Recording review - Buffalo Killers, Fireball of Sulk (2014)

Who do Buffalo Killers they think they are?
^2.75/5.0 

On the one hand, it's good that Buffalo Killers are so full of ideas that they're compelled to drop a second release within the same year. It's a bonus for their fans and it generates a fresh round of attention. For the most part, reviewers have been kind, so it's paid off, but I can't help but feel let down. To be fair, these six songs aren't bad at all. Instead, the problem is that they're so disjoint. EPs are usually a grab bag, but Fireball of Sulk comes across as an insecure demo for a less competent band trying to find something that will stick.

On a full length album, Buffalo Killers might have been able to create enough context where the playlist could flow more smoothly, but Fireball of Sulk never finds a center. Despite the consistency of their guitar tone, bass grind, and laid back rhythms, they set up two cross currents that break up any momentum that might develop. In particular, the slogging classic metal sound of "Marshmallow Mouth" is optimally placed to break the EP's stride. Its closest sonic cousin on the album is the angst-free grunge of the opening track, "Blankets on the Sun", but rather than accentuating that connection, they crammed it in between a twangy bit of psychedelia ("Weird One") and a '70s style folk rock tune ("Something Else"). This gives it a jarring impact but doesn't serve any of the songs well. To further muddy the water, they double down on the country rock vibe with "Don't Cry to Me", whose choppy cut-time beat recalls Mike Nesmith and the Monkees novelty country work like "Your Auntie Grizelda".

Understand, neither the grunge nor the country rock sounds are objectionable; in fact there's plenty to like about each. Despite being the pitfall of the playlist, "Marshmallow Mouth" is probably my favorite track here. The headbanging snarl of bass and guitar sets up a trudging grind that sways through some two-chord changes to lay the perfect foundation for the flailing guitar solos. It's a thick morass of garage metal, but it's so easy to surrender to the inevitability of the rhythmic tide. The lyrics don't make a lot of sense beyond the accusatory tone of the vocals, but they avoid easy parody, unlike a lot other bands working the same vein.

By contrast, "Something Else" could have easily fit on 2012's Dig. Sow. Love. Grow., with the same unselfconscious retro aesthetic and vocal harmonies that would be at home in the James Gang. In contrast to "Marchmallow Mouth", the autobiographical feel of the lyrics offer a sincere sense of where the band is at. More importantly, Buffalo Killers show an intuition for flow that is missing from the larger picture. The verses settle into a solid wall of guitar, punctuated by the tom hits, but they throw in rhythmic breaks on the lines, "If this life's a game, then have I lost?/ Do I have to dance to pay the cost?" that match the questioning mood and disrupt the sing-song feel of the earlier lines. Later, they use a repeated guitar figure to build up momentum for the Joe Walsh style solo.

In a shuffled iTunes-driven world, it may not really matter. People can pick and choose what they like from Fireball of Sulk and be perfectly happy. For that matter, it's easy enough to jiggle the playlist for some improvement. I'd rather hold out for their next full-length, though, in hopes of a more coherent sense of the band.

Recording review - The Melvins, Hold It In (2014)

Super group offers metallic crunch and twisted art noise

Some visitors are conscientious, happy to drop by and help with the chores, but they’d never overstay their welcome or be too forward. Others are more domineering, taking over the house and disrupting everything. On Hold It In, Buzz Osborne and Dale Crover of the Melvins invited Paul Leary and J.D. Pinkus of the Butthole Surfers to the party, and these guests moved in and joined the family. Rather than mere featured performers, Leary and Pinkus became equal collaborators on the album, which couples the Melvins’ characteristic metallic crunch gristle with the Surfers’ twisted art noise. That combination stays true to each band’s modus operandi while offering some very interesting surprises.

The super group eases into the partnership with “Bride of Crankenstein”, which has the Melvins taking the lead. The sludgy heavy metal opening sets up a steady methodical grind. The track is dedicated to a classic head-banging groove. Basso rhythm guitar provides a rough foundation for buzzsaw accent fills, while the background is choked with chaotic static. The bridge opens up the tune, beginning with a flickering electronic reference to Edgar Winter’s “Frankenstein” that ushers in a new harmonic progression. The song rips into these chords to soften the ground for a pair of guitar solos that show off Leary and Osborne’s different styles. First, Leary lets fly a burst of loose, double-stop bends that decay into sloppy chromatic flail, releasing some of the simmering tension of the piece. Osborne closes out the interlude with a brief but wicked run that starts out as a smooth wail before tightening into a sweet bit of shred.

Two songs later, we get a better sense of this four-headed beast with “Brass Cupcake”. At first, it’s just a crunchy rocker with an interesting vocal arrangement. Osborne gamely lays out the surrealistic, simplistic lyrics, while Leary periodically drops in to repeat whatever line just passed by with a scream, like a disturbed Greek chorus. Those intervals of echolalia are backed by distorted waves of guitar. The tune then falls into a low-fi Van Halen breakdown before moving into a strong, hard rock bridge. But the rock crumbles into a spacey, Alice-in-Wonderland ending, full of warped fragments. With no firm sense of transition, we find ourselves immersed in the following trippy track, “Barcelonian Horseshoe Pit”. Deep in avant-garde Butthole Surfer territory, we’re trapped in a disoriented fun house with weird tonal flashes which are mutated and chopped with back-mask. This ungrounded drift lasts for a solid two-plus minutes before coalescing somewhat into a dismal pseudo-song that takes its inspiration from Bauhaus’ “Bela Lugosi’s Dead”. Amid drum solos, hazy confusion and bits of baleful guitar, the band tenders this as their soundtrack for when the nightmare monsters finally tear through and press themselves into our world. This song pairing shows how the two bands complement one other, a yin-yang of driving rock and amorphous experiment.

Like much of the Melvins’ back catalog, Hold It In may focus on heavy proto-grunge, but actually delivers a range of musical flavors. The band’s staying power owes a lot to their out of the box thinking. While Leary and Pinkus help that along here, there are other intriguing side steps, like the electro-pop feel of “You Can Make Me Wait”, the deconstructed garage glam of “Eyes On You”, and the zombie western twang of “I Get Along (Hollow Moon)”. One of the best is the meandering track, “The Bunk Up”. A stutter beat rhythm sets a nü-wave funky mood with an angular punch while the theatrical vocals are reminiscent of The Tubes’ more artsy work. That initial section gives way to an edgy perspective of an arena rock bridge. As that wraps up, rather than just falling back to the opening changes, the tune roams further afield with a mellow jam band groove, full of back-masked melodic musing. Eventually, the lazy flow finds its way back into the dark, with sneering vocals and a goth metal gait. There’s nothing predictable about it, but it truly satisfies.

Osborne has long idolized Leary for his playing and Hold It In is probably all he could have hoped for. In any case, it succeeds in showing how well the Melvins could integrate the Butthole Surfers’ avant-garde spin into their musical house. The album features a fair amount of redecorating and adjustment, but all time-shares should run this smooth.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Recording review - Soundgarden: Screaming Life/Fopp (2013 Reissue)

Time capsule compilation traces the roots of grunge

What if you ran into your adolescent self? You’d like to think that you’d be as cool as you are now, or at least as cool as you remember. Most likely, though, you’d just realize that the younger you was only partly formed. This reissue of Soundgarden's first two EPs, Screaming Life and Fopp provides a pre-clarified glimpse of a band that had no idea what they were part of. When Soundgarden formed in 1984, they were just another group playing around Seattle. Grunge wasn’t a thing yet, but they were creating it along with other bands like Green River, the Melvins, Alice in Chains, and Nirvana. In 1987, they finally got into the studio and cut the Screaming Life EP with Sub Pop records. They’d go on to be the first grunge act to sign with a major label, but they wouldn't hit it big until 1994, when their fourth album, Superunknown, took off. Although their previous release, Badmotorfinger (1991) made the rotation on MTV, it was “Black Hole Sun” that introduced them to a wider audience. Their sound was thick with heavy metal grind, buzz-saw guitar riffs and darkly poetic lyrics of alienation. This compilation offers hints of what was to come and what would be abandoned.

It leads off with Screaming Life’s “Hunted Down”, the band’s first single. A strafing jet engine roar of guitars kicks off a doom-driven punk slog, like Black Sabbath meets Black Flag. Chris Cornell models his voice on Ozzy Osbourne’s, although the deeper tone is all his own. Dark metal glints through the sludge as the thrashy guitars capture the sweet dissonance of punk and the rhythm section channels classic heavy metal. It’s interesting that their first single shows the clearest link between their roots and their mature sound. Unfortunately, the song loses its poise and falls apart at the end. Just as the band reaches a climax and shifts the direction of the piece, a rough fade hurries in to close the curtain. It’s a sign that the track didn't really go where they had hoped and that they needed to salvage an otherwise decent take.

The rest of the Screaming Life tracks are more derivative, revealing a lot about Soundgarden's inspirations and a little of how they would reach their creative peak. Black Sabbath and Led Zeppelin are constant touchstones along with a fair amount of AC/DC, but the band also favors Bauhaus and Iggy Pop. “Entering” and “Nothing to Say” in particular dredge the depths of echo-laden post-punk, which they’d eventually refine into the shadowed psychedelia underpinning their later work. On the other hand, the Primus-like quirk of “Little Joe” and the blues-rocking audio collage of “Hand of God” are side branches that would be pruned by time.

Back in 1990, Screaming Life and Fopp were re-released as a paired package. This 2013 reissue remasters all of the songs and adds a bonus track, “Sub Pop Rock City”. Originally on the Sub Pop 200 (1998) compilation, “Sub Pop Rock City” moshes through a garage punk arrangement, showing off Soundgarden's sense of humor. The hoarsely screamed vocals drop back for a couple of cut-and-paste record label in-jokes, such as asking Sub Pop partner Jonathan Poneman, “Do you think you’d have too much trouble if we got rid of our sideburns?” The light attitude is a polar opposite of the band’s normal style.

The Fopp half of the compilation breaks character even further. The band spins into a retro funk space, covering the Ohio Players’ 1976 song, “Fopp” for the title track. The band nails the groove, even copying the vocal sound of the original. Cornell whips out his best Robert Plant impersonation to sing the original’s female lead vocal lines. While Soundgarden relies more on metal guitar fills than funk horns, it’s a surprisingly straightforward cover. They double down by seamlessly transitioning to an extended remix version. They play with their earlier tracks, shoving them through an Echoplex for a psycho-disco feel. Oddly enough, it would all work fairly well on the dance floor. The remaining tracks, “Kingdom of Come” and a cover of Green River’s “Swallow My Pride”, push fewer boundaries for the band and fail to stand out.

Listening to this time capsule compilation is an interesting experience. The Screaming Life half meets expectations while introducing Soundgarden’s foundations as a punk band. With hindsight, it’s easy to recognize the roots of grunge winding through the tunes. The other tracks are maybe more important. They remind us that there’s not a straight line from adolescence to maturity. The band wasn't designing “grunge,” they were just cutting loose and having fun. Even if their adult personas might cringe a bit, it’s good to see the full complexity that spawned this iconic group.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)