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- Original Noise review from
9/85 (reissued on Merge in 2009)
VOLCANO SUNS
Homestead
The Bright Orange Years
12-inch LP
I can’t help it. Whenever I hear Volcano Suns I get this image of
things crashing into each other—hard and loud. Sort of like that bit
in the latest Mad Max saga (actually I think it’s in all of them)
where the good old Mel heroically drives a desert-car-thing headlong
into another Mohican-driven desert-car-thing—leaping out at the last
minute. All for a good cause I suppose, only I have the feeling that
if Volcano Suns were in the director’s chair, he wouldn’t have jumped
in time.
Well, if Mel is a man-to-end-all-men, then The
Bright Orange Years is a record-to-end-all-records.
Or at least somewhat erratic earlier live shows promised and sometimes
achieved—it’s all here. And what’s strange is that it all makes
sense; from the band’s self-capsulizing name, to the scrawled back
cover that’s as messy as it is legible, to the furiously synchronized
cacophony of the music itself—this record is so haphazardly together,
it’s frightening.
Perhaps the really astounding thing is that the final crash never comes—even
when a song like “It’s Stewtime” seems intent on tearing itself
apart in four different directions at once, it suddenly transforms into
a blindingly unified chorus.
One could toss out reference points like the Wipers, Hüsker Dü, and
Fleasheaters but Volcano Suns don’t really need musical guidelines.
More relevant is someone like Van Gogh, who had the technique to paint
what he saw precisely and correctly, but allowed his mind to churn it
all upside down before sloshing it out. He was rather horrid shades
of bright orange too. (Polly Campbell)
DREDD FOOLE & ED YAZIJIAN
Bo’Weavil Recordings
That Lonesome Road Between Hurt and
Soul
7-song CD
Fellow fogies will remember Dan Ireton as the lung-busting frontman
for Dredd Foole & the Din, whose often dirge-y but cathartic howls
of pain and loneliness once even briefly employed Mission of Burma members
as his backup band, so you know it wasn’t a walk in the park. If you
didn’t know him then, you might not believe it’s the same guy. Whacked-out,
largely free-form, minimal-ish acoustic sob ’n’ wail, and utterly
haunting. Like the old stuff, it’s kinda dissonant, but oddly comforting,
just a whole lot quieter and less, uh, orderly. Only one track is shorter
than 6:50, and the opener is over 21:00, but it’s never boring, despite
the apparent lack of tangible structure. The cover (great art, by the
way) says everything is a first take with no overdubs. The press sheet
(amazingly) says that early shows in this format were met with “indifference
and downright hostility.” It also says he’s quit performing, but
hopefully some recent shows will officially disprove that. This is the
sorta stuff I wait for all year and never get, something completely
outta left field that doesn’t rely on a single concrete formula to
grab your attention and tax it to its intellectual limits. Brilliant.
(Joe Coughlin)
Shadow of the Planetoid
11-song CD
Their kiss-my-asteroid heavy metal approach and cockeyed sci-fi lyrics
will probably guarantee this self-designated “ghastly tribunal”
some sort of cult following among folks most kindly described as, uhh,
“enthusiasts.” Now, I well remember the likes of Black Sabbath and
Blue Cheer, and the music here really isn’t a very far cry from those
theatrical showboaters of yore. For one thing, the grunting-to-screeching
ratio is decidedly in favor of phlegm. For another, certain songs often
remind one of certain highly esteemed and extremely collectible obscure
garage punk classics: compare “Electro-Chemical Overload” with,
say, “Action Woman.” For steak ’n’ potatoes fare this is surprisingly
appetizing: better by far than Ponderosa though perhaps not exactly
hundred-dollar prime rib. And the lyrics are… how shall I put it…
diverting. They don’t sing about bees making honey in a lion’s head.
Dig: “Now the parabola trap is sprung/As the smoke escapes from a
dead man’s lung.” It sort of puts me in mind of what Frodo and the
boys might punch into the jukebox when J.R.R. Tolkien isn’t looking.
(Francis DiMenno)
JAMES HOULAHAN
Seven Years Now
14-song CD
This is such a great album—full of bittersweet lamentations and twanging
guitars. There are a lot of good songs here, so let me name some highlights.
“Paper Man” is so beautiful and plaintive—Houlahan is backed by
an unnamed female vocalist who adds a haunting dimension. “Rocketship”
is another really beautiful track with especially depressing lyrics.
“Seven Years Now” adds some cello and piano to the album’s typical
acoustic guitars for a memorable effect. “Rest Here Easy” incorporates
some fiddle for a slightly more upbeat Tom Petty-like feel. “Diamond
Highway,” which breaks away from the slow-and-sad format of all the
other songs, is the only song I don’t like—it’s just cheesy and
fails miserably at imitating Merle Haggard. Other than that, this is
a great album chock full of melancholy but nostalgic tracks and I’d
highly recommend it. (Emsterly)
Post Colonial Records
Dagger or a Dram
9-song CD
There’s a kind of neo-Crazy Horse/ Neil Young vibe on the first tune,
along with a tight, rolling guitar sound. My curiosity was piqued. The
country-esque twang remained on the next tune, an appealing thing without
being overbearing. It was on the third tune that the word Americana
as a musical term came to mind. Some would say, oh no. But it really
sounded good. These guys have it together and know how and why they
sound like they do. A lot of bands don’t have that self-awareness
in their overall sound. Dagger or a Dram’s music exhibits confidence—that
one thing so many acts try to convince people they have but don’t.
The aforementioned styles sort of segue into a more modern sounding
alternative awareness as the disc moves along, which is nice. All in
all, a really good album from a bunch of guys who say they like to drink
whiskey and rock out. (Mike Loce)
Remixed
29-song CD
Hi, this is the bluebird that hops outside Slimedog’s apartment inhabiting
Eleiziak, the bird of Zortar. Now for those who question this, it’s
true that I don’t exist; only Slimedog thinks that I do. I reviewed
Walter Noons before and I apologize if I gave the impression that lo-fi
was said as a derogatory term. I, in fact, like most animals in nature,
appreciate a more natural setting. Slick (as in oil slick), is usually
a very bad thing, unless you’re James Brown or Kraftwerk. A lot of
this is folky but not in the lame paint by numbers style that usually
lands in my nest. This is more of an eccentric with a guitar bringing
to mind someone cool like Neil Young or Tom Waits, both of whom he sounds
nothing like. And this is a double CD that contains mucho tunes, not
all I care to chirp to, but my tiny bird ears would rather listen to
this than most because of its originality. (Slimedog)
Back From Outer Space E.P.
7-song CD
I should call it a 5-song CD, since two tracks are just sound effects
(one’s seven seconds of clicking noises, the other’s a 28-second
swooshy outro). Anyway, they describe themselves as “synth-space-pop-love,”
and that pretty much sums it up. Shimmering, upbeat, lightweight stuff
with bloops and bleeps. Thus I’m not getting the outer space angle.
Outer space is cold, dark, foreboding, limitless, and possibly deadly,
while this is an assful of sunshine. There’s even a track called “Sunshine,”
which actually reminded me of the Brady Bunch kids doing “Sunshine
Day.” It’s that frickin’ happy, even when they’re singing about relationship
woes. Which is fine (lord knows lotsa bands have made snappy, infectious
heartbreak songs), and they ARE damn good at it on a strictly craft-wise
level. Not sayin’ they should be harder musically, but it’s missing
that elusive certain something that fucks with your head and separates
’em from the others attempting this kinda thing. But I think they
CAN do it, and probably will, even. I’d still pay to see ’em right
now, which is more than I can say for most, because the overall sound
and execution really are swell. I hear sincerity and great potential.
The songs themselves, well… almost.
(Joe Coughlin)
Ganymede
15-song CD
There seems to be wide range of influences displayed in this self-styled
concept album. But also an almost definitive formula, comprised of a
mix of Frankenstein parts scavenged from Queen, the Police, McCartney,
Genesis, and others. Please notice that none of the above mentioned
are exactly controversial. They are mainstream artists, and, no matter
what their myriad charms, also masters, for the most part, of a calculated
inoffensiveness. In the book world, writers who leech on to the work
and reputation of more talented and original authors, and pen self-styled
“sequels” to, say, Huckleberry Finn or Jane Eyre, are known as writers
of “subsidiary works.” The same mentality appears to be in play
here, though to nowhere near as grotesque an effect. I was never really
tempted to shout “Write your own damn album, already!” Because there
are patches of pathos, melodic invention, and blatant loveliness throughout
this album. It’s not really for me to say that these stalwarts should
get put their sophomore album behind them—and work to forge their
tight and servicable approach to pop tunesmithing and channel it into
creating more original and durable work. This ought to be a self-generated
insight, which they may, in time, decide to act upon themselves.
(Francis DiMenno)
Send Me
12-song CD
Hi, this is the bluebird that hops outside Slimedog’s apartment. And
besides all the horrid debauchery I see in there involving power tools
and farm animals I’ve actually witnessed them going to church. Well,
it’s not a real church but one of those modern rock ’n’ roll churches
where they have a band play with a stage, large P.A., lights, and video
screens on either side. I mention this shocking revelation not only
to help dismiss the myth of Slimedog’s inscrutability but this CD
is Christian rock. So unless you’re a believer you might not relate
to songs using God, lord, savior etc. (just substitute Suzie, my man,
or beer). The music is pop/ rock with folky leanings, mostly upbeat
and some songs start with an over fuzzed lead guitar that makes you
think you’re gonna get some ’60s hit like “Green Tambourine”
or something. We birds don’t believe in anything but the sky, which
you can call God, we don’t mind, but now I’m off to drop my warm
surprise on unsuspecting humans. (Slimedog)
Root Cellar Records
The Secrets of Love
12-song CD
There are lots of good songs to be mined from Mr. Root’s repertoire,
though sometimes he reminds me of what my college ethnomusicology professor
once said about Stevie Wonder: “Ah, yes—our young friend who writes
so much.” Root’s songwriting is often in the tradition (though
not at the level of accomplishment of) Bob Dylan and Randy Newman and
Warren Zevon—albeit at their most mordacious. And he is not the most
technically accomplished singer. A trouper, yes. A satirist, betimes.
Sardonic, yet with a heart to care. Sure enough, on his latest project
he casts about, sniping at various targets and indulging in his usual
hooliganistic genre clowning: his self-announced “All I Want To Do”
Beatles rip-off “The Heart of You” is actually a pretty neat song
in its own right, and the novelty sludge-metal tribute “Like a Zombie”
is good for a cheap laugh. Root alternates his gallery of the whimsical
and the grotesque with some high-quality love songs such as “Across
the Teak Parquet.” But there are, inevitably, in such a scattershot
approach, some missteps: The reggae-fied track “Failure Is Freedom”
is only tolerable; the title track is more than a bit treacly; and the
metal-rap take-off “Snap, Crackle, Pop” initially seems too facile,
though the alternating Chipmunks-homage sections are irresistable. However,
his closing confection, “My Latest Masterpiece” puts me in mind
one of those wide-awake goofs like Zal Yanovsky’s “As Long As You’re
Here,” or the Kinks’ “People Take Pictures,” or even the Monkees’
almost goony “D.W. Washburn.” Great stuff, and well worth the price
of admission all by itself. (Francis DiMenno)
MINKY STARSHINE
75 or Less Records
Unidentified Hit Record
10-song CD
Hi, this is the bluebird inhabiting Zortar who’s inhabiting Slimedog
who’s passed out under the couch in a pool of vomit consisting of
bourbon and cheese doodles. I know—too much information. Well, this
is power pop—pop that’s supposed to be un-lame. But pop is poop
with one less “o,” no? So what does this mean? Crystal clear vocals,
perfect harmonies, catchy hooks, and a bit of energy so it’s doesn’t
digress into Paul McCartney singing “Silly Love Songs” and more
toward Cheap Trick surrendering the rock. It’s kind of in-between
here, if’n you think the Raspberries are more wunderbar than the Stooges
this might be for you. Me, when I take to the friendly skies, when I’m
floating without a care, free in the breeze, where my mind is in a place
that has no place with where I’m at, I’d rather listen to Rammstein-Coca-Cola,
wunderbar. This bird has flown. (Slimedog)
Summer of Love
4-song CD
While this CD is a load of fun to
listen to, Lake Champagne’s latest shouldn’t be dismissed as superficial.
There is some great songwriting and instrumentation for the mind to
feast heavily on. The songs are playful and feature lots of nice call-
and-response vocal moments. There are jaunty Ben Folds piano romps
and moody synth textures with just the right amount of reverb.
It’s like the Monkees and Joe Jackson doing Slowdive and Elliot Smith
with sandwiches in a Banana Splits lunchbox and a bottle of YooHoo to
wash it down. The mix is sublime. Everyone should own this.
(Joel Simches)
WILL DAILEY
Torrent, Volume II: By the Blue
Hills
6-song CD
I’m just enchanted by this guy from the first song: he has such a
unique and endearing voice that you have to hear to appreciate. It’s
just plain cute—I bet this guy has no trouble with the ladies. These
songs are very well written, extremely upbeat, and catchy—and Dailey’s
got an adorable voice. “The Right One” is a catchy, upbeat song
with a fantastic chorus that has been stuck in my head since I first
heard it. “Tomorrow Still Comes” is a standout track with impressive
guitar solos and an infectious chorus. The songs are a little bit too
happy-go-lucky for me, but they’re still so good that I’m surprised
the radio stations my mom listens to haven’t snapped up Will Dailey
yet. But you should definitely check this guy out if you’re into happy
melodies and uplifting lyrics.
(Emsterly)
Crop Duster
6-song CD
This band will surprise you. I expected a lot of high-powered
indie rock, yet this music slithers into your cerebellum like an acid-drenched
bong hit of wonder. The songs evoke an easy Uncle Tupelo/ Wilco/
Grant Lee Buffalo rootsy vibe, while the keyboards and atmospherics
are channeling the ghost of the late great Rick Wright circa 1972.
The electric piano and organ take you far into the moss while the gritty
guitars spin around the reverb drenched vocals, creating a picture of
technicolor dreamscapes with film loops by Storm Thurgeson. I cannot
possibly get enough of this. (Joel Simches)
ST. HELENA
Slow Jack
6-song CD
Slow Jack
is St. Helena’s self-produced second release. Founded in 2003
by lead vocalist and guitarist Patrick Teahan, the band evokes emotions
through intensely beautiful melodies and insightful lyricism.
The opener, “Fortune Cookie” is particularly worthy of repeated
listens, as is “Oh Jane,” a track made all the more heartbreaking
by keyboardist Magen Tracy’s backing vocals. Shawn King Devlin’s
drumming is consistent throughout the disc, giving each song an added
kick. With influences ranging from Pixies to Wilco, Wolf Parade
to Neutral Milk Hotel, St. Helena is every indie enthusiast’s dream.
As their one-sheet states, “Like the real St. Helena, the Patron Saint
of Lost Causes, the music pulls from both waste and hope. The
band shines a light onto your forgotten toys, your old wins and losses,
and reminds you that you still have a chance. We’ve all got
to dig to find some glory.” (Julia R. DeStefano)
…To Life
6-song CD
Livermore’s low key, almost brooding approach to songwriting evokes
a late night chardonnay vibe. Flashes of Ben Harper come to mind,
with little jazz excursions that remind me of Stevie Wonder. Livermore’s
vocal gymnastics at times channel some of Jeff Buckley’s best moments,
while retaining some of Norah Jones’ sunny lilt. The instrumentation
is very organic—loads of acoustic guitar punctuated with bongos, piano,
Hammond, and some understated jazzy drums. This album is great
for late night drives with your best girl or when unexpected guests
arrive to tell you about their trip to Spain. (Joel Simches)
100 Years of Summer
5-song CD
Rich’s songwriting hits the ears like a midmorning summer shower.
His voice is certainly evocative of the moods he tries to create and
is perfectly punctuated by his choice of instruments accompanying his
mindful strum. Melodically there are flashes of Tim Buckley and
Harry Nilsson, but lyrically there is nothing new here. What keeps
the music compelling is the arrangement and the production. This
isn’t a purist album. Voices drip with echo and the washes of
reverb keep the music floating and dreamy, just like a hundred years
of summer. See what I did there just now? (Joel Simches)
Slow Century Music
Novels
5-song CD
This band has a cool dynamic between siblings Matt and Marya McLaughlin
on bass and keys, respectively. They also both sing and have a
free, alternative vibe going on in the music. Makes me feel like wanting
to be a carefree collegiate again, with nothing better to do than drop
acid and watch the sunrise from a Breakheart hilltop (ah, memories).
Guitarist Matt Murray and drummer Greg Salvucci round out the ensemble
effectively and add their tasteful chops to the musical stew.
The overall concept of the disc is the McLaughlin duo’s thoughts and
ideas on what it was like growing up. With material like this, one wonders
what their next effort will sound like. (Mike Loce)
Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horrors
6-song CD
This album tries to be Goth with a capital “G.” You have a moody
guy singing in the lowest gravelly voice he can muster, punctuated by
a female vocalist. They sing songs about howling at the moon and
being dead and undead. They win points for having a real drummer
playing, but the tempos are so shaky that I almost wish for an 808 instead.
The fact their name is inspired by a Cure lyric from the
Crow is a dead giveaway that their
exposure to goth is limited to buying Johnny Depp T-shirts from Hot
Topic when they should be at home watching The
Hunger or even the original Nosferatu
silent film instead. I am sure the live show is one hell of a
spectacle, but on record sounds like a South
Park parody of goth more than anything
else. (Joel Simches)
Jaded Romantic
3-song CD
After a few years of slogging it out in the club scene as Stronghold
In Siam, this four piece decided to up the ante and go commercial and,
as Quarterlife Crisis, has crafted perfect pop songs for MTV’s TRL Generation.
Fans of Matchbox 20, Sugar Ray, and Third Eye Blind will giggle and
wet their panties over the upbeat, sugary, pitch corrected indie pop
on display here. I can’t help wonder why the world needs another
one of these generic, MTV TRL formula bands. Even MTV put that
tired teenybopper show to rest last year. It’s definitely time
for something new and fresh. This isn’t. (Joel Simches)
in New England, and would like your CD reviewed, send it to: T Max/
the Noise, 74 Jamaica Street, Jamaica Plain, MA. Then please be patient—we’ll get to it as
soon as we can.
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