I Should Have Said Something Sooner — CD Review By Mark H.

Dateless

Everything Could Turn Out Right This Time

Self Released (CD) Insubordination Records (Digital)

It’s ironic that while the North East and California have always flooded our basements with pop punk bands, the typically rainy North West is a veritable desert in the pure pop punk scene, with only an oasis here and there to wet our whistle. The four-piece Dateless, from Seatlle, WA offer us traditional simple-chord, harmony-soaked pop punk that’s a far cry from stepping over any creative boundary lines, but at the same time seem to draw from a multitude of influences within the genre, enough so that any hardcore fan will have fun picking up on them and rocking out to the tunes.

The Dateless sound falls within familiar bounds, that being the pop punk Neapolitan ice cream box of the Ramones, oldies, and Lookout-era Green Day. There’s also a hint of Dirt Bike Annie in here, partly due to song structure, and also the male/female vocal dynamic provided by Chris Crusher and Le-Vy. (Later on, my theory gets some solid evidence to stand on, as the band covers DBA’s “Capable Of Anything”). It’s possible that Sicko and other golden-era Mutant Pop bands have an influence on the group, but it’s also possible that my ears and brain are trying to connect the dots geographically rather than aurally.

“Worst Year” and “Mess” are great bouncy cuts, while “Janel” wins the award for most typical pop-punk lyrics, “i think you’re so hot / i want you to know girl / i like you a lot” – yikes! But, also typically, the chorus is really catchy, has awesome handclaps, and the pre-chorus part sounds deliciously like old school MTX! “Pointless Daydreams” starts acoustically and highlights Le-vy as a vocalist and along with other Le-vy heavy songs (“I Had To Quit” and “No More”) brings the Chubbies to mind.

“Body Heat” is just a great fast blast of poppy punk and one of the album highlights, and “Face The Facts” is another welcome sugar rush. Sprinkled amongst these tracks though are others that push past the 3 minute mark and take a the momentum down a notch. The songs are all decent, but I suppose my thoughts on the sequencing is that you have to eat your vegetables too if you want dessert.

more linkage: Dateless on Myspace

I Should Have Said Something Sooner — CD Review by Mark H.

Never Enough Hope

The Gift Economy

Contraphonic Records

If I may digress right out of the gate – I think 20-piece ensemble Never Enough Hope should play a festival show with the Polyphonic Spree, Akron Family, and Dark Meat, in an attempt to create a well-attended show where the performers still outnumbered the audience. Improviser/composer Tobin Summerfield put together this group in Chicago as some sort of jazz/post-rock/freestyle/big band super group, and the result was The Gift Economy.

The sounds here loosely fall in the experimental jazz camp, and while mention of the genre usually evokes a sense of dread in me, this stuff is rather enjoyable. Lead cut “The Banner” gives us hypnotic rhythms, layers of strings and horns that poke their heads in and out, and near the end it rocks out well enough to push the idea of regular “modern jazz” out the window. “Des Moines” feels like it’s moving, but evidently it takes you nowhere – a musical traffic circle perhaps? “Two Ghosts At The Table” however rolls along pretty smoothly. The ghosts are seated doing their ghostly thing, and over the duration of the 7 minute song, the sounds flow from Casper to Poltergeist. The foundation of “Grant Park” starts off with a funky bassline, then juts into a horn workout, and then over to another trance-like guitar hook. It’s like a baton being passed at a relay race. “The Light Tilts Out” may very well be the most boisterous song here, almost overloaded with instrumental chaos, but oddly the disc ends with a wonderful traditional pop song (with vocals even!) that’s almost nail-biting the first time through, as the listener wonders “When is the music going to start freaking out? Now? …Now?” I held my breath at a few spots but it never came.

It’s interesting to note that there are at least two of everything in Never Enough Hope – violin, trumpet, sax, guitar, even two drum sets and vibraphones! The Noah’s Ark of free music! The Gift Economy sounds expertly orchestrated, but at the same time there’s always another trumpet near by to burst out freely, a sax bleat to punctuate the jam, or some extra percussion to bash away while the rhythm holds on tight. It’s this blend of calculated vs. pell mell that make the album unique. Elevator muzak this ain’t.

I Should Have Said Something Sooner — CD Review by Mark H.

Hunchback

Pray For Scars

Don Giovanni Records

Some bands just make music, others create art. Whether either endeavor is successful or not I suppose depends on the listener, but myself having listened to ass upon ass upon assloads of albums, I can tell you there’s a lot of rock bands that make great music but suck at executing it as an art form, and there’s a lot of artists who make interesting pieces of audio-art but ultimately fail at making enjoyable music. Follow?

When Hunchback first melted my face off in some dude’s basement a few years ago I knew I was listening to something special. Spirits of loud, screamy, writhing noise from musical genres across the map channeled themselves through four punks from New jersey. It was creepy and weird, but not once did I feel uncomfortable. It was horror-surf-punk with a helping of Mudhoney and a heaping of Killdozer, but not once did I think it was as trite or as tacky as it now sounds on paper. The sound, content, and delivery of Pray For Scars offers a real, honest exploration into morbidity. Hunchback create an atmosphere that backs up the music – you don’t just hear it, you feel it.

The album overall doesn’t fit particularly well into any one peg hole, so while the eight-plus minute album opener “The Bells, The Bells” isn’t a proper introduction, it is indicative of the Hunchback “sound/art.” The bass rumbles, the synth alternates between old horror movie “dun dun dunnn!” riffs and being just plain eerie, the layers of guitar fuzz envelop you like fog, and possibly most impressive of all – the vocals sound like Mike Hunchback went into a cave, stuck his head in a garbage can, and sang into a mic covered with insects – and it works! I’m telling you it fucking works, man! Unbelievable!

“All That Fear Allows” puts you firmly amidst the chaos in fine fashion – some kind of bizzaro carnival music intro, manic singing, tempo shifts, and then pulling back, pulling the listener in… is he talking about blood dripping? Then the sledgehammer drops and the bell screams and the dreadful, joyful noise erupts once again. The title track is a full force bash and the “The Doctor” is a like a hardcore song, but twisted and turned by an angular post-punk guitar line, and then further demented by some sick sick lyrics.

The A-side ends with Miranda Hunchback bringing in some cool indie femme pop/rock and the B-side begins with this album’s creep-out sing-along, “A Year And Day.” This unique event first occurred on Hunchback’s previous album with the track “Last Man On Earth.” It’s all so very desolate and apocalyptic, but all the while so very damn catchy you can’t help but chime in on the chorus.

“The Ugliest Angel” brings in the acoustic guitars, but the sound is no less cavernous and the layers of echoes and whispers no less intriguing. “You Have A Light” can swim in Sonic Youth territory for lack of a better place to float, and the guitar work is odd and ear captivating enough to almost forgive the drowned vocals. “Worse Houses” fucks things up a notch, and since we’re near the end of the album, you better believe it’s a free-for-all of multi-screams, heaps of guitar scuzz, and a blanket of synth churning underneath a gut-upsetting story. The album closes with a cover of Linda Perry’s “Beautiful” featuring guest vocals by Killdozer’s Michael Gerald and some other weirdos. I’m debating whether or not to indulge in a digression of whether or not the inclusion of this song is meant to be ironic, post-ironic, or even pre-ironic, but in the end I’m just giving up. My tour through the catacombs was dark, enlightening, and altogether draining. I’ll probably spin this tomorrow though.

more linkage:
Hunchback on Myspace

You Said It Was A Good Size! — 7″ Review by Mark H.

The Steinways

Unoriginal Recipe

It’s Alive Records

I’d say something like “The Steinways are back!” but the truth is they never left us. Lead singer/guitarist Grath Madden is so prolific we’re never short of new material, and thankfully the band does not sacrifice quality for quantity. Songs like the Dirt Bike Annie-esque “I Shit (You Not)” and the epic (read as: almost 2 minutes long!) “Main Street USA” continue the now familiar horny teenager spazzing out theme, but while the music used to be sock-hop-on-amphetamines the band has now added a bit more spike to the punch this time around, rocking out in a fashion that eschews the typical 3-chord pattern and transcends the bands previous work in oldiescore territory.

“Good Morning Sunshine” starts off with an average pop punk riff, but the chorus opens a window and the song flies up and away into pure pop territory; a guitar lead bounces us to a bridge, and in the end we’re all chanting “wake the fuck up!” like the stifled beginning of the song never happened. The layered vocals on “Twenty Year Old Virgin” are terrific – the band does indeed have 3 singers – it would be wise to use them all (or at least bring them up in the mix) more often. The slab ends with a stab at Portuguese pop punk with “Voce Tem Labios De Uma Galinha.” All seems well and good until you discover the band wanted even the Portuguese words to rhyme, which gives us some interesting translations in the lyrics – “I had sex with the neighbor / you have lips like a chicken.” See? A song doesn’t have to be short to be funny!

More linkage – The Steinways on Myspace

I Should Have Said Something Sooner — CD Review By Mark

Lemuria

Get Better

Asian Man Records

When I listen to music with a critical ear, my mind always wanders away from who and what, drifting to the subject of when. How can I connect the dots from what I’ve heard before to what I’m hearing now? An album may have a 2008 release date, but from what era does the sound originate? Is it 60s pop? ’77 punk? 80s metal? For some unknown, illogical reason my brain equates chronology with credit. If it’s been done before, then bam – instant demerit. Lemuria has me rethinking my mindset. While many bands are followers, it is possible for a band to simply approach the musical time line on its own terms. This trio of friends from Buffalo, NY aren’t behind the times, they just took their time.

The sound of Get Better is firmly planted in the 90s alt-pop/rock section of the history books. Those were good times back then, when the lines of indie rock and power pop and punk roamed freely across the landscape, and bands with brains and talent found the intersection of those lines, usually for the better. Myself being a fan of said era, I’ve got the sudden urge to gush forth a zillion references. Aside from possibly being a soundtrack for My So Called Life (I’m sure the group wouldn’t mind sharing that credit with Madder Rose, Buffalo Tom, and the Lemonheads), my ears pluck other tidbits from the “alternative” decade: A riff here reminds me of the indie pop group Verbana, a riff there brings to mind Superchunk, the smart-punk tone reminds me of Jawbreaker and/or Discount. On some notes, drummer/singer Alex Kearns reminds me of a less croaky Brad Roberts (c’mon now, when is the last time you’ve heard the vocalist for the Crash Test Dummies mentioned in a review?!). Perhaps more impressive is the peg-dodging vocals of guitarist/singer Sheena Ozzella, whose voice ranges from sweet to powerful, but not once treads into twee or riot grrl territory.

The album leads off with the crowd favorite “Pants”, whose chorus comes at you as if running up a hill, measured and purposeful, if only just to traipse back down again. This even, tempered approach is maintained throughout Get Better, and makes for the unique case of being one of those rare albums that’s good at any volume. The guitar and bass are clean and exact, but never betray the album’s dim, introspective mood. The drums are driving but always staying within the speed limit. Even the songs finish in a “hold it!” fashion, stopping abruptly so as not to get carried away in a crescendo or fade away into irrelevance. “Lipstick” and “Hawaiian T-Shirt” have ridiculously slow but immaculately presented payoff (or more accurately, jackpot) choruses, the value of which increases exponentially depending on how many people are singing along. Another highlight is the double shot of “Length Away” and “Dog”, the latter of which showcases the band in a punkier setting, but also gives us Ozzella’s best vocal performance on record, maybe even one of the best I’ve heard from a femme-rocker in a great while (er, possibly not since the 1990s?!).

The album clocks in at 28 minutes, but with no duds in the bunch and plenty of repeatable hits, it’s a worthy investment. We’ve got a bona fide early contender here, folks.

More linkage: Lemuria on Myspace

I Should Have Said Something Sooner — CD Review By Mark

The Magnetic Fields

Distortion

Nonesuch

I never thought about it until recently, but the Mag Fields would make a great singles band. All these great little pop gems are perfect for the 7″ format. And yet, here I am doing a compact disc review. Just like when you become endeared to that special someone whose positive traits outweigh their idiosyncrasies, Stephin Merritt’s brand of heart bursting/breaking indie pop comes at you in full-length force, warts and all. Most fortunately, there are fewer blemishes on this release than there were on his last effort.

The album starts off with a (possibly kinky) instrumental called “Three Way”. It’s like The Champs’ “Tequila” but for the modern age. The rest of the disc has Merritt trading vocal duties with Claudia Gonson, whose angelic haze of a voice is a nice counterbalance to Merritt’s somber baritone. At first one might think that he was saving all the good melodies for her – “California Girls” and “Xavier Says” are wonderfully catchy tunes, while “Old Fools” and “Mr. Mistletoe” are too sad and/or sleepy to bounce. The two duet together on one of the disc’s best tracks though, “Please Stop Dancing”. Along with “Too Drunk To Dream”, I’m sure an uber-fan could find a way to squeeze them amongst the best tracks of 69 Love Songs for an unsuspecting listener. Near the end of the album we get the humorous “The Nuns Litany” and the slow, dreamy “Courtesans”, and it’s at this point that the listener says “It’s over? Already?”

When Merritt set out to make “3 minute pop songs” he wasn’t kidding. Every single song is no more than 20 seconds under and no more than 8 seconds over that traditional mark. The song format is a verse/chorus/verse style but when you’re sitting on those awesome melodies you don’t need to experiment. While the songwriting follows the basic formula, Distortion seeks new territory from an instrumental and production standpoint. While the vocals at times are light, there’s nothing “lite” about the music – fuzzy guitars blanket everything, with hints of drone and even feedback! No electro-pop to speak of, and there’s not one single jangle in earshot. Much like that special someone, Merritt lays it all on the table out of love and respect. When it comes to making love songs, the Magnetic Fields don’t play games.

First Impressions – Session # 2 by Mark

The Resistors

Damaged, Ugly, & Loud

Wow. It’s been a long time since I listened to punk rock like this. I’ve lost all points of reference so excuse me while I grasp at straws like MDC and other 80s bands that had abbreviated names. The guitars are old but reliable chainsaws, the riffs are familiar, and the vocals provide gruff, snarl, and the encouragement to chant and pump fists. The drums seem to be untouched – the snare hits actually sound like a snare, and I like that.

Even though some songs were penned as far back as 1982, this is the debut release for the Resistors. The fact that it’s a 100% D.I.Y. self-release is in and of itself commendable, but the perseverance shown here is downright amazing.

Let’s get down to business though: The Resistors make a few smart moves here, the most noticeable is the fact that the first two tracks are also the best on the album. “Andropov’s Assassins” is an energetic opener, with short jabs of rough punk vox barreling through call-and-reponse verses, with a crowd-rousing shout-along chorus. “Criminally Insane” is a wild, bouncy, “weirdpunk” (think Boris the Spinkler b-side) track. The sound itself matches the mentally damaged lyrics, and that’s pretty cool, I think.

After that though, the band rolls steadily downhill, with songs that are slightly above mediocre but unfortunately mid-tempo. A faster blast of noise would make “Boys Not Right” a great song, but instead it just kind of plods along. Wanky solos throughout the next string of songs takes the momentum back down to zilch. Oh well. A gang of old punks from Columbus, IN putting out a record is worthy of a thumbs up, but the music just isn’t registering on my charts. Final call: No year-end nod for the disc, but “You get on my nerves like a Green Day song” is easily one of the funniest lyrics I’ve heard all year.

I Should Have Said Something Sooner — CD Review By Mark

Joe Jitsu

The Perfect Life

Top 5 Records

This trio from Texas is doing all the right things. The best thing about The Perfect Life is it’s sound. Kye’s guitar sound has a superb kick, but it goes down smooth (insert alcoholic beverage reference that I’m not familiar with here). Charmin’ Charlie’s vocals are distinct but completely palatable due to their easy-tenor tone and perfect clarity, and the respectable smattering of backing harmonies doesn’t hurt either. All the pieces fit together like an immaculate patchwork quilt of pop, punk, and rock’n’roll. In addition to nailing the sound, the band also makes the indubitably correct decision in writing a new album, rather than re-hashing their previous album. Many bands can’t or won’t make that choice, so I applaud those that try and praise those that both try and succeed. Joe Jitsu’s self-titled debut was a great disc, blending Queers-core with some original power pop, and the Catastrophe EP was a unexpected bridge to somewhere different… but now the band has come into their own and walks the path of enlightenment! Wait, no. I mean, they put out a very, very enjoyable record.

“You Got Me Alone” and (what I’m dubbing the mega-smash of the album) “Now Or Never” set the basic template for the Joe Jitsu sound. These songs are like short, bouncy wads of pop playdough, squeezed so tightly in a fuzzy fist that punk rock just oozes out between the fingers. The tunes are altogether pleasant to the ear, some even reaching a sing-along level, but at the same time both the melodies and lyrics aren’t happy. Plenty of lost love and pining pop punk in this batch of songs. The melodies shine, but they aren’t “bright.” Usually one tries not to overthink it, but there’s definitely something intriguing about catchy songs of disheartedness and isolation. Of all the Beach Boys songs to choose from, they pick one of the sad ones (“Girl Don’t Tell Me”) to cover. It’s great, by the way.

The perfectly paced “Katrina Malone” and the overly long “Best Girl I’ll Ever Find” bring the tempo down a notch, and the acoustic ballad “I’ve Seen Everything” is the back-porch pop that I’d like to see a lot more of. “Harmful” brings back the pep/pepper spray, while the album ends on a highlight – “Back To Me” is an awesome nugget of pop punk reminiscent of Dookie-era Green Day, and the message is an appropriate one for listeners who get hooked on Joe Jistu – “I can’t wait til’ you return, back to me.”

Linkage: Joe Jitsu

You Said It Was A Good Size! —————— 7″Review by Mark

Sick Sick Birds

Chemical Trains EP

Toxic Pop Records

Hailing from Baltimore, MD and featuring former members of plenty of local-legend status bands (Thumbs, Pee Tanks, Gamms Rays), the Sick Sick Birds can find no way to avoid the label of punk rock. The first 30 seconds of their latest ep confirms that tag, and phrases like “angular post-punk” and Dischordcore begin to escape the lips of quick judgers and pigeonholers. However, just when the cookie cutter is about to clamp down on the band, the jarring beat of “(Revolt With) Perfect Spelling” turns into a straightforward riff, and the riff turns into a shout-along anthem – luring in basement punks, Pixies fans, and anyone else who likes their punk to have pop and that pop to have teeth.

“Bullet Goes A Mile” doesn’t mix the styles proper like the previous track, but it does eschew the traditional verse-chorus-verse structure to tell the story of friends, foes, and a vague declaration of love going wrong. Each step along the way is an aural thrill, with vocals pouncing in and out, and the rhythm section rattling around each corner like a frenzied trip around the block. Not until the end does the song regroup for a repeated stanza. It was quickly forgotten when sharp new lyrics intervened, but the second time around the hooks dig in deeper.

“The Connects” brings the energy down a notch but the emotional charge is still intact. Rather than go with a quiet/loud dynamic (which is hardly dynamic these days), the band just plays calmly, and releases tension in minimal amounts to greater effect.

“Gag Order” is another mid-tempo rocker, creating a song fort built on a strong melody and earnest vocals rather than speed. Also, the riff at the very beginning reminds me of “Your Bed” by the band cub, which is an odd comparison indeed, but a fairly accurate note in reminding the listener that these sick birds can still hum a sweet tune.

linkage: http://www.myspace.com/sicksickbirds

I Should Have Said Something Sooner — CD Review By Mark

Bevel

Phoenician Terrane

Contraphonic Records

Bevel is a one-man-and-his-friends act from the Chicago area. Via Nuon is the one man, his friends are an octet of musicians (featuring players from Manishevitz and Califone, among others) supplying various amounts of orchestration. Nuon’s “soft” guitars and hypnotic everyman vocals and the backing band a.k.a The Mono No Aware Assemblage For Acts I-IV form a brisk swirl of americana.

The most distinct feature of Phoenician Terrane is it’s “open” sound. Notes are plucked and then carry, linger, and fade into the atmosphere. Sounds hang on like that last leaf before winter. Normally the ingredients here (lush arrangements, slow tempos, no sharp musical edges) would make you think of warm, cozy tunes to curl up next to, instead one gets a precise chill that’s refreshing but not altogether fresh, and sounds that are disconcerting but not altogether challenging. Perhaps Nuon found a way to make pleasant background music for the cave of a cold, heartless hermit.

There are instrumental interludes here and there, and while usually such passages are considered filler on a pop album, the ones here carry a brief glimpse of calm melody and distinct personality. Visions of a bird flying by your window early in the morning come to mind. While most songs are only around the 2 minute mark, the group somehow finds a way to expand time, unfolding slowly but still ultimately giving you the full picture in 120 seconds.

Highlights here include “Low Income Glade” sheerly for it’s beautiful intro, “The Purchase” for it’s sinister crawl, “A Forest Ends” for it’s 4AD-like haze, and “(Vice Versa) Protect What You Love” for giving Sam Beam a run for his money in the hummable acoustic pop department.

Overall, the whole album is one long strain of dreams and stories, and while one could tune out for a cat nap during it’s play (14 songs hovering around 32 minutes total), I think the rewards found while tuning in are worth it.