Recording review - The Underground Railroad to Candyland, The People Are Home (2015)

DIY thrash in bittersweet little doses

^3.0/5.0

The biggest promise of punk rock was how it challenged the excesses of progressive rock. By reasserting music's folk roots, punk sucker-punched master musicians and their egos to assert that anyone could try their hand at it. It needn't take talent to start a band and there were no record executives to impress. Audiences rewarded the bands that created the most enthusiastic shows or vented the most spleen or had the most outrageous songs. The downside was that there was plenty of mediocre crap to wade through, but it was worth it to come across a group that had captured something special.

Of course, it couldn’t last; new wave and synthpop soon softened out the rough edges. Years later, pop punk resurrected the ideals of DIY thrashy fun, but raised the musical standards to favor a stronger degree of technical skill. Harmonies were encouraged and the songs were less likely to become train wrecks. Still, some acts like Green Day showed larger flashes of artistic ambition. The Underground Railroad to Candyland is no Green Day, but they hold true to an old school appreciation for simple garage rock structure seasoned with a solid anarchistic streak. Their new release, The People Are Home, favors short songs that step up, make their point, and move on. The playing is fairly competent, but the band shifts their perspectives like changing tee shirts, all the while keeping one foot in the garage.

The album leads off with “Dead Leg”, which digs up some found sound from an old Tom Vu real estate infomercial. The tight beat drives the cheery contrast between Vu’s hype (“You don’t have to ask your boss for a raise anymore, you can give yourself the best raise of your life: come to my seminar”) and the band’s biting response (“Look at the lids, how they don’t blink/ See how he’s dead inside.”). These wordy verses set the stage for the next sarcastic missile, “The Grownups Will Have Their Say”, which steamrolls through a sneering send up of adult advice and condescension. And like a teenager tuning out his parents’ lecture, it’s hard to really pay that much attention to the details.

By the time you get to “In Case You Dunno”, though, the spaces get wider and the lyrics get more repetitive as they turn from sarcasm to more visceral forms of expression. But frustration and worry are just passing phases, too. Like a set of vignettes from Short Attention Span Theatre, the ideas The People Are Home are a bit underdeveloped, and the Underground Railroad to Candyland relies on premature endings to salvage some pieces that barely get going, like the utterly simplistic, “You Don’t Like the Summer”.

The album closes on its strongest track, “Th Ppl R Hm”. The rhythm is compelling, some of the imagery clicks nicely, and it has some unexpected little treats like toy piano fills and subtle horn accompaniment. If all of these songs summon the chaotic rush of teenage existence, then this tune is summer vacation. Because The People Are Home captures that mixed up sense of angst and exploration, it serves as a good descendant of punk’s initial promise.

What's cool? White Reaper, "Make Me Wanna Die"

Breaking up never sounded so easy

White Reaper's secret super power comes from the the synth-pop keyboards that sneak in during the first break of "Make Me Wanna Die". Up until that moment, it's easy to pigeonhole them as another set of low--fi, power-pop garage rockers from somewhere in the U.K. The punk sneer and throbbing downstroke guitar are anchored by a dead simple beat and pulsing bass -- it all sounds fine, but when the Cars-style synth riff drops, the poppy bounce is completely unexpected. Another surprise is that despite singing with a slight British accent, Tony Esposito and the band are from Louisville, Kentucky. I'm guessing they spent a lot of time listening to the Sex Pistols and the Ramones, but they've found their own unique balance.



"Make Me Wanna Die" is a mixed up little gem, but in a fun way. It's a break up song, celebrating that moment right after the split is out in the open, when all you want to do is walk away and put it behind you. The relentless beat captures that discomfort and restless impatience, but the poppy keys say that they knew it was never going to work out anyway, and we should all just get over it.

White Reapers full length debut, White Reaper Does It Again, is due out in mid-July. That will be a treat.

What's cool? No Valentine, "Bowl of Cherries"

In praise of simplicity

When Link Wray played "Rumble", it was never about capturing a virtuoso performance. Ray Davies didn't set out to make a poetic masterpiece with "You Really Got Me". "I Want to be Sedated" didn't arise from the Ramones agonizing over an aesthetic ideal. All of these powerful songs were based on artists tapping into what they could play and how they felt. They're simple songs, but their no-frills approach makes them universal.

Like the long chain of garage and punk rockers before them, No Valentine locks into that same mindset. Cindy Pack's simple pentatonic riff on "Bowl of Cherries" is instantly familiar and gives the track a perfect serving of distorted guitar jangle. Mike Linn on drums and bassist Laura Sativa provide a pounding accompaniment that only pauses periodically to give that riff room to ring out again. Pack's lyrics are full of dead simple truisms about life sucking, but the tune never sinks into nihilistic surrender. Instead, Pack settles for detached annoyance and takes a couple of shortish solos that echo the song's small scale frustration.



It's easy enough to imagine that every teenager with a guitar has written a version of this song at one time or another and there are plenty of well-known examples on this theme. It's also true that No Valentine isn't breaking new sonic ground like Wray or the Kinks did. But it doesn't matter if you've heard this sort of song before; the punch lands because you already know it in your gut. Familiarity doesn't breed contempt, it just lowers your defenses, letting the band waltz in with swagger and just the right amount of sneer.

It's a good lead-off track for No Valentine's new EP, Can't Sleep, which is chock full of cathartic rockers. Drop by their Bandcamp site and give them a listen. Aside from "Bowl of Cherries", I also really liked the closer, "You Don't Care". 

Recording review - Tokyo Ska Paradise Orchestra, Ska Me Forever (2015)

One step back and one step beyond

^4.0/5.0 

Music reviews shouldn't start with a history lesson, and ska fans are already familiar with the twists and turns of how Jamaica’s interpretation of R&B evolved through the Two-Tone revival, leading to third wave’s pop punk approach. A review would come in handy in this case, though, because Tokyo Ska Paradise Orchestra works their way through the whole rainbow of chank beat experience on Ska Me Forever. They adroitly leap from DYI, rough punk jams to tightly arranged horn masterpieces, replete with retro pop cool. That perspective grows out of the band’s own extensive back story, starting in back 1988. While they've been a mainstay of the Japanese scene for most of that time and they've build a strong fanbase in Europe, their biggest exposure in the US has been their 2013 Coachella appearance. Ska Me Forever aims to expand on that toehold.

The Japanese have demonstrated plenty of talent for taking on jazz, classic rock, metal, and garage rock, but I wasn't quite sure how they’d do with ska. It turns out that Skapara, as their fans call them, brings a deep love for the genre, especially its older forms, but they retain a playfulness that is rooted in modern third wave ska. Except for the smattering of Japanese language across these tracks, it would be easy to imagine Ska Me Forever as the product of a SoCal band that still respected the roots. I especially enjoy how they reach beyond the obvious, such as with the opening track, “Peddlers”, which leaps from a surf guitar riff into a hyperactive Eastern European vamp, or with their jaunty cover of the mariachi standard, “Cielito Lindo”. In both of these songs, Skapara takes the natural rhythms that already favor a chop beat and they bring in other ska elements to add their own twist, like the percussive hiccup vocalization.

“Peddlers” is also a great start because it builds up a frantic energy that sets up the next track, “One Way Punk”, to propel the album forward. That fun tune blends “Blitzkreig Bop” with “I Fought the Law” and shows off sneering English vocals. Like so much of the Ramones’ work, it can’t decide whether it’s a love song or an outsider declaration of freedom. The “Hawaii 5-0” tagline wraps it up with a bit of light irony.

My favorite track on the album, though, is “Damned”, which features the DJ Fantastic Plastic Machine (Tomoyuki Tanaka). The band lays down a jazzy, spy music groove, with FPM contributing a busy mechanical percussion against the chank beat and some great glitchy breaks. The guitar fills are full of greasy twang, anchored by a bassy sax. The organ solo is phenomenal, but the tune never loses sight of the nightclub dancefloor, eventually accelerating into a full-blown “oonce” beat accented with a Latin horn line. As if that wasn’t enough, FPM added another layer of surprise, punctuating the song with a vocal sample (“Ai!”) that I thought was lifted from the intro of Ozzy Osbourne’s “Crazy Train”. Instead, it turned out to be the start of a non-sequitur phrase, “I want more discos,” delivered in a Bart Simpson voice. This chopped and mutated cubist soundscape finally collapses, but it’s a false ending that slides right back into the original jazzy progression to take it home.

“Damned” is an extreme example, but Ska Me Forever sticks its fingers in everybody’s pies, and each time pulls out a ska plum. Even at their strangest -- Skapara’s cover of “Tennessee Waltz” is a Jimmy Smith inspired soul-gospel revival, but with jaw harp in the background -- they never lose the joy and movement that ska embodies. The bulk of the album stays on more familiar ground, with tracks like "Senkou" and "Wake Up!" capturing the party attitude of bands like Reel Big Fish and Skankin' Pickle. Ska Me Forever succeeds on several levels: it's a great introduction to the band, it shows off ska's evolution and connections to popular music, and, with songs like "Damned", it offers some ideas for taking ska into future without losing the core character.

Recording review - ...And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead, IX (2014)

A demanding muse powers the evocative flow

Insistent and obsessive, …And You Will Know Us by the Trail of Dead write and perform like they’re in the grip of a sometimes terrible muse. Words burst forth as if they can’t be contained. Deep swells of ringing guitar cascade down, almost overwhelming the mix. Dynamic drops to soft moments are less a respite than a chance for the storm to gather its strength anew. Their work has a sense of urgent immediacy that demands attention. Even when the vocals are almost washed away and the lyrics are hard to follow, the songs have an emotional heft. Their latest release, IX, finds the band with less of an overriding concept than The Century of Self (2009) or Tao of the Dead (2011), but a strong tide washes through it, promising catharsis. Last year’s Lost Songs saw the band focusing on tighter, more accessible pieces along political themes, but IX falls back to their core strength of revealing personal truths, giving their material a little more rope. Maintained the stripped down lineup and tighter arrangements of their last album, the new set provides an organic extension, the band flexing dynamics just like the good old days and expanding their sonic tapestry with deftly applied strings and keyboard textures.

Trail of Dead jumps right in with “The Doomsday Book”, leading with a few seconds of sustained chords before drums propel the song forward in a headlong rush. Guitars join in earnest with a ringing arena-worthy wash, and the slurring, emotive vocals are almost buried under the drone of driving syncopation and makeshift walls of guitar. They remain clear enough for listeners to follow the theme of loneliness, of facing challenges without someone who makes it worthwhile. This kind of stirring intensity is what the band does best, and this tune dispels any doubt that Trail of Dead has lost a step.

The playlist unwinds from the veiled threat behind the martial punk rhythm of “Jaded Apostles” to the uptempo post-rock palette of “Lie Without a Liar”. These songs contain oases of quiet moments, but the band finally takes a deep breath on “The Ghost Within”, the heart of the album. Moody and thoughtful, the song is permeated with a weariness that fits the lyrics, “There’s a curse upon your home/ There’s a sadness in this room.” The vocals may be worn down, but the song builds energy as it reaches the end of the verse. On the second pass through the changes, it heats up and uses repetition to draw out tension, before it finally builds into an inevitable boil with the accusatory lines, “And I want you to let go/ And I want you to come home.” The music is a rich haze of bitterness, regret and loss, along with a sense of the love that was. By the end it all slips away, and Conrad Keely repeats those lines with the sparsest accompaniment, lost and wistful.

Trail of Dead fills IX with their usual spectrum of genre blends: Green Day pop punk, indie rock posturing inspired by the Replacements, sculpted U2-like theatricality and other, less identifiable flashes of world beat and post-rock. More importantly, the crafted production is sparked to life by their raw emotion and ability to surrender themselves to the power of those feelings. It’s not perfect – “Lie Without a Liar” could benefit by stretching out and adding a new direction or two, and “How to Avoid Huge Ships” is more a musical interlude than a fully developed song. But the band has never offered perfection. Instead, it’s the adrenaline of soaring and diving, the evocative flow that drags the listener from peak to peak and the sense of more vivid colors and experiences. Their muse still feeds their compulsion, and we’re the luckier for it.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Fresh single - Meatbodies, "Mountain"

Neo-psychedelia with a hit of a Adderall

One of the best things about punk music is that the short song format encourages a kind of focus, especially for the bass. A jazz bassist can meander along and surf the chord changes, but punk forces him to lock into the drive, ignoring all distraction. The dark throbbing insistence at the start of "Mountain" lives up to that ideal. When the drums and guitar kick in a dozen seconds later, it doesn't matter that they take us off into a neo-psychedelic groove, that bass has made it clear that this is serious shit and you'd better be buckled in. The vocals add a poppy lilt, but they float over the top without detracting from the murky grind.



Band leader Chad Ubovich has been out there working the sidelines of the garage rock scene for a while, playing with Ty Segall and Mikal Cronin among others. The Meatbodies' self-titled album is a respectable step into the spotlight for him. This track dips into thick tone of Black Sabbath and other classic acid-rockers, but sampling some of the others from the album, you can hear a great mix of trippy head music and over-driven garage rock. But that punk energy pervades the tracks and keeps them nice and taut. 

Concert review - ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead, with La Femme, Silver Snakes, and Git Some

3 April 2014 (Summit Music Hall, Denver CO)

Good intentions and all of that... I wanted to make it down to Denver in time to catch all of the acts, but I ran quite late, arriving just in time to catch La Femme's extended soundcheck. I was disappointed to miss Silver Snakes and Git Some, but I wasn't alone; most of crowd showed up sometime during La Femme's frantic set..

La Femme

It seemed to take a long time for La Femme to get their monitors and mics correctly set up, but that gave us plenty of time to take in the band members and appreciate each one's unique style, from pseudo-vaquero panache to metrosexual boxer chic. Think Adam Ant, but organized by an ADHD costumer. But the random mix of looks was central to band's artistic sense of theatre: it's not a show unless it's a spectacle. It didn't matter, though, whether the band's appearance aligned because they played in such close formation.


Back in 2010, I reviewed La Femme's EP, Le Podium # 1, appreciating the way they grafted surf guitar tonality onto new wave. Over the last several years, they've honed that style, pulling in punk and synth pop influences. The blend of reverbed surf twang and synth textures -- call it noir wave -- occasionally recalled bands like The Cure, but generally La Femme was in a class all their own. The dark energy was great and, although almost all the lyrics were in French, everyone could appreciate the side trips into Krautrock trippiness and Velvet Underground psychedelic drone.


The music worked, but the band's visuals were even better. The front edge of the stage was fenced with keyboards, with only the guitarist going without. His consolation prize accessory was a wonderfully retro theremin. They engaged the audience with stylized dance moves and ironic poses. Frontman Marlon Magnée was chaotically charismatic, whether offering a campy come-ons
to the crowd or sexually assaulting his keyboard. It was crazy fun, but also a little bewildering for some in the audience. Afterwards, I heard someone asking, "What the hell was that?"


By the time their set ended in a trainwreck celebration of noise and dancing, they had played enough punk thrash to lay the groundwork for Trail of Dead’s set.

...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead

Contradictions are at the heart of what powers …And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead. They ambitiously create rich, concept-heavy post-rock albums that are executed with raw punk rock intensity. Their music spans from fragile, wispy psychedelic patterns to peaks of roaring chaos. But the biggest contrast is between the serious, focused tone they find in the studio and the unfiltered range of emotions they bring to the stage. This tour is all the more intriguing because it’s a brief pause before resuming work on a new album that’s scheduled for later this year. With their most recent release being 2012’s Lost Songs, they may have thought it would be hard to motivate a good turn out, so this tour reaches back to what is regarded as the band’s breakout album, Source Tags & Codes.


After La Femme's wild finale, it didn't take long for roadies to clear their equipment and power up Trail of Dead’s gear. So, after this brief break, the band came out and launched immediately into “It Was There That I Saw You”. The opening vamp passed quickly and they soared into the driving swirl of the song. The dynamics of the album version were preserved, but the band was wired and pounded through the tunes. Conrad Keely seemed to swap out guitars for almost every song and Jason Reece often traded instruments with Jamie Miller, but these transitions never slowed the flow of their performance.


Even stripped of their studio production nuances – like the ambient crowd sound and free jazz noodling at the end of “Baudelaire” – the tunes lost none of their power or presence. Trail of Dead nailed the punk foundations of the songs and made them as cathartic and moving as ever.


It was clear that the crowd was intimately familiar with Source Tags & Codes, sometimes feeling torn between singing along and surrendering to the visceral punch of the music. For all the meaning that we imbued these songs with, Keely and Reece were even more invested. They played like they were tapping into their younger selves with the hindsight of all the changes they had seen. The personnel shifts and bulkier configurations of the past seemed to melt away and this four piece group channeled the epic scope of that earlier incarnation. Like guitarist/drummer Miller, bass player Autry Fulbright II has only been with Trail of Dead for three years, but his charismatic presence was a strong part of the stage chemistry. Both men seemed just as committed to these songs as Keely and Reece.


All too soon, Keely marked the end of the series, noting “This is the last song,” and then he sighed, “It’s a short album.” The wistful sound of “Source Tags & Codes” was perfectly appropriate and it was even shorter without the string coda of the album version. As the final notes faded, the audience seemed drained for a moment before the band kicked into “Mistakes & Regrets” from 1999’s Madonna. It captured the retrospective mood in the wake of Source Tags & Codes and then dismissed it.


The crowd settled in as Trail of Dead wandered through another five songs from their back catalog, with particularly strong performances on “Catatonic” (Lost Songs) and “Would You Smile Again” (Worlds Apart, 2005). For this latter tune, Reece reached into the crowd, giving people a chance to sing along and participate in the ritual. After wrapping up the main set, they came back out for a single encore, a version of “Richter Scale Madness” from the band’s first album. The nihilistic flail of the tune energized us all for the late night ride home.

More photos on my Flickr.

Concert review - Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks with Tyvek

Wednesday 12 February 2014 (Gothic Theatre, Denver CO)

This was a mid-week show, which limited the attendance a bit. The openers played to a thin crowd, but the venue filled up by the time the Jicks came out.

Tyvek

Step one for rock show domination: soften up the crowd a little. Detroit punk trio Tyvek took on the task with ferocity. Despite the sparse crowd, they thrashed their hardcore hearts out. While the rhythm section held down the throbbing darkness and frantic beat, frontman Kevin Boyer flailed away at an old Silvertone guitar that had been to Hell and back.

Boyer provided most of the dynamic for the band, nervously pacing and making sure that every screaming note was physically wrenched from his guitar. Although the bass and drums were more introverted, drummer Beren Elkine brought a tight focus to her playing, making every heavy strike count.

The audience swelled over the course of their set, but seemed patient enough to appreciate the fresh young blood and their noisy assault.

Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks

The obvious second step for control of the show would be for Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks to come out and ride Tyvek's energy, maybe digging deep in their back catalog for something suitably punchy, like “Dark Wave” from 2003’s Pig Lib. Instead, the band followed a Jujitsu strategy and led off with “Tigers”, a quirky pop gem from their last album, Mirror Traffic (2011). From there, they quickly moved into material from their newest release that came out in January, Wig Out at Jagbags. Over the course of the show, they’d eventually play most of that album, only skipping a couple of tunes (“Chartjunk” and “Surreal Teenagers”). The new material continues tempering the wilder experimentation of the band’s earlier work, but that shouldn’t be mistaken for formulaic dullness. While the studio versions are polished, their live arrangements took plenty of liberties with the songs to transform them, whether by slipping into jam band digressions or letting the solos drift off the reservation into off-kilter dimensions. That was most evident on their performance of “J Smoov”; it captured the recording’s restrained ballad feel, beginning with a similar jazzy guitar intro, but the second solo mutated the piece with a trippy post-rock jam of heavily echoed guitar and dreamy keyboards.

It’s become a common refrain to note that Malkmus has been playing with the Jicks for longer than he was with Pavement. All of that time could explain why he seemed so much more relaxed and content on stage in Denver, but the more likely reason was that he has created a perfect home for himself with the Jicks. Rather than a posturing as a rock god, he was content to shrug into the role of ironic slacker.

His stage patter was improvised and occasionally awkward, but delivered with equal amounts of sincerity and nervous diffidence. He had clearly picked up on some local character, so he could strain for connection with the crowd, “Cherry Creek is cool. Do you all skateboard there?” Of course, it was arch enough to showcase the irony. Still, Malkmus was most comfortable in the middle of a song, whether bouncing on his toes to the beat or slinging his guitar behind his head for a flashy solo. As the controlling pivot point in the band, he could abandon himself in spinning angular riffs or spiral in on an echoing melody, confident that the other players would provide the structure and the balance.

This doesn’t mean that they were delegated to mere supporting roles, though; the other three musicians each made strong contributions to the show. Aside from Joanna Bolme’s solid bass work – she anchored the dangerous shadows of “Shibboleth” and drove the time signature changes on “Spazz” – she had a strongly grounded presence, offering the occasional sarcastic remark or well-timed flash of amusement as commentary.

Opposite Malkmus on the stage, the versatile Mike Clark effortlessly shifted from guitar to keys, often during the same song. He maintained a casual aplomb whether locking in with Malkmus on intricately aligned twin guitar leads or contributing a fluid synth run. He also added his own humorous touches. At the end of the closing song, “Forever 28”, the band was winding down and Clark shifted his keyboard part into the familiar changes for Styx’s “Come Sail Away”. Drummer Jake Morris immediately picked up on this and started to sing the refrain, inspiring the crowd to join in. Morris had already provided most of the backing vocals during the set.

The encore featured “Asking Price” and “Stick Figures In Love”. which Malkmus described as their own two-song equivalent to “Come Sail Away”. Then they covered Steve Miller’s “Swingtown”, building it into a Southern-fried jamfest. The last entry on the set list just said “Pavement”, which was another sign that Malkmus has come to terms with his old band. For this night, they rocked their way through “Box Elder”. With the crowd clamoring for more, the band had a quick meeting to pick one last song to close out this first show of the tour. They took their positions and counted it out. The whole hall recognized “Baby C’mon” from the opening riff and swayed along. It was a perfect “Happy Ending” from the Jicks.



More photos on my Flickr.

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)

Concert review - Skyfox, with Discount Cinema, The A-OKs, and The Brixton Guns

27 November 2013 (Marquis Theatre, Denver CO)

What am I thankful for?

Bands that play small shows and still rock their guts out
To crowds of their friends who love them and must shout
Drummers that pound as the guitar tone sings,
These are a few of my favorite things.

This was a pre-Thanksgiving show that offered a strong mix of local acts. Two pop-punk focused bands bookended the night with a couple of wildcards tossed in the middle.

The Brixton Guns

Naming a band after a Clash song sets a high bar that demands an over the top performance. Fueled by a raw, unpolished stage presence, the band's sound borrowed more from Green Day than their namesake inspiration. The lead singer, Cody Brubaker, coiled up behind the mic like he was ready to take on the whole bar. The second guitarist moved around a bit as well, but channeled most of his focus into his playing.


The instrumental line up was unconventional: two guitar, drums, and a keyboard providing some bass and most of the leads. They played well enough, but their presentation has a ways to go to catch up with the other acts on the bill. In particular, I didn't notice the keyboard player interact with the rest of the band, much less the audience. He partially made up for it with some solid playing, especially on one poppy, new wave tune ("Dance"?) where he locked in synch with the guitar for a tight, twinned section.


The band's original songs were strong and Brubaker did a good job of selling them. That said, their cover of Social Distortion's "Far Behind" got the biggest crowd response during the set.

The A-OKs

As a hardcore ska punk fan, I was primed for The A-OKs before they even started. Moments after the group packed the stage and kicked into the first song, all those expectations were satisfied. Solid horn section? Check. High energy beats and a staccato bassline? Check? Guitar nailing the chank but capable of thrashy leads? Check. Charismatic frontman who could harness the rambunctious energy of his band and magnify it into a non-stop spectacle? Check and double check!


That energy is the key to ska punk. It's an alchemical transformation of Brownian motion on stage into a free-for-all party in the crowd. The musicians caromed off one another, trading grins and knowing looks. When the horns periodically dropped out, they never stood idle; they flailed and bounced along to the beat. The audience fed off this excitement and began to wake up. Lead singer Mark Swan had no problem helping the process along. Early in the set, he leaped into the crowd to jump-start a skanking mosh pit while the band ground into a heavy punk groove.


All of the players were expressive, making every moment more of a show, but Swan and Mark Malpezzi were the clown princes. When he wasn't blowing sax, Malpezzi roamed the stage, taunting and teasing his bandmates or mouthing along with the lyrics. Swan played a host of characters. One song would have him raging against the world and the next would evoke a bemused goofiness.


The style also supports a good mix of anger and sarcastic wit. The A-OKs' songs did a great job of pulling in everything from sucker-punch metal leads and cathartic punk flail to tight horn riffs and smooth vocal harmonies. Individual tunes like "Brain Bucket" effectively flipped from pop-punk sneer to chop beats and horn fills and back. This was a rock solid performance that would be very hard to follow up.

Discount Cinema

Fortunately, Discount Cinema made a strong visual impact as soon as they hit the stage. Each musician expressed their own persona, from Kevin Dallas' anarcho-punk to Ian Gray's feral night-feeder. Bass player Gray was especially focused, never breaking character. The band matched their striking look with well-orchestrated songs and a theatrical performance. Lead singer/keyboardist Jordan Niteman comfortably filled the role of front man for the band, spending as much time interacting with the audience as he did behind the keys.\

The band's hard, heavy edge had the Gothic undertones to match their artful appearance, but it was hard to pigeonhole their sound. The keys added a post-punk/synth-pop vibe, but there was a fair amount of metal shred and punk slash in the mix as well. Drummer Steve Zimmerman provided the thunder to Dallas' guitar lightning, but the songs magnified their punch with adroitly handled dynamic drops.


Discount Cinema largely relied on Niteman to connect with the crowd along with their flash appearance. They finally broke that pattern when Dallas took the mic to make a few sincere remarks. His theme of self-acceptance resonated with the audience, although it provided an interesting introduction for the band's next song, a cover of Miley Cyrus' "Wrecking Ball". Ironic punk covers of pop music are fairly common, but the band tapped into the roiling emotion of the lyrics and let it vent.


The band finished on their song, "Dreamcatcher", packed with insistent new wave shadows.The ominous bridge built up the tension, but the catchy chorus closed out the tune, transforming it into an ear worm that lingered well after they left the stage.

Skyfox

Skyfox wrapped up the evening out with a strong set that showcased bandleader Johnny Hill's cocky persona. He and bass player Matt Lase provided the stage patter that created a relaxed impression while it shaped the flow of songs. They kicked off their show with a big, pre-recorded entrance. At first, it seemed self-indulgent, but they quickly brought enough humor to reveal the irony. A staged ending/encore closed the show in a similar manner.


Compared to Discount Cinema, Skyfox had a much more natural presence, but they worked the space just as aggressively. Guitarist Mike Rich migrated from one side to the other to involve the whole front line of the stage and Hill struck his own set of guitar god poses. Their pop-punk tunes were tight and clever, reminding me more of Bowling For Soup than Green Day even though Hill's voice is closer to Billie Joe Armstrong's. Songs like "Counter Counter Culture" managed to cram in social commentary, self-deprecating irony, and hard-driving guitars.


Even though most their songs fell into my favorite "snotty boys with guitars" sweet spot, they took one detour for a moving song about Hill's father's death, called "Our Last Breath". Arranged for two acoustic guitars and pre-recorded strings, it provided a sweet, sentimental moment. Where the rest of the set built up the band as glib and a bit arrogant, this risky but powerful tune showed Skyfox's wider emotional range.



More photos on my Flickr.

Concert review: New York Rifles with Pep*Squad and Tarantula Tango

Saturday, 20 July 2013 (Road 34, Ft. Collins CO)

It's a small world. Jamie Gould, the bass player for New York Rifles, invited me to catch them at Road 34. It wasn't until we talked before the show that I found out this Portland band has a Ft. Collins connection. Drummer Nate James used to play with Sex Glove, a cool local band I haven't seen for four years (reviews).

Tarantula Tango

This thrashy noise-punk group out of San Francisco coaxed a lot of volume and stage presence from a fairly stripped down setup and two musicians. Unlike a lot of duos, thy mixed it up, alternating the lineup between drums/bass and drums/keys. The band's Facebook profile talks about coming out of the basement party scene, which shows in the intimacy of their set.


Cade, the drummer, was the linchpin of the band's sound. His fills had a good sense of controlled flail, but stayed right on time, even as the arrangements grew chaotic. His partner, Caroline, switched between the bass and keyboards. The bass songs had a stronger punk vibe, while her keyboard playing often set out for more experimental and strange destinations.


By the time they got to their surf-party deconstruction ("Surf's Up"?), their sense of humor was in full gear and they were pushing boundaries. Kinky stream of consciousness interludes were punctuated by spasms of pounding noise rock, giving the tune a primitive performance art feel. To some extent, their set was geared towards seeing how harsh and random they could get while still having fun and nominally calling their act music. It was a small crowd of mostly fellow musicians, but Tarantula Tango held the stage well.

Pep*Squad

Pep*Squad set a low bar as they took the stage, "We're Pep*Squad and we're completely unprepared for this set." They immediately gave lie to this as they kicked into a smoking cover of The Rapture's "Echoes". Like a dimensional shift, the room immediately fell under their high-energy, danceable punk spell. This was limbic system fun at its finest: emotionally compelling and memorable.


They followed up with crazy medley of songs I never thought I'd hear together, starting off with U2's "With or Without You", passing through "Girls" by the Beastie Bous, and winding up with R.E.M.'s "It's the End of the World." There was no doubt in my mind that they felt fine.


Pep*Squad effortlessly bounced from new wave attitude to Krautrock cool and all the while, the beat kept the dance floor hot. I particularly liked their lead singer, Brett. He was charismatic with a vocal range that could drop from a post-punk yip down to a rough growl. The band may have been completely unprepared, but they pulled a party out of somewhere for their set.

New York Rifles

Well before their show, I dropped by New York Rifles' Soundcloud page to get a taste. I liked their noisy, driving rock sound. Their lead singer, Scott Young, had a distinctive reedy voice with equal measures of AC/DC's Bon Scot and Jello Biafra (Dead Kennedys). If Pep*Squad was all fun and games, New York Rifles had more serious aims.


With a thick wall of distorted guitar, they tore into their set with punk psychedelic intensity. If I had ever wondered what Country Joe and the Fish might have sounded like as a hardcore band, now I had a decent idea. The trio cultivated a deep, dark sound, anchored by Gould's pounding gut-punch bass line. The drums did their part to kick up the aggro to support the wailing vocals. Even if Young never touched his guitar strings, it would have been a powerful rite of musical mayhem.


But he was all too happy to throw down doom-filled punk themes and howling feedback assaults, punctuated by sneering asides and hoarse hollers. His stage persona was hypnotic and dangerous as he threw himself into the music, singing wild-eyed. The band's  heavy, cathartic sound owed a big debt to countless hardcore bands, but New York Rifles stretched out from that base to incorporate a looser jam structure that fit well with their dynamic stage work.


The tight, punchy set was over all too soon, leaving just ringing ears and sweaty skin.

More photos on my Flickr.