THE HUMANOIDS
Imperial Phonographic Recordings
Dirty Moves
10 songs
If The Hellacopters smoked more dope and came from Boston, where the ghosts of The Del Fuegos, The Neighborhoods, and The Bags hover overhead making the streets safe for rock ‘n’ roll, they would be The Humanoids. Music, lyrics, and image, it’s all about swagger-rock with an emphasis on the rock, and cooler by virtue of the fact that they’re Americans playing American instead of Swedes playing American. Yet another case of Sleazegrinder getting there first and doing a better job of describing them. Seems folks see a big Kiss-worship thing going on here, but my vote is for MC5 being the mother-influence. No shock that crackheads like Cokedealer had a hand in the production; none better in this town for this kind of rock.
Personally, I could have used a slightly higher hammer-dropping factor, but the rave-up five minutes into “Biker Meth Lab” goes a long way toward satisfying my jones for ass-kick, and the title track has the same snake-oil raunch that made Link Wray’s “Rumble” so wickedly evil, like a satanic Black Crowes. Can’t get your head around that? Take a bigger hit next time. Remember when most great songs were constructed around one big fat riff? They still are. (Tim Emswiler)
THE DARLINGS
Artist Friendly Records
New Depression
14 songs
This debut showcases many strong tunes. The harmony vocals are sublime; pedal steel ditto, and the drumming is versatile and always workmanlike. Lead thrush Kelly Jean Knapp sometimes strains or sings above her range, but acquits herself admirably on heartfelt hokum like “Ol’ Guitar” and her closing, epic lament “Yours for the Asking.” Simon Ritt’s vocal pitch seems off on “When the Blues Arrived,” but he pours his soul into “Another Girl Gone Boys,” and the quavery but immensely appealing “A Little Like You.” Complaining that country deals overmuch with cheatin’ lovers and chemically-induced mania is akin to pricking rock for its macho swagger but I think all good latter-day rock-suffused country ought to at least give a nod to folks like Dave Macon, Bill Monroe, Jim Eanes, and especially Hank Williams. Does old Hank smile down from heaven on songs like “Stoned and Blue”? Indubitably. (And country-rockers like Green on Red would’ve probably killed to have waxed Ritt’s brilliant lover’s lament “Juanita.”) If you profess to loathe country music you might just consider that it was often good enough for The Beatles and The Stones to admire inordinately. So try The Darlings. I did. And I’m glad. (Francis DiMenno)
THE IN OUT
Emperor Jones
Il Dito and Other Gestures
11 songs
“Il Dito” means “the finger” in Italian, and if The In Out are flipping us off it’s only because we’re too dumb to understand them. Only Todd Nudelman would use, in the ominously groovin’ “Trapped Body,” a phrase like “auscultate me” (it means listening for sounds inside the body, either by ear or through a stethoscope). On this, their first album as a trio, The In Out deliver manna for the post-punk intelligentsia: Todd’s oblique, deadpan-intoned lyrics and tinny guitar, Andy Abrahamson’s fluid, revolving bass lines, and a panoply of drum patterns from Eric Boomhower. Just to fuck with us, there are also remedial keyboards and a tweaked tape loop interlude with Todd repeating, “last time around.” “One Hand Loose” is quieter than their usual raucous fare, with a sweet keyboard melody. “Pursuit of You” seems to be about the hunt for Osama: “give us a clue/is there something to do in Kandahar?” I also love their dry humor: “please come to Kabul for the springtime.” “The Turning” and “Sense and Withdraw” are my favorites-brooding, instantly memorable songs. “Il Dito” closes out the CD; it’s an epic anthem sung in Italian with searing fuzz guitar from Dave Beach (a.k.a. Violet Squid) that contrasts nicely with Todd’s minimal, scrubbed chords. Hard to believe this was only take two. As for “other gestures,” I give this a big thumbs-up. (Laura Markley)
THE DOWNBEAT 5
Sympathy For The Record Industry
The Downbeat 5
14 songs
The competition is going to find this hard to beat as The Downbeat 5 deliver the goods on their long awaited, debut full-length. One of Boston’s best rhythm sections, Heartbreakers’ blazing guitars, and furious punk vocals come together to create what is the lead contender for number one rock ‘n’ roll recording of 2003. The CD contains fourteen rockers and all but three are JJ and Jen Rassler originals.
The opener, “Kicked Around” surprised me. The Downbeat 5 have been one of my faves since I first heard them at the Kirkland in November 2000. But here the girl group and bubblegum elements are gone. This music takes me back to ’80s Manhattan, Max’s Kansas City, conjuring up a dream band of Heartbreakers’ guitars, Cramps-style rhythm section-primal and sexual, with Joan Jett- style screaming fury.
Speaking of surprises, other than “Kicked Around,” “Too Hot To Handle,” and “Cryin’ In The Night,” these CD cuts are all new to me. Moreover the Downbeat 5 have become the rulers of the riff. That guitar lead in “Big Nowhere” emanates danger. As usual JJ never veers into histrionics, always delivering just the right lead to crank up the excitement level of each song to the highest pitch. This acute sense of dynamics is underscored in my new fave, “I’m Not Waiting,” where the Rasslers rewrite the book on thrilling guitar interplay. (Nancy Neon)
RANDOM ACCESS MEMORY
Lowbudget Records
RAM
10 songs
The band’s second full-lengther, betimes a seeming throwback to ’80s proto-electronica, thankfully has little in common with those traits which gave the genre a fatally bad name some 20 years ago. Sometimes it’s almost deterministic a la Genesis (see the brilliant, ethereal “Your Eyes”), or King Crimson (see “The Golden Age”). More often it’s frothy and frivolous like XTC, or latter-day Sparks (see “The Water’s Edge”) or Beach Boys (see “Negative Man”). Flaunting no cheesy ambient noise or synth flatulence for the mere sake of same, these tracks come across as actual compositions while still retaining the crunchy organic texture of old fashioned, um, songs (see the countrified “It’s Getting Better”). Genres are tweaked and churned, but with grace and intelligence (see the Kinks-like ska raver “In My Room,” and the poppy, skiffle-laced vaudeville turn “In From the Cold”). And always there’s texture, their saving grace. Texture, even too much, is great, but that way lies madness; ask Brian Wilson. Thankfully, these avant-savants seem to know this, even when they trip up (and out), as on their noble-but-failed soul-psychedelic amalgam “In My Dreams.” (Francis DiMenno)
WILDMAN
Indecent Music
Flag Retirement
7 songs
David Wildman is a local peace activist, and if I wasn’t reviewing a CD I’d be saying nothing but nice things about him, but I’m a rock hack, damn it, not a political pundit. And frankly, I prefer my politics a little less in-my-face than “What if Hitler had the bomb, and lasers up in space, that’s the kind of road we’re on.” Dude, the answer’s been blowin’ in the wind for like 25 years now. Make no mistake, I’m as un-American as the next guy and I am completely in favor of songs, poems, bumper stickers, and bathroom scribblings about how far this country has its head up its own arse, but when it comes to music, there had better be some songs that could survive if the lyrics got up and walked away. Sadly, not the case with the majority of the songs here, which are of the semi-hippie frat rock variety. Wildman’s backing band is pretty capable, and Paul Lenart provides some surprisingly ripping guitar solos, but this is still only for the most Cambridgian among you, and of course I mean that in the nicest possible way. (Tim Emswiler)
HAZIE MAZE
Bring Us Together
10 songs
The musicianship is impeccable, but much of this sophomore attempt still comes off as brassy, sassy, burbling animatronic funk which is inoffensive, ineffectual, and ultimately sterile. The title track is appealingly slick AOR fodder but smells formulaic and rote. The half-inspiring, half-miasmic “Usual Storm” has an interesting raga-fied coda but is mostly a failed study in contrasts. “So New” treads well-worn anthemic Sly Stone territory to gratifying effect, though the idiotically incessant horn obbligati are unnecessary and annoying. From “Peaches in My Pocket” I would guess they’ve listened to Funkadelic’s “Maggot Brain” few times. Would that this innocuous, overbusy and mostly overproduced collection had a fraction of that song’s originality and grit. (Francis DiMenno)
POP*A*WHEELIE
The Shape of Fuzz
14 songs
Pop*a*Wheelie are not breaking any new ground with their follow up to “2000 Lite Beers From Home” but what they are doing is smart, energetic punk-pop with a bit of cheek thrown in for good measure. Fourteen songs on an album is quite an undertaking, but it’s done with style. They open the door with “The Cave,” a fuzz heavy, Mudhoney-esque song that rocks your ass; they manage to keep the energy going all the way till the end of the album. Standouts are “Smallest Violins” again, heavy on the fuzz but with a great melody. “Fuzzy Sweater,” the eighth track rocks-the chorus is singalong worthy, with the requisite number of F-bombs thrown in for good measure. Bratty, brash with a fair amount of adrenaline is the theme for “The Shape of Fuzz.” If you’re into Mudhoney, and the like, Pop*a*Wheelie will definitely do it for you. (T.Lo)
ELROY
Imaginary Cat Recordings
Elroy
11 songs
Resurrecting the days when guitar riffs ruled and solos were never too long, rock quartet Elroy sounds more like a band raised on good-ole Southern blues than a group of laid-back guys from New England. Heavy on the classic rock, complete with a Hammond organ, the album pumps out songs about heartache, loss, and of course, in true blues fashion-bitches and brews. Yet the whiskey is in far less abundance than the crying and moping over loves lost. How singer Marc McElroy could find comfort in lyrics as bland as “Love is cruel/ And there’s nothing that you can do” is beyond me. Most of the album’s songs are too repetitious, and coupled with simplistic, dull lyrics, the energy that makes their music captivating quickly fades.
There wasn’t a lot that stood out in my mind after hearing this album, besides the song “Smoking Dope and Watching TV.” Regardless of any autobiographical truth, Elroy pays tribute to those of you out there who would rather spend time playing a Gibson SG and, well, you can figure out the rest. If you love your guitar and chill to the sounds of straight rock, this may be an album for you. (Lisa Herforth-Hebbert)
WHITE TRASH DELUXE
Ain’t That a Bitch
7 songs
Ain’t That a Bitch is the musical embodiment of pure rock music. In seven songs, and 20 minutes in length, White Trash Deluxe rock in a way that make people do unusual things in normal circumstances.
A strange thing happened as I tried to listen in the car on the way to the grocery store. I cranked the volume as “Cracker Box” started. By the time I discovered that there was a secret track, I found myself surrounded by police. I had somehow smashed through the fence of the State Capital with my car. I could hear the faint muffles of my landlord locked in the trunk with last month’s rent check in his hands. A woman I didn’t know was strapped to the roof. Painted on the hood of my over-revved engine were the words “Hey Mitt, Cut This!” Sitting in jail the next day, tied in a straightjacket, I realized that I had heard a damn good album.
Do not go out and buy one copy. Buy as many copies as possible, and go hand them out to people who need their life scared back into them. (Jerome Leslie)
THE TIMBRE PROJECT
Ice Cream Headache Records
Ruining Perfectly Good Songs
14 songs and 3 promos
Of the 14 tunes contained herein, I hear a peculiar (but by no means displeasing) amalgam of Nick Drake, Warren Zevon, The Zombies, and other avatars of singer-songwriter renown, with plenty of zany psyche effects thrown in (presumably via Pete Weiss at Zippah). “Getting to Nicholas” is brilliantly textured and paced and highly melodic; “Jack” displays the intensity of a classic tune like “Arnold Layne”; “Dead Aim” is a touching stop-and-start story-song-like Tom Petty sans bullshit. “F’N F” could have been an out-take from XTC’s ‘Skylarking’-or, for that matter, ‘Something Else by The Kinks.’ The wrenching “DC & CU” creeps in its petty pace and seemingly lights the way to dusty death. “My Wasted (Time)” is irresistibly catchy. Occasionally this mondo pop approach is less than successful: the magisterial “Message Received” too blatantly cops the best part of “A Day in the Life” for its middle eight; the lyrically excellent “Cranky Pants” seems a rote Chuck Berry homage. In one of his three promo spots Jaime D’Almeida implies his compositional style borrows liberally from past masters. Seems accurate. But the title is a misnomer. “Quality rock with real variety” is a more accurate self-assessment. timbreproject.com (Francis DiMenno)
CLOSER THAN KIN
Overlook Records
Seven Songs You’ll Never Hear Again
7 songs
I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for bands that stomp all over the line between punk and metal and just don’t care what you call them, dating all the way back to the godly Straw Dogs, and Closer Than Kin pummel away in that same vein, loud, fast and tight, but I’m afraid they’re somewhat lacking in the department of Truly Memorable Songs. Fun as hell when it’s playing, gets you headbanging and fist-waving regardless of what else you’re doing, but when it’s over, you find yourself wishing there had been a little bit more in the way of a hook somewhere. Spelling counts in the old school, kids-points were taken off for “serman” instead of “sermon.” Ah, the sad state of education in America. (And yeah, I’m trying to pad out the review, you got a problem with that?) “Take Time” wins the award for The Song That Made Me Air-Drum The Hardest, but, as much as I dig what they’re doing, I fear the CD title may be prophetic. And seven songs in 16 and a half minutes? Pacing, boys, pacing. The apocalypse is still a few days off. (Tim Emswiler)
EDDIE McGARRY
Green Line Music
Heat from the Spark
10 songs
Eddie is a fire fighter by trade-it’s hard to fault a guy who is willing to risk his life every day. In terms of the musical adventures on this disc there are barely any that I could find. It’s essentially folky easy listening with touches of soft rock. The songs are well written and Mr. McGarry has a voice reminiscent of any variety of other folk rocker types. I guess that is the issue-it’s not bad-it just is. One diversion is on “Older Each Time,” easily the most interesting track. It has a creepy haunting flavor, with a verbed out kick drum that adds a hint of strangeness that the rest of this disc begs. Additionally the strings on the title track add some weirdness and make an average song stand out from the others. I can see bigger things coming from him if he focused on making the balance of these songs as engaging. He obviously enjoys writing and probably isn’t out to change the world or the course of modern music. eddiemcgarry.com (Shady)
ROXIE
Make-Out Party
12 songs
Red-blooded he-men might want to check out the incipient lesbo action on the sleeve of Roxie’s full-length debut. But they might also blanch at the mindlessly hooting, churning, crooning, blobby plastic new-wave and purblind buzzsaw power pop contained on the disc. Their joyless, almost affectless inanity would be refreshing if it weren’t ultimately so inexcusably banal. Pre-fabricated, yet at least synthetically entertaining romps such as “Down on the Beach” and “Jennifer” are too few and far between. After enduring a lilting yet listing and ponderous tune like “Someone Like You,” I’m tempted to liken them to a totalitarian version of The Outlets. (Francis DiMenno)
ELLISON
Halfman Records
Always Something
9 songs
Providence indie kids Ellison describe themselves as “rock geeks,” a three-member band whose influences stem from all spectrums-the likes of Tom Petty, New Order, My Bloody Valentine, Echo & the Bunnymen, and Tool. Perhaps it is their vast difference in musical tastes, or their mission to not emulate “one band or another from song to song,” but even with the somewhat crappy quality of their recording, Ellison works. Singer Bill Paukert warbles over fuzzy instruments and distorted guitar, voice never completely meshing with the music, but still enjoyable. Whether it is simply my love for the synchronized handclap, or an unpredictable intro, “Breathe” is probably the best track on the album, music and vocals reminiscent of the early work of Irish band Ash. The use of the viola in “Fade” adds a pleasantly haunting quality, and it stands as one of the only somber songs on the album.
Always Something is definitely weak at points, particularly in the sloppy drumming and sporadic breaks in “True,” which succeed in catching you off guard, but feel misplaced and incomplete. As a whole, however, the album isn’t bad. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear more from them in the future. (Lisa Heforth-Hebbert)
12 CENT
Olde Tyme Productions
Bastard Music
11 songs
“Olde” Tyme?? Judging from the photo in the CD tray, these are some still-wet-behind-the-ears next-generation skatepunks, and the sophomoric lyrics don’t do much to dispel that notion. Case in point: “12cent (sic) coming through, you better get out of the way, could be in your city any fuckin’ day.” Umm.. yeah. But that doesn’t mean that this isn’t actually pretty cool in its own way, because it is. These boys can play fast without getting sloppy, they can slow it down and sound almost pretty, and as dopey as the lyrics might be (and they could just be intentionally ironic in a postmodern kinda way and I’m just missing it-but I doubt it), they sound like they’re digging singing them. It’s nothing terribly original, but they do a solid enough job of walking the line between punk, pop, and metal (wait, that would be walking a triangle). Some blistering guitar solos, guaranteed to endear them to air-guitar-gods like myself, but I think I’m a good 20 years too old to be part of the target demographic here, although I’ll admit that I still get a juvie thrill from shout-along choruses with the word “fuck” in them. (Tim Emswiler)
TINYHUGE
Gr8Trax
You Are Here
12 songs
Tuneful, well-crafted songs, many in an early-’70s post-Beatles melodic mode, but there’s nothing retro about eccentric but heartrending gems like “Dad Lost His Mind,” or the zany, careering recitative “Junior,” both definite keepers. Goofy romps like “My Crowd” and the Creedence-like incantation “I Wanna See You” are also hugely entertaining. Fans of T. Rex and Leon Russell will find a lot to like here. The spartan but crafty production is a model of less-is-more style economy, though the vocalist sometimes sings beyond his range, as on the otherwise exemplary ballad “Watercolors.” (Francis DiMenno)
FETISH CHICKEN
American Chop Suicide
15 songs
Let the press kit speak: “Punks who wanted to be prog but grew up listening to Iron Maiden and Sonic Youth.” What the hell can I possibly add to that?! If you grew up listening to Iron Maiden and Sonic Youth, then this is for you, unless you jumped off a roof with a head full of PCP back in the day. This is a freakshow of an album with a bit more filler than I’d like, but I’ll be damned if there isn’t a dark metallic heart beating at the center of it all-if it’s got drums pounding at near blast-beat velocity, I tend to call it metal, kids. But there are also excursions into more emo territory, and more than enough nods to eclecticism for eclecticism’s sake (kinda like Sonic Youth, if you ask me) to make sure this one never gets pigeonholed by a lazy rock hack working under deadline pressure. And I swear that they got a possessed Paul Westerberg to sing on track 7 (I’ll be damned if I can read the song titles on the CD)-if they didn’t, they should have. Points off for mentioning Queen and Anal Cunt in the same sentence in the press kit, though. (Tim Emswiler)
STEADFAST
Steadfast Records
She’s Got The Eyes
7 songs
This is almost too good to be punk. Vocal harmonies, time changes, guitar interplay… the vibe is sort of punk, but overall the songwriting is more pop than anything else. “Dollar Sign Eyes” has some drum flubs, which makes me wonder why they didn’t just do a second take. Or maybe I’m just not hearing it right? Maybe they meant to do that. “One More Time” begins with chiming acoustic guitar, then more vocal harmonies, into a melodically intricate chorus, with some very interesting guitar parts. The bio states that this band’s been around since the early ’90s, so clearly they’ve had time to hone their craft [read: got old]. The vocals on “Suzie” are very loud, and I’d have to say it’s more distracting than anything else. So other than the wildly uneven production values, this is a fine record, even though it’s about 10 years too late. (Jesse Thomas)
NATALIE FLANAGAN
One Way Productions
Let
9 songs
Ricki Lee Jones meets Mark Knopfler to the power of Chrissie Hynde? An over-simplifiction, perhaps. Throughout, the band strives, creditably, for, say, a funky Stones ambiance, as on “Patience” or “Cousin Tony,” or a magisterial Dylanesque or Pretenders-like tone as on “Come In Tokyo” or “Margot’s Arms”-but I don’t feel much of anything genuine as a result: no sense of uplift, or pleasure, or pain, or even annoyance. Maybe because in spite of the impeccable settings, the vocals come across as just so much aural wallpaper-and the hell of it is, I can’t quite pinpoint why. I’d rather blame my own affect-poor tendencies than those of the singer, but I’m not so sure it isn’t more than just a little bit of both. This is not to say that at her most dour (as on “Long Live the King” or “Water Under the Bridge”) Ms. Flanagan makes some of the more depressive peregrinations of Nico sound like Maria Callas or Lady Day-but she comes close. (Francis DiMenno)
VARIOUS ARTISTS
Swallowed By Machinery Volume 3
17 songs
Here are some band names, you draw the conclusions: Fusaine, Deerhoof, Zann, Ene, Tempis Fugit. It was only after writing this review, did I realize that this was a compilation CD, and not an album. Stupid girl, you say. No, no! I did not realize this until I took this piece of crap out of my discman and put it into my computer. Nowhere on the CD does it say that these are 17 songs by 17 bands. I give them mad amounts of credit for finding 17 bands that suck, and putting them on one album. Does this mean, that these bands have now had their instruments destroyed and all musical aspirations zapped from their brains? What is this? Is it prog-rock? Perhaps a smidge. Is it geek-rock? Definitely. Is it any good? No. Swallowed by Machinery surfs through its own planet of shit. Song 3 by Deerhoof is a mess. I feel like I am listening to the soundtrack to a Coneheads sketch. Is it even a girl singing? I don’t know. What is she saying? Sounds like something about pickles. No discernible rhythm and fucking weird for the sake of being so. It irritates me. The contribution by Zann-now here’s a surefire hit. This song will definitely get them a Tuesday night at their local Elks Lodge. Guttural, nonsensical yelling. No words that I can make out, just someone yelling at me. I’m listening to their song, and I am being yelled at. Stop yelling at me. Stop putting out music. Stop encouraging every single band on this compilation. Please. (T.Lo)
GLADSHOT
Frankly Mills Music
Relic
12 songs
Gladshot definitely drinks from the same trough as the Gin Blossoms circa 1996 on this release. That’s not a slag against the band-it’s just reality. They blend pints of roots rock and straight shots of pretty pop effortlessly. Mike Blaxills’ voice is clear and full, as heard on “Pink Sky.” The song contains a killer hook and soaring chorus. The Hammond organ adds a nice velvety blanket underneath as well. Debbie Andrews also possesses a fine voice, and I’d like to hear the two singers blend their voices instead of swapping lead duties on every other song. The songs are written well and the production is strong, if a bit square sounding. All that said, there is nothing here that would cause me to stop in my tracks or for that matter stay glued the radio station that was playing any of this. It’s almost unbelievable and a bit boring at times. Which is too bad because I think Gladshot has some real talent. I guess putting out overtly polished pop isn’t the end of the world. I can think of far worse crimes. gladshot.com (Shady)
PLASTIC PILOT
Plastic Pilot
15 songs
Plastic Pilot takes all the best parts of Weezer’s Pinkerton (melancholy boy vocals, super distorted bass, hairy production values) and beats them to death. “Numb” (not a U2 cover) has some pretty interesting changes in it, unfortunately those are repeated ad nauseum. If it weren’t for the Nirvana-ish sloppy beginnings and absence of endings, this could all be one song. I don’t mind the CD package being cheap and hastily thrown together. It’s too bad the music feels the same way, like they were in a rush to match lyrics to music or something. The guitar work is amateur, the bass lines predictable and the drums… well, it’s all in 4, isn’t it? No surprises here. (Jesse Thomas)
MARION WALSH
Song Garden
9 songs
Marion Walsh’s Song Garden, recorded at Kissy Pig Studios, is her first as a solo artist. As lead vocalist, guitarist, and mandolinist for a number of groups and with 21 (yes, twenty-one) full-length CDs under her belt, Ms. Walsh’s command of voice and instruments stringed cannot be ignored. Musically, Song Garden transcends the boundaries of what passes for folk today. Its beautifully haunting arrangements would have been ripped-off in a heartbeat by Jimmy Page for Zep III. Lyrically, however, Ms. Walsh is as banal and unimaginative as the CD title suggests. The granola crunching visions of urban folkie posers abound in such common themes as the great outdoors as a metaphor for inner turmoil, etc. Sophomoric lyrics, such as “Today I am a mountain, Strong, But a mountain, Cannot bring a friend along,” mar what could have been one of Boston’s best singer/ songwriter albums of 2003. (Marc Friedman)
NATURAL TOY
Natural Toy Records
Are We Here Yet?
12 songs
Sing-alongs aren’t just for kids anymore. With catchy hooks, effortless melodies, and some tongue-in-cheek lyrics, I can just picture that bouncing ball now. Yet Jeff Kauppi’s short pop ditties have a bizarre feel. Subjects range from John Hinkley’s failed attempt at murdering Reagan in “The Jodie Foster Song,” to Brigitte Bardot, members of Peanuts, and a cocaine enthusiast president in the hokey country tune “Larissa.” You can’t help but be amused, if not slightly disturbed, by this strange and wonderful creature.
However entertaining and light, I soon found that the novelty wore off. Natural Toy is reminiscent of that favorite tune “It’s a Small World.” Fun for the first three minutes, but soon you’ll want to start jabbing away with a pickax. “God Made Me” was reminiscent of a creepy Christian children’s song, the chorus, “I am beautiful, I am beautiful/ ‘Cause that’s the way God made me”-just too sickeningly saccharine. Worse is the album’s attempt to place serious songs alongside silly tracks, unintentionally creating a satire of love songs and feelings. But perhaps I’m just missing the punch line. (Lisa Herforth-Hebbert)
JENNY REYNOLDS
Pretty Okay Music
Bet On the Wind
12 songs
Bet On the Wind is not a collection of songs nor a sound that is ground-breaking. Reynolds’ voice is thin, and sounded to me like a scratch track, rather than final vocals. The lyrics aren’t incredibly original.
But, I like it. I really like it. The songs are solid, beautifully arranged, and infectiously singable. I like the images the words evoke of roads and sunshine and strong yet tender women. Simple pretty pictures. I like Bet on the Wind because you could pop it into your car CD player, point your Honda west, and drive to Oklahoma with it being the perfect soundtrack. It’s American, and rootsy, and folky, and doesn’t suffer the common pitfall of being overly eager or corny.
Duke Levine, firmly established as the guitar god session dude of this ilk of singer-songwriter, trails his delicious, smoky, countrified licks across the album. Catie Curtis wanders around the background, singing harmonies. Chunks of cello, dobro, and mandolin are sweetly woven throughout. Overall, an inoffensive, pretty bunch of songs. (Cherub Bothe)
JOHN HAYDON
Independent Records
She’s Gone
12 songs
For the most part this is midlevel, country-tinged electric-folk singer-songwriter fare akin to Jackson Browne or Ray Mason, sparsely produced, yet chock-full of surprisingly resonant and heartfelt numbers such as the sprightly love song “You Got Me Lost,” the woeful, mandolin-seasoned slice-of-life ballad “Where There Used to Be Tears,” and, especially, the treat-her-right anthem “This Time.” In places, this collection is a cut above the ordinary; even a band of duffers like the Eagles might well have envied the sheer rightness of tune like the classic “Could Have Said Goodbye.” For that matter, Neil Young himself might well find much to like in a tune like “Broken Too.” (Francis DiMenno)
THE BRAINLESS WONDERS
Plloyd Lumstead
10 songs
Heh. Well, at least they’re self-aware. Free of pretense and filler, the Brainless Wonders offer the world more of the same kid-tested, mother-disapproved punk rock the kids seem to love. The singer sounds like damn near everyone I know, and the band just seems to be doing a lame version of the Queers. They’re practically a Queers tribute band for chrissakes. I get the feeling these guys have a pretty good sense of humor, and it’s too bad that doesn’t come across more in their music [not that I’m not laughing, ’cause I am, just not with them]. My favorite is “Taco Salad,” which is a chord progression and a corny guitar lick, over and over and over, until the end, when the lead singer yells “Taco Salad.” Also, I think there might just be some sort of track listing error… it says here there’s 10… but it just sounds like one song, over and over and over… (Jesse Thomas)
CHOCOLATE SPINACH
There Was A Need
11 songs
I’d like to start out my Chocolate Spinach review with a quote by NME writer Marc Beaumont. Here you go: “They sound like stinking snakes of the dorkoid gutter.” Nothing could possibly be more fitting. I was sitting on the floor at T Max’s house, picking my CDs and I chose this one based on the name. I made the assumption that it would be bloody awful, and you know what? Awful does not begin to cover it. There are no words to describe this. What is this band? The first song is a ska-tinged whiner, the third one is a feel-good CSN-style song that rocks about as much as a lobotomized 90-year-old woman. Lyrically inane, and vocally weak, Chocolate Spinach may just be the worst thing I have ever heard. They’ve got this hippie vibe, yet the singer has some type of Scott Stapp thing going on. It makes no sense. It’s terrible. I’m turning it off, and I wish I could be reimbursed for the time I’ve wasted listening to this. (T.Lo)
KELLY WALSH
Zazen Records
Sea Notes
9 songs
The production on this disc is exasperating. It’s totally washed out in reverb, which I actually enjoy as a rule. On this particular release it’s seriously annoying. It buries the vocals and makes the words difficult to comprehend, not that I seem to be missing much. Most of this is just singer/ songwriter drivel. Seriously, how many of these discs need to come out every year? Maybe a few of them could get together and start a band. Kelly Walsh can’t really sing well enough to be a singer either. If her voice was at least interesting, I could deal. This disc really is just downright horrible. The worst offense is on “Anymore.” If T. Rex were still alive he could sue for the apparent stripped and stolen “Jeepster.” I actually liked “Visiting Frances” until she Pearl Harbored my ass with a guitar solo worse than any glam metal band you can name. I imagine that this is her first attempt at a solo disc-at least I hope so. She needs to figure out who and what she wants to be musically then maybe she can start again. This just isn’t quite up to the bar. kellywalsh.com (Shady)
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