martin

As a post-script to my recent review of Idaho’s You were a dick, I’d recommend devoting a few minutes of your time to the short film, ‘The Serpent and the Shadow,’ which comes with it, and which is now available on the internet. It’s written and directed by Idaho’s Jeff Martin, with beautiful cinematography by Kristina Schulte-Eversum. I’ve returned to it a dozen times since first watching it last week. There’s something very unsettling about the combination of the sparse soundscape and enigmatic narrative. It’s strangely compelling.

Martin and his collaborators seem to have been reading some interesting things (perhaps Carl Jung, or the Tibetan book of the Dead?) because the story is littered with symbolism about possessions, technology, burden, and the duality of the self. The film opens as a man (played by Martin himself) drives a vintage Alfa Romeo around Los Angeles. His purpose and destination are unknown, but he is accompanied by some literal and figurative baggage on the passenger seat. He stops at a coffee shop, staring at the bag across the table. Schulte-Eversum gives us two uncanny glimpses of the bag – which may or may not move, its hard to discern. The effect is created, I think, by the eliding of the top of the bag with the back of a customer’s head. This sounds banal, but the effect is rather creepy.

Martin returns to the car – passing another man clutching an identical bag – and begins to drive once more around the city. It is now infused with golden light, and beginning to look eerily de-populated. The car radio signal fizzles out, the way ahead is a blocked by a series of dead-ends, and then the car itself appears to die. Martin departs on foot, paper bag clutched tightly. Though a montage of shots we see Martin traversing the cityscape, looking increasingly uncertain of his purpose. Soon the bag droops in his grasp.

Events take over. Martin is hit by a van, and helped aboard by the driver. As he recovers his senses, he realises that the driver has appropriated his watch. A struggle for the bag ensues. The outcome is unclear: the van heads into darkness; there is an argument, a moment of stillness – and then Martin’s character emerges from a tunnel, into early evening light. The bag appears to have gone. Martin looks at the camera and Schulte-Eversum provides the closest thing to a visual ‘twist’ that I’ve ever seen in such an impressionistic, elusive film. It takes the form of a fleeting shot of an ambiguous grin. The image is cut to blackness, right on the cusp of its taking shape. The indeterminate smile is the source of the film’s compelling qualities: has he been robbed? Is he relieved and unburdened? Or has he just pulled an elaborate trick on the van driver? Back to the start, and the snake is eating its own tail …

The Serpent and the Shadow from jeffrey martin on Vimeo.

New Album from The Cortege out soon

The Cortègeis the closing installment to two decades of remarkable albums and riveting live performances from To Live and Shave in L.A. The core trio of Ben Wolcott, Rat Bastard and Tom Smith has led this collective of legendary music-makers since the early 1990’s when they crossed paths in the early Miami Beach punk/noise/experimental scene.

The TLASILA collective for The Cortège includes Ben Wolcott (oscillator and treatments), Rat Bastard (violin), Tom Smith (lead vocals), Misty Martinez (lead vocal on “Flattering Circles of Hell,” backing vocals, saxophone), Andrew W.K. (backing vocals), Nondor Nevai (backing vocals), Cherie Lily (backing vocals), Mark Morgan (guitar), Chris Grier (guitar), Don Fleming (guitar), Dimthingshine (percussion and voice), Mark Shellhaas (percussion), Kelly Jamison (percussion), Graham Moore (synth modules), Gaybomb (magnetic card readers), Patrick Spurlock (electronics).

“TLASILA are what punk bands always proposed but never lived up to.” – Thurston Moore, 2011

instantmayhem.com / fandeathrecords.com / www.thicksyruprecords.net

Civil Civic – Rules

Not so very long ago, a new phrase started to appear in the music press, one that represented the resurgence of post-rave dance music specifically in London although it soon caught on as a genre specific description for the fast, tuneful and indeed danceable electronica that was emanating from the ultra hip basement clubs of those parts of the UKs capital whose postcodes start with the letter E and while the scene it sprang from has moved on apace since its initial heyday, bands like Civil Civic are continuing to push the boundaries of the sound, and making some fantastic and innovative music while they’re about it.

Calling their album Rules seems like something of a misomner, as in Civil Civic’s musical spectrum there aren’t actually very many of these. Surf guitars, metallic bass lines, crashing synths and evocative pop melodies collide in near overwhelming combinations, all instrumental and relentlessly energetic. Starting with “Airspray”, Civil Civic are making an anthemic, scuzzed up and very memorable bid for greatness, generating tones and rhythms that can hold their own alongside the likes of MGMT, The Chemical Brothers, Fatboy Slim and just about anyone I’ve ever heard producing this sort of electronica. “Street Trap” is a ferocious 140 bpm speed grind lifted by dazzling keyboard and guitar riffs. “Grey Nurse” (named, I’m supposing, after the shark) builds around its noirish surf guitar beginnings with a spiralling keyboard riff. “Sky Dream” most obviously references MGMT, with added power guitar and a tune that veers off into an extended improvisation that’s a trademark of Civil Civics sound and what makes Rules a consistently challenging listen. Not content with setting the sequencers to ‘repeat’ and instead developing their instrumentation to its limits, Civil Civic retain their melodic focus throughout and, combined with the radio friendly track length this makes for some near breathtaking displays of spaced-out warp speed electropunk.

What holds Rules together is the idea that, for all the competing and occasionally conflicting elements that go into it, the end result is a pop record, mainstream accessible and which could adapt itself to any format, not just the club scene that Civil Civic originate from. And while I’ve spent several hours deconstructing the music and identifying the actual sounds and influences which make it up, Rules doesn’t actually need listened to in overly critical depth. It’s fast, loud, tuneful and innovative, a soundtrack for the summer of 2012 as well as the skilfully constructed electronic composition it actually is.

watch the video for Airspray
www.myspace.com/civilcivic

Mild Mannered – Believeland

In the annals of rock and roll history, no band has thought to call themselves Mild Mannered. Think about that for a minute. It used to be that rock and roll was all about being the biggest and the best.  However, since the alt revolution of the mid 80′s, being underwhelming has been something to be.  On their debut, Believeland, Mild Mannered sound anything but, with a sound rooted in 90′s alt rock at its most bombastic.And believe me, there is good and bad in that statement.

Opener “Back Home” does exactly what an opener should: it grabs your attention. With it’s repetitive riff, and Jennifer Casa’s soaring vocals, the song wins with its moxy. “The Demand” is charmless though, with its scratchy guitars and Garbage recalling synth line in the chorus. “Keys to San Rio” is an acoustic based ditty, with an odd melody in the chorus that never seems to go anywhere.  “Applehead”, though, is a winner, with its charming little piano line and a simply hummable melody.  “Me” is reminiscent of Catherine Wheel in its guitars and melody. And I say that as a true compliment. “Satisfaction” sounds like it should have soundtracked a Freinds-esque sitcom in the 90′s, all charming guitar lead in the beginning, but again the band never builds on that winning idea.

“The Ones Who Got Away” is a piano based song of regret that wins on its multi-layered vocals and simplicity. “Wonder” is similar to a bad Hole song, that tries really hard to rawk, but doesn’t. “Did You Ever” is better with its rumbling riff, and loud-quiet-loud structure. If only the rest of the album was like this. Closer “Eclipse” is dark and synth laden and makes perfect sense, since it sounds like nothing else on the album.

And that’s how Believeland is throughout. There is clearly talent here, no doubt. But some songs seem half formed, while others are truly special. Some songs seem semi-serious, others ponderous. This being a debut album, I give Mild Mannered the benefit of the doubt, and believe there are better things to come.

 

Self Released

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