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.

Recording review - California X, Nights in the Dark (2014)

Sensitive and evocative, wrapped in cathartic waves of thunder
^4.0/5.0 

California X protects their soft chewy center with bristling, metal shard guitars and rolling waves of thunder. Most of the songs on their latest offering, Nights in the Dark, are wrapped in barbed wire brambles of distortion that still let their vulnerability shine through. It's a standard formula that hordes of emo bands have followed, but to their credit, frontman Lemmy Gurtowski and his crew never get depressed enough to slip into whiny self-indulgence. Even better, this latest release is a major step forward in defining the band's sound. On their eponymous debut, California X drew comparisons to their more famous Amherst big brother, Dinosaur Jr. They've still got the thick tarry fuzz, but the songs never descend into the apathetic catharsis that J Mascis is so adept at. Instead, California X stretches out and adds some low-fi post-rock reminiscent of bands like Trail of Dead, as well as some nicely honed metal chops.

The echoing rumbles of ragged guitar kicking off the title song give the album a good start, but the band really hits their stride with the fourth track, "Hadley, MA". The preceding tune, "Ayla's Song", breaks the flow of cotton-wrapped, raging amps with an evocative fingerstyle acoustic guitar, That piece ends abruptly with a brief bro comment, "Cool", and then "Hadley, MA" brings back the throbbing distorted tones, but the transition flows naturally because the the melodic riff ties back to the previous song's tonal center and phrasing even as the production contrasts so strongly. The slow grinding rhythm creates a fraught emotional space, but the arrangement is flexible and allows for some strong dynamic shifts. In particular, the drop-back for the vocals on the verses lets them stand out cleanly and emphasizes the growing intensity of the chorus. It's easy to sink into this song and be buffeted by the noise.

This in turn sets up the dual tracks of "Blackrazor", with part one offering a post-rock flavored slow-core metal grind. Like an implacable fate, the song rolls out darkly with occasional rhythmic stutters. The massive crush of bass and guitar chords lays the foundation for a fluttering lead guitar that strains against the boundaries of the song, like Robin Trower jamming over Black Sabbath. Moving on to part two, California X sets up a faster metal punch that immediately suggests Motörhead with choppy guitar, pounding drums, and righteous bass drive. Thankfully, the vocals never attempt Lemmy's growl (Kilmister, that is), but the head banging energy is perfect. Running almost seven minutes, this part gives the band plenty of room to drag out the jam, with tight harmonized leads that show off their technical chops. While California X doesn't really position themselves as metalheads, these tracks extend their range while maintaining a consistently loud and cathartic sound.

It's easy to find minor gripes with Nights in the Dark: the unbalanced tone and muted highs wear a little thin and a couple more songs would be nice. But it's a strong sophomore effort that clearly refutes critics who heard too much Dinosaur Jr. in their debut release. Savor the noise and find your way to the center.

Recording review - Team Spirit, Killing Time (2014)

Forever young and other deals with the Devil

Some 18 months ago, Team Spirit dropped their five song self-titled EP and it's little exaggeration to say that I've been waiting for their first full length release ever since. Their infectious blend of thrash, pop, and muscular dual guitar riffage made them one of my favorite acts of 2013. Killing Time captures the manic energy of their live performances with a well-crafted set of songs that delivers on the promise of that first taste.

The album leads off with"Surrender", and although it's not a cover of the Cheap Trick classic, it's easy to hear that band's influence in the uptempo staccato beat and the chorus harmonies. The lyrics are soaked in the turmoil and ambivalence of teen love. Tired of being toyed with but still drawn back to the flame, front man Ayad Al Adhamy is left with no other choice but to surrender. He yo-yos between sneering attitude and helpless fascination, driven by the punk guitar thrash. Of course, all of this is effectively trumped by the revelation that "It's too late to help me / Cause I made a deal with the devil / And I'll be forever young," which goes a long way towards explaining Team Spirit's magic. Al Adhamy wears his teenage heart on his sleeve and, like Joey Ramone, it doesn't really matter how long it's been since his high school years. He taps into the angst, the naïveté, and the seething emotions of adolescence, and distills them into tight servings of pop punk perfection.

I've often referred to my love of "snotty boys with guitars" and Team Spirit knocks that out of the park with a sound that links back to Too Much Joy and The Refreshments along with punk idols, The Ramones. But they also have a polished pop attitude that doesn't get mired down in simple blues-based progressions. Even a darkly heavy track like "Closer" can't quite settle for a single facade. The initial splash of New Order introduction gives way to a thick tidal wash of guitars, while the sneering vocals come straight from the garage or fuzz-warped basement. This kind of layered experience is typical of these tunes. Team Spirit is equally happy, regardless of whether listeners head bang along or pick up on the danceable drive of the songs. Along the way, they toss out plenty of interesting perspectives that may be missed the first time around underneath the low-fi grind, but they give Killing Time some real staying power.

In many of these songs, Al Adhamy takes on a borderline persona, like the hapless character in "Teenage Heart" who tries his best to talk his way out of trouble ("C'mon, c'mon/ Come on, Baby, give me another second chance") even though it's clear that it's a hopeless task. He may have forgotten to tell his girl that he suffers from a teenage heart, with all the hormonal fluctuation that incurs, but there's no way she's going to fall for that. Again. "Cool Guy", on the other hand, wallows in indecision about whether to commit or walk away from trouble, "I'm trying to convince you/ I want you to convince me, too" but can't get much beyond, "I'm trying to convince myself/ That you are worth all of this Hell."

That 18 month lag since their debut EP included plenty of changes for Team Spirit with Al Adhamy losing his original bandmates fairly early on, but he quickly regrouped with a solid line up that includes Daniel de Lara and Alex Russek holding down the rhythm and Kieren Smith on guitar. While these guys bring their own personalities to the mix, Killing Time shows that the band never abandoned their core thrashy attitude or dedication to party-time rock. Turn it up to 11 and soak it in. Then, when Team Spirit makes it to your corner of the world, come out and see what rock and roll is in all its exuberant glory.

Recording review - Bad Luck, Cold Bones (2014)

In praise of angst and attitude, thrash and crunch 

Long before I had heard of the label pop punk, I had my own name for it: snotty boys with guitars. The SBWG label might encompass more than just pop punk, but thrashing guitars, tight harmonies, and a lyrical mix of angst and sarcastic attitude occupy the sweet spot. While it's nowhere near as intricate as my other favorite styles - psychedelia, post-rock, and modal jazz - there's something compelling about the primal energy that bands like Bad Luck tap into. For me, it's intimately tied to the feeling of being 14, an age where the stakes are unimaginably high and a roiling mess of thoughts and emotions always lurk below the surface. One moment can embrace the camaraderie of close formation harmonies, but the next soars off alone in a furious scream. It's a reminder of when I was partly formed, when anything was possible but I didn't have enough perspective to know what I even wanted.

The best examples, like Green Day's American Idiot, Team Spirit, or Colorado's Convalescents, can somehow blend a search for meaning and an emotional truth into a rallying cry. At their worst, SBWGs can be self-indulgent and immature. Even then, though, the risk seems worthwhile, because there's a pretty good chance at catharsis if nothing else. On Cold Bones, Bad Luck mostly beats the odds and delivers a satisfying collection of songs.

It didn't seem like a slam dunk at first, though. The loaded pathos in the opening lines of "Willoughby" aren't promising, "Oh, nobody wants me back home/ Nobody loves me at all," but Bad Luck doesn't take long to rush headlong into defiance. The tempo kicks up and the guys run through a hoarse autobiography of neglect and self-reliance. As the vocals trade back and forth, they strain a bit on some awkward phrasing, but that initial bit of self-pity transforms into a badge of honor. Ultimately, the technical execution is trumped by the power of their obstinate fatalism.

The next run of songs harness grinding guitars and solid uptempo drumming to set a relentless pace. Highlights along the way include the inevitable Green Day tribute ("King of the Ring '98") and a satisfying mix of ringing feedback and punk rage on "I Wish the World Would End (Every Jan. 10th)".

The band surprised me, though, with a strong change-up on "Lantern Park", which is a bittersweet breakup ballad. Bad Luck wisely abandons the distortion for a simple acoustic guitar and delivers the song with a tenderness that accentuates the pain and loss. The first verse is incredibly well written:

And it's overcast in the back of this van Mental photographs are flooding my head So I strike a match and set fire to my brain Just to burn away every image of you And that's only cause I know it's what you want me to do But still I'm stuck I dwell in your ashy remains 

Aside from the great imagery - who hasn't found themselves stuck in the ashy remains of a lost love? - the vocal delivery is perfect,from the rough edge of sexual frustration in the second verse to the little shrug and half laugh as he acknowledges his ex moving on while he's still trapped. Rather than get too caught up in the morose mood, the band eases back into crunchy catharsis on the next song, "Graphic Novel(s)", which balances soft and loud sections.

Throughout Cold Bones, brothers Dominick and Joseph Fox trade vocals in a one-two punch. The whipsaw shifts build a nervous energy that permeates even slow-burn tracks like “Ex-Friends”, where their paired voice of conscience becomes a straight-edge rant at a user (ex-)friend. The theme may be a bit mature for my inner 14 year old, but it resonates with the static that filled my head at that age.

Maybe that’s what I’m still looking for from all of these SBWGs: raw passion, a calm eye in the middle of a distortion storm, and a belief in an order that’s both reassuring and something to fight against. Cold Bones does a fine job delivering on those needs.

Concert review - Reel Big Fish with Suburban Legends, Mighty Mongo, and The Maxies

17 January 2013 (Gothic Theatre, Denver CO)

Aside from getting pelted with somebody's half-full mixed drink while taking pictures of Reel Big Fish, I've got little to complain about. Well, I could also mention the traffic between Ft. Collins and Denver. It took longer than expected to get down to the Gothic and we arrived shortly after the Maxies came on stage. This means we missed the secret opening act: Reel Big Fish drummer Ryland Steen performed a solo set to promote his new album, This Magnificent. I wish I had caught it; sampling the album on iTunes, it would have been interesting to hear how he translated the driving rock sound into solo guitar arrangements.

But traffic is a constant pain and rowdy crowds are a fixture at hyped up ska-fests, so let's dive right into the bands.

The Maxies

The first thing you notice about The Maxies is how well the band leader moves for a fat guy. Actually, that not true; the first thing you notice is that the band are all sporting crazy masks and distinctive red and white costumes. Aside from the kitschy outfits, the band also hid themselves behind a family of pseudonyms: Maximum Maxie, Android Maxie, etc. Oh, yeah, they also had a polar bear on stage and claimed to be the biggest band in Greenland.


It's all a glorious gimmick, but the band committed completely to the conceit. Lead singer Maximum Maxie was a frontman determined to affront. Like a super-hero (villain?) Don Rickles, he abused the audience with a sneer and a wink. He taunted the crowd, singling out people to mock and making one outrageous statement after another. This only let up when he turned his insults to the other bands playing with them on the tour. Meanwhile, the rest of the group clowned around, capering around the stage like deranged mimes. That barely-reined comedic chaos drove the set and spurred the whole venue to party.


The group's stage work fit well with the smart ass punk attitude permeating the songs. Each tune was a power punk explosion of tight chops, catchy riffs, and irreverent lyrics. In deference to the skankers, the band threw down a chank beat now and again, but neither that nor their masks could disguise their punk roots. It was a high energy set from a well-practiced group and cheap shot one-liners added just as much character as the costumes. Their own press says it best, "More PUNK than ROCK. More ROCK than PUNK!"

Mighty Mongo

When a band kicks off their set at a ska show with the heavy reverb of Dick Dale's "Miserlou" AND a member is playing a wicked-ass keytar, you know you're in the throes of cognitive dissonance. After the Maxies' in-your-face performance, Mighty Mongo initially seemed a bit restrained. But that impression faded as they quickly gave us a taste of their stage personas and made it clear just how much fun they were having. Bass player Alex Card in particular had an outsize personality, moving from rock god pose to self-consciously Caucasian rapper without a pause. Those shifts were scripted into the setlist, but, like a good actor, Card owned the role at any given time, laughing his way through a hip-hop call and response ("When I say 'hot', you say 'dog'!) or earnestly singing an '80s style rocker.


Fellow singer Lindsay Vitola balanced him out with an exuberantly wholesome performance. She had a strong voice and a warm stage presence. Completely at home in front of the crowd, she danced and bounced along with joyful abandon, but locked right into the mic to nail her part. The early songs in the set emphasized her keytar work but even more would have been welcome. Instead, she focused on her singing. She and Card had worked up some great vocal arrangements, trading verses then harmonizing on the choruses.


Mighty Mongo's setlist skipped across a stream of genres, favoring alternative rock and '90s pop, but they leveraged enough ska to satisfy the crowd. Of course, it didn't hurt when they brought in Chris Lucca from Suburban Legends for a couple of tunes including a solid rendition of "Never There" by Cake. Tapping into such a versatile sound, the band had the crowd moving from start to finish.

Suburban Legends

The sound check teased us when bass player Brad Polidori riffed through a taste of Rush's "Limelight". That served as fair notice that the band would pepper their set with a host of interesting covers. Their show actually opened with the hard punching "High Fives" (Rump Shaker, 2003). A perfect blend of catchy pop, driving beat, and ska breakdowns, this song jump started the audience. The music was super high energy enough but Suburban Legends demonstrated the value of their experience playing at Disneyland and crafted every moment to wring out maximum entertainment. Whether it was Vincent Walker charming the crowd, the tight stage choreography keeping everything in motion, or the big reveal of their trademarked backdrop, the band never wasted an ounce of opportunity to create a big splash impression.


While Walker and the horn players performed the most intricate stage moves, all of the band had their parts.  Walker was an incredibly dynamic frontman, working the edge of the stage, and projecting theatrical facial expressions that played all the way to the back of the room. In fact, it's clear that they're well prepared for much larger venues than the Gothic, but that didn't dampen their enthusiasm.


Their Disney background bubbled to the surface as they ran through several company classics, from turning "Duck Tales" into a rousing party anthem to channeling the spunky arrogance of "I Just Can't Wait To Be King" from The Lion King. Walker even traded roles with guitarist Brian Klemm so Klemm could take "Kiss The Girl" (The Little Mermaid) over the top. Klemm topped himself, though, with a spot on Neil Diamond impression for "Sweet Caroline". Several of the Disney tracks are available on the band's recent EP, Dreams Aren't Real But These Songs Are.


The non-stop extravaganza stage presence is great, but it plays so large that it could make Suburban Legend as mockable as the latest boy band. Fortunately, they understood that and remembered to give the occasional wink that acknowledged the campiness, balancing the sincerity with satire. And it helps that they weren't just a set of dance moves and posturing; their musicianship was top notch. The arrangements could be infectiously poppy, but they knew how to bring in a rocking solo riff or nail a horn blare in tight formation to give the music the right edge. This made them a fine match up for the headliners.

Reel Big Fish

Last year, Reel Big Fish landed high up in my list of favorite shows for the year, largely based on their fun, party atmosphere, great songs, and frontman Aaron Barrett's wildcard humor. They tore up the Gothic during their set, inciting the mosh pit to reach for the edges of the room and the tunes were as droll and sarcastic as ever. Barrett seemed in even better form than last year's show. But with trombonist Dan Regan retiring from touring, the act lost some of the stage repartee magic that Regan helped create. Saxophonist Matt Appleton, proud beneath his mohawk, did his best to contribute to the mood, but I missed the good-natured sniping that Barrett and Regan had developed.


That said, the band still put on a hot show that rocked their fans. After the precise choreography of Suburban Legends, Reel Big Fish seemed fairly loose and relaxed, but Barrett and the band made more karate kicks than you'd have seen in an Elvis show. Otherwise, Barrett was content to spin across the stage while the horns coordinated some of their movements. But while the stage blocking was left to chance, the music was locked down into the groove. Lead guitar would take the dive and fall just as the horns burst in to clamor for attention. The bass and drums insistently propelled the songs with well-oiled synchronization.


The set list favored the group's early material, leading off with "Everything Sucks" and later hitting crowd favorites like "I Want Your Girlfriend to Be My Girlfriend" and "Beer". Dropping the banter, Reel Big Fish flew through the songs, juxtaposing old with the new: "I Dare You To Break My Heart"  led to "Good Thing" before the band transitioned back up the timeline to "Your Guts (I Hate Them)". One of the funniest moments came in the set up for "Sell Out". They launched into a deadpan ska cover of Carly Rae Jepsen's "Call Me Maybe". After nailing the chorus, Barrett said, "Yes, we're going to play the whole song." Then they challenged the men in the audience to start the second verse, but immediately detuned into chaotic discord before rebooting into "Sell Out".


Lindsay Vitola from Mighty Mongo joined the band for a pair of their classic male/female duets, "I Know You Too Well To Like You Anymore" and "She Has a Girlfriend Now". Vitola brought her own character to the parts, acting out and holding her own with Barrett. Their chemistry was perfect.


The encore skipped the multi-genre romp of "S.R." that they often perform in favor of "Thank You For Not Moshing", but they still closed with their iconic cover of A-ha's "Take On Me", which I think I've finally heard more often than the original. Gladly.

More photos on my Flickr.

Recording review - Polar Bear Club, Death Chorus (2013)

Well-seasoned, but too tired for pop punk

"You can strum your hardest and get away with hoping for the best.” Death Chorus leads off with “Blood Balloon” and the lyrics and tone reflect a well-seasoned perspective, with a wry and jaded pungence. Ironically, Polar Bear Club lead singer Jimmy Stadt sounds younger than ever, abandoning his usual scream-burnished voice for a fresher, cleaner sound. Despite that change, the ringing clash of guitars that kick off the tune anchors the band to their thrashy roots. The song is powered by a sharp contrast between the relentless drive of the glib verses and the frustrated howl of the chorus. The bridge floats for a brief moment of wishful optimism before Stadt gives it up for the comfort of cynicism: “Romanticize the past while the future’s in full collapse.” That line alone sums up the whole album. Although Death Chorus is full of hard rocking guitars, they’re overshadowed by hindsight and regret. “Blood Balloon” sets the recipe for most the songs that follow: equal parts pointed attitude, calloused rough edges, and bleeding emotion fill the album with a grown-up version of pop punk. Where most of their peers aspire to be little more than Green Day clones, Polar Bear Club sounds more like a raw tribute to the classic power pop of the Pursuit of Happiness. That band’s biggest hit was the sourly sarcastic “I’m an Adult Now”, which is apropos because these guys are struggling with childhood’s end and an inability to turn back the clock.

As a result, Polar Bear Club is consumed with ambivalence about the past; they hate wallowing in memories, but they still hold a reverence for golden moments that won’t come again. This is often explicit, as on “Graph Paper Glory Days” and “Chicago Spring”, but it sometimes lies in the subtext, as on “For Show”. This theme seems rooted in Stadt’s personal sense of a generation gap with the band’s younger fans, which he touched on in passing during an interview last year on Mind Equals Blown. He doesn't seem to realize that, at 28, it’s too early to be so hung up on replaying history.

To some extent, the band’s obsession with retrospection grounds the album’s more overwrought emotional spikes. In that context, the chest-beating histrionics read true as an honest reflection of the band’s head space. Unfortunately, while there are several decent songs, it weighs down the album. It’s telling that the best track is the sonic outlier, “Siouxsie Jeanne”. Dropping the pounding guitar front, the band keeps it soft and simple for a late night confession of love. The vocals are wistful and moving enough to sell weaker lines like, “I’m not you, but you’re me/ A thought, not yet a woman or a girl/ Let’s say girl, forever we’ll say girl.” The intensity climbs with the emotional soul-baring, showing off Stadt’s stronger singing chops. This song connects because the pain is rawer and less filtered by the album’s pervasive sense of fatalism.

Late twenties is hardly old, but Polar Bear Club sounds too worn down for pop punk. Rather than try to recapture the cocky pose that the style calls for, the band should consider letting their music grow up to match their more mature point of view. The good news is that, while Death Chorus isn't a gem, it is a sign of a band that’s not attempting to hold on to permanent adolescence. At some level, they’re already self-aware enough to recognize it: “I guess everyone is part perfect storm and part broken song.”

(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.

History lesson: Dramarama, Hi-Fi Sci-Fi (1993)

The gatekeepers of mega-fame said, "no" and the band rocked on

The music industry is ruled by accidents more than talent. Thousands of brilliant bands never make it out of their hometowns. The ones that make it into a studio often watch their creative babies languish for lack of attention. Dramarama was poised to be just another example when they were accidentally discovered by KROQ-FM’s Rodney Bingenheimer in the mid-‘80s. The Replacements-like sound of “Anything Anything (I’ll Give You)” from 1985’s Cinéma Vérité introduced them to L.A.’s radio market and then to national attention. A new record deal followed and things looked bright for the band.

They seemed ready for the leap. Lead singer/songwriter John Easdale had a way with snappy, droll lyrics and could deliver them with attitude. His personality struck a chord with the times; he was a bit of a smart ass, but clever and funny. The band’s sound was rooted in the classic rock of the Rolling Stones and Neil Young, colored by glam band flash, and decanted into an updated punk attitude. But the luck that got them their break deserted them before they really scored. The band filled several albums with strong songs like “Last Cigarette” and “Haven’t Got a Clue”, which helped build an audience but they couldn’t translate that into widespread national success. Instead, they stayed trapped in the college radio ghetto, which adored quirky, witty bands like Dramarama, Doug and the Slugs, and the Pursuit of Happiness. These groups could develop cult followings and even slip a song or two into mainstream rotation, but they didn’t have the formula to break out. And when a band like R.E.M. did make the jump to the big time, the reasons remained an inexplicable mystery. But each random success served as intermittent reinforcement to keep the others trying.

By the time they released Hi-Fi Sci-Fi, the band was getting desperate; time was running out to capitalize on their earlier successes. The album emphasizes a harder grind than their earlier work, as if to translate energy into audience enthusiasm. Many of the songs reflect Easdale’s frustration with the music industry and its obsession with getting big returns on little investment and less artistic merit. This led to morose tracks like “Senseless Fun”. The down tempo beat and defeatist lyrics express the pointless pursuit of stardom: “And every time we load the gun/ And say that this one is the one/ It’s senseless fun/ Disappointed.” On “Work for Food”, he paints a picture of himself as a damaged, homeless burnout carrying the reminders of his failed career among the cans and other detritus filling his shopping cart. Despite the pathos, though, the music rescues the mood with a hyperactive beat that gives strength to Easdale’s defiant assertion, “I deny a problem with my attitude/ ‘Cause I will work for food/ Yeah, I keep on rollin’.” That statement perfectly sums up Dramarama’s deeper truth. They may sneer and complain, but they keep on rolling, working hard to impress the gatekeepers in the music business and reach a larger audience. That resilient undercurrent keeps Hi-Fi Sci-Fi from falling into a downward spiral, driven by the band’s depression. They may plea “Where’s the Manual?” and offer weary doubts on “Late Night Phone Call”, but they also strut through “Bad Seed” with a convincing brag, “I’m a one man army, I’m the King of Hearts/ I’m like a Shaolin master of the martial arts.”

Revisiting these songs, I’m struck by how they show off Easdale’s pragmatic perspective. Even their collection of anti-drug songs on the second half avoids preaching. Instead, they deliver a straight-edge message on “Prayer” with nervous energy and a Keith Richards-inspired guitar solo. The punchy “Don’t Feel Like Doing Drugs” uses sarcasm to deflect peer pressure, “Always looking for an alibi/ A sad excuse, but what’s the use?/ Come to think of it, it never crossed my mind/ ‘Just say no.’ Duh,” The autobiographical feel is refreshingly ambivalent.

Of course, Hi-Fi Sci-Fi didn’t become a rallying cry for the band. Instead, it was their swan song. Between their label, Chameleon, going under and apathetic radio support, Dramarama read the writing on the wall and called it quits in 1994. It would take almost a decade and VH1’s “Bands Reunited” show before they officially came together again in 2003. Their one newer album, everybody dies (2005), captured their old sound fairly well. But despite the reboot and continuing to tour, the band is more or less in the same place they were at the time of their 1994 breakup; they have a small cult of rabid fans and little mainstream presence.

Twenty years after its release, the album stands as a testament to the band’s wit, energy and earnestness. The production is a bit lush by modern standards and sound effects like the street ambiance intro on “Work for Food” are fairly passé, but there’s a timeless aspect to their heads-down rock ‘n’ roll and dogged fight against the odds. Their influences, like the Rolling Stones and the New York Dolls, still hold sway in today’s indie scene, so Hi-Fi Sci-Fi doesn’t sound as outdated as it might. When I listen to recent bands like White Denim, the Henry Clay People, or Team Spirit, I can hear the echoes of Dramarama. Unfortunately, hard work, catchy lyrics, cathartic rock, and scattered pockets of fandom aren’t driving huge market success for those groups either. Instead, their best hope comes from the random luck of a viral video or hip commercial. Some things never change.
(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Recording review - Alkaline Trio, My Shame Is True (2013)

Decent music dragged down by banal lyrics

Midwest punkers Alkaline Trio have had a restless career since their start in 1996, bouncing between record labels and taking a few years to settle on their line up. My Shame Is True marks a return to new material after 2011’s Damnesia, which was a more acoustic romp through their back catalog as a gift to their fans. Looking for a change, the band teamed up with Bill Stevenson (Descendents), recording at his Blasting Room Studios in Ft. Collins, Colorado. Stevenson’s punk credentials have attracted a roster of clients like Rise Against and NOFX, which sets some high expectations for Alkaline Trio’s latest. Musically, the mix of indie rock, punk and pop-punk stands up well, but the pacing and the lyrics undercut the project.

My Shame Is True starts out with misdirection. The catchy and humorous “She Lied to the FBI” is a blatant appropriation of the Ramones’ “The KKK Took My Baby Away”. Despite the lack of originality, the clever story line and syllable-perfect phrasing manage to charm. The smart-ass attitude, chunky guitars and tight chorus harmonies make a strong beginning, but the facade cracks when it becomes clear that they don’t have much more than the initial premise as they run through the set up a second time. Joey Ramone could sell this with spastic indifference while his band dared anyone to call them on it. Alkaline Trio may have been inspired by the Ramones, but their amateur-hour send-up proves short-lived. The album quickly moves away from fun-loving pop-punk to beat its chest with confessional rockers. The snark isn’t completely abandoned, but it’s hard to find.

The second song, lead-off single “I Wanna Be a Warhol”, ramps down the wit significantly. From the perspective of a medicated, spoiled child, they alternate between surrealistic observations and begging for attention. The title says it all — maybe even more than they intended. They want the recognition of being controversial art and revel in how special they’d be, but they seem to miss the point that much of Warhol’s work was about elevating the mundane. As the rest of the album unfolds, Alkaline Trio is dragged down by their unremarkable themes of dissatisfaction, challenging relationships and the power of love.

Given that bandleader Matt Skiba describes My Shame Is True as “an apology note set to music” in the wake of a romantic breakup, it would have been better to push these first two songs to later in the playlist. Leading off with the driving power pop of “I’m Only Here to Disappoint” would have at least nipped any bait-and-switch accusations and framed the catharsis better. In this context, the group hits their stride with “The Temptation of St. Anthony”. The uptempo punk-pop beginning tries to channel Green Day, especially with lines like, “My tender carrion/ The damage has been done/ From the depths of your heart/ To the tip of my tongue.” Alkaline Trio draws on this energy to jumpstart the punk intensity of “I, Pessimist”, which features whipsaw vocals between bass player Dan Andriano and guest singer Tim McIlrath (Rise Against).

Unfortunately, these two tracks provide the best pairing of lyrics and music while the rest of the songs struggle to make their mark. From the platitudes of “Only Love” to the avuncular advice of “Young Lovers”. Alkaline Trio hardly has anything to say. Sure, “In the end, there is only love,” but the head-banging rock and dynamic shifts deserve better revelations. Suffering is supposed to inspire great art and confession may be good for the soul, but too much of My Shame Is True turns out to be banal.

(This review first appeared on Spectrum Culture)

Commentary: Die Ärzte, an appreciation

My favorite German teachers

In 1996, I took a temporary job in Germany. Total immersion built up my language skills, but my secret weapon was listening to German bands. Die Toten Hosen's "Zehn kleine Jägermeister" was in heavy rotation on the radio, along with Die Ärzte's "3 Tage Bart" and Tic Tac Toe's "Verpiss Dich". Dropping into my local CD shop, I found a copy of their 1993 album, Die Bestie in Menschengestalt (the beast in human form). Listening that afternoon, I was transfixed. Die Ärzte had the visceral punch of the Ramones, but their songs were funnier, more political, and much more clever than I expected. Later, I'd pick up albums by Die Toten Hosen, Pur, and Die Fantastichen Vier, but Die Ärzte became my favorite band. Even 17 years later, I keep up with each new release because the band continues to consistently deliver exactly what I love.

Since I started my blog, I've wanted to share Die Ärzte with an English speaking audience, but I've always held back. I'm not sure I can make their case to people who don't speak German. Their lyrical dexterity is a huge part of their appeal, but translating the words is like explaining a joke; in the distance between the songs and my writing, the delicate sparks flicker out and grow cold. Even so, I've decided it's finally time. Listening to Auch (2012), which I bought on my recent visit, reminded me all over again about that first introduction. The sarcasm, punk scene allusions, and joyous music on the opening track, "Ist das noch Punkrock?" (is it still punk rock?), find a perfect balance. The song chastises a fellow punk who's turning soft:

"Fick dich und deine Schwester" hast du dir tätowiert
No future, das war gestern, seitdem ist viel passiert
Sie heißt Andrea, ihre Haare sind blau
Ihr habt Verkehr und du gibst es zwar nicht zu, aber sie ist deine Traumfrau

which loosely translates to:

"Fuck you and your sister" is what your tattoo said
"No future", that was yesterday, since then a lot has happened
Her name is Andrea, her hair is blue
You slept together and you won't admit it, but she is your dream girl

I love the flow of the phrases; rhymes like "Schwester/gestern" and "gefährlich/ganz ehrlich" mesh smoothly while offering surprising twists. And the music rolls out in an unstoppable wave, but still builds in some solid dynamics. Is it still punk rock when your heart pounds from kissing her? "Ich glaube nicht" (I don't think so).

I probably wouldn't be such an effusive fan if there was a similar group performing in English. If I could get my fix from a single band in the US, I'd probably be following their tour from town to town. But it's impossible to find a comparable mix of pop punk and headbanging rock that delivers a balance of humor and attitude with a smart lyrical sense. Most American punk pop bands seem so much flatter. On the surface, Die Ärzte are just another group of "snotty boys with guitars" (my favorite guilty pleasure), with straghtforward songs and simple instrumentation. But even as they joke about their own shallowness, they reveal a greater depth. They can mock themselves on "Schopenhauer" (from Die Bestie in Menschengestalt), but then name check a host of philosophers. Their songs cover a wide range of topics that are unexpected from any similar band, like radical progressive politics, overturned conventions, and a nuanced understanding of relationships. Similarly, they regularly show off technical skills beyond their punk roots as they casually shift between musical styles. Imagine if Green Day could also jump genres, credibly pulling off metal riffage and ska chanks. And even if they had the chops, they lack the any skill at self-deprecation.

Die Ärzte are complex of three distinct personalities. Each band member brings their own songs, offering unique perspectives, Guitarist Farin Urlaub (his stage name is a pun on "take a vacation") is the punk pop voice in the band. Sometimes a little goofy, he's best at slipping a smart-ass attitude into tight, catchy songs. "Ist das noch Punkrock" and "Ein Lied für dich" (a song for you) (from 13 [1998]) give a good sense of his style. The latter song responds at one point to their critics (loosely translated again):

This is also a song for those who think we're shitty
A song for you, because you can't make us suffer
Are we too childish? So what? Lowbrow? Whatever.
That only means we can improve ourselves
And our lyrics aren't due to having bad parents
Our fans can happily argue with you

Drummer Bela B also has a good sense of humor, which comes through on songs like "Tu das nicht" (don't do it) (from Jazz ist Anders [2007]), a tongue-in-cheek song about music piracy. More often, though, he favors moodier, Gothic themes, like "Der Graf" (the Count) (from 13) or "Dein Vampyr" (your vampire) (from Im Schatten den Ärzte [1985]). Bela also seems to be the most political of the three, writing about anti-Fascism and social responsibility. His delivery can vary between sarcastic and serious, with "Die klügsten Männer der Welt" (the smartest men in the world) and "Nichtwissen" (ignorance) being two good examples from Geräusch (2003).

Bass player Rod (Rodrigo González) serves as the hard-rock foundation of the band. More direct than the other two, he grounds the band with a more practical perspective. His contributions, like "Sohn der Leere" (son of the void)  or "Die Hard" from Auch or "Anti-Zombie" from Geräusch tend to have a harder drive, leaning towards metal. Although he doesn't write as many songs as Urlaub or Bela, he has a strong impact on the sound of the band.

These three voices could pull the band apart, but each clearly respects what the others bring to the music. Step through the list of videos below to get a taste of the band's range:

"Schrei nach Liebe" - from Die Bestie in Menschengestalt

"Langweillig" - from Planet Punk (1995)

"Mein Baby war beim Frisör" - from La Frisur (1996)

"Ein Lied für dich" - from 13

"Rock Rendezvous" from Runter mit den Spendierhosen, Unsichtbarer! (2000)

"Unrockbar" from Geräusch

"Living Hell" from Jazz ist Anders

"TCR" from Auch

Recording review - Dad Punchers, Dad Punchers (2012)

Bummer punk comes of age

I nominate emo-core as the official soundtrack for being 15 years old. It's an age packed with contradictions: vulnerability and rage, fatalism and rebellion, maturity and an ache for simplicity. The style's confessional lyrics, wild dynamic swings, and cathartic grind reflect that teenage turmoil. And even though I'm well past 15, this kind of music still speaks to me. Like my teen self, I still wonder sometimes what the point is and why do I need to care so damn much.

Dad Punchers' self-titled debut mind melds with my inner 15 year old.  They may call their genre "bummer punk," but it's a potent blend of emo-core and pop punk. Elliot Babin, drummer for Touché Amoré, started the band as a side project, bringing in bass player Matt Ebert to fill out the sound. Babin's voice is perfect, shifting from emotionally drained weakness to self-righteous frustration to fit the moment. On tracks like "Redwoods", his raw vocals convey a remarkably deep sense of need, craving validation against the staccato drive of the song. Then his defiant chorus on the next track, "E. Coli", matches the thrashy guitar energy: "Let your empires burn/ Learn to live and learn."

But the real gems on Dad Punchers are the more thoughtful tunes that show a greater maturity. "Post-coital Tristesse" may start whimsically:

I've found a new home
Between her neck and her collarbone
And I've hung my photos
From the earlobes

But the mix of surprised joy and gratitude recalls Dramarama's "Incredible". Both songs ache with love, but shine a light on the outward signs of dysfunction. Babin wraps up his analogy accepting all the downsides of the relationship: "We've got a broken A/C/ The hinges, they creak/ And I continue to sign the lease."

Similarly nuanced, "Cul de sac" shows a grown up perspective on passing through life's milestones:

The time when the house you grew up in
Is referred to as your parent's house again

A sense of nostalgic loss pervades the tune. The music is gentle and delicate against the simple lyrics, yielding a pained beauty. The song builds up to a cathartic wash before resolving back to sing about when you inherit your parent's house. The song makes its point with understated clarity.

Ringing guitars balanced by softer insights, this is what 15 is really like. Pounding a drum one minute and missing the simplicity of childhood the next, Dad Punchers understand the tumult and share it well. At 23 minutes, the album qualifies more as an EP, but it's a tasty morsel.

Concert review - Convalescents with Arison Cain, Blind Brilliance, and White Flag Raised

1 June 2012 (Moe's Original Bar B Que, Englewood CO)

This show was a great example of the relationship between bands and their fan base. Three of the bands were local and each brought in their own crowds. Opening act White Flag Raised pulled the biggest crowd, packing the floor with enthusiastic friends. They were clearly in the honeymoon phase of their band's development. Blind Brilliance and Convalescents' audience seemed more established.

By contrast, touring band Arison Cain didn't draw a lot of people. They didn't tone down their playing, but it showed how tough it is to tour far from home.

White Flag Raised

White Flag Raised billed themselves as alternative rock, but this show emphasized their punk and garage sounds. They brought a number of originals, including the religiously themed Prodigal Son, but their covers elicited the biggest audience response. Their punk cover of Under the Sea, from Disney's The Little Mermaid, was a high energy romp for everyone's amusement. They got the strongest crowd reaction with their version of Weezer's Beverly Hills.

As a fairly young band, White Flag Raised is still developing their stage presence. Lanky Ben Weir acts as the focused front man as he plays his bass, letting guitarist Josh Smith provide the stage dynamics. I've gotten more of a sense of the band from their web presence than their show. Fortunately, their fans could feed back enough love to help the band keep their momentum.

It was a fun set, albeit a little rough. Punk is a fairly forgiving style, but they still needed to tighten their arrangements.

Blind Brilliance

Blind Brilliance cuts straight to the core with the most classic of configurations, the power trio. They nail the clean polished sound of pop punk, but all the cathartic release of traditional punk rock.

Every band has their own presence, but this was a strong contrast to the opening act. Frontman Steven Zimmerman confidently punched his guitar parts, but also showed off his sense of humor and personality. In between vocal parts, he'd drop back to commune with the drummer or stare down the bass player.

As the band maintained their steady pace through their setlist, Max Points was a study in Brownian motion as he drifted around the stage with his bass. The visual dynamics combined with the full sound to produce a sonic wall worthy of a larger band. Patrick Milburn's drumming laid the framework for that wall. Head down, he pounded his kit with a heavy hand, but still fit in some great fills.

Blind Brilliance has a CD releasing later this month and their original music was all fairly strong. Still, their punk cover of I Just Can't Wait to be King from Disney's The Lion King proved to be a crowd pleaser. That would have been enough to win the audience, but the band's instinctive sense of showmanship came through when Zimmerman crossed the stage to push Points away from his mic so he could sing his line there.

Arison Cain

Arison Cain caught a tough break when the audience evaporated before their set. Dead gigs like this are painful, but they're the true test of a band. It takes a lot to overcome the inertia and bring on the rock. Despite the empty room, Arison Cain played a powerful set. Their motto should have been "no crowd, but no surrender".

The band kept their own energy up with a loud stage volume that complemented their strong, hard rock sound. Even when they mixed in some country tinged rock and thoughtful guitar dynamics, the interludes passed back into driving rock. Many of the songs showed off Arison Cain's witty lyrics.

Frontman Arison Cain's website calls his band The Halfway Home Orchestra, but onstage he referred to the band using his own name. Either way, Cain's quirky personality came through. During the songs, he was brash and outgoing. He spent half his time rising up on tip toes just to maintain his forward momentum. Between songs, his patter was droll and self deprecating.

He was a quick thinker, too. Calling back to the earlier sets, he said, "Nobody told me this was a fucking Disney cover show. I had to figure it out on my own". Then he dove into an a capella version of A Whole New World from Disney's Aladdin, with some backing harmony from the bass player, Toby Noll.

Noll's bass drove much of the mix and he proved to be good foil for Cain's persona. Noll had some smart ass attitude, but his ready grin kept the mood light. Their stage presence balanced out drummer Tyler Townsend and second guitarist Shawn Van Brocklin who were more inwardly focused. Van Brocklin contributed more guitar texture and haze than straight lead.

I don't know whether it's characteristic, but the band tended to drag out the song endings, so people didn't have a clear signal to respond to the band before the next song started. It might have been a defensive move since there were so few us. They may not have wanted any pity, but they earned our respect.

Convalescents

Convalescents avoided Arison Cain's fate as their fans filtered in during the sound check. The solid turnout energized the band to hit the anthemic sound of their recordings. Recently, I've reviewed Convalescents' new album, Armageddon as well as their earlier incarnation as DB and the Catastrophe (review). The band matched the pace of the new album as they filled their set with material from both eras and challenged us all to keep up.

As on the record, frontman Dylan Busby's vocals often reached for a Billie Joe Armstrong feel, matched by the Green Day drive of the guitars. Leaning out at the audience, his vocals and guitar thrash anchored the band's sound. Lead guitarist Gideon Priegel laid down solid riffs; each one seemed carefully worked out to keep the songs zipping by. The guitars and vocals were muddy in the mix at Moe's, but Convalescents' playing proved to be every bit as tight as their recording.

As fine as Busby and Priegel were, the band's rhythm section was the real secret weapon.

Bassist Eric Lehman defined in-the-pocket playing. His melodic bass fills often added power to the chord changes. When he got to show off a little bit, like his John Entwistle style runs at the start of Broken, it was a treat.

But I was most impressed with drummer Ben Duncan. It's easy to overlook drummers in the back of the stage. As a guitarist, I often take drumming a little bit for granted. But no one could ignore Duncan. Technically, he was one of the fastest drummers I've heard. His kick work sounded like a double bass pedal and he could throw in double time fills or even rolls where a fast drummer would use a single strike. His technique stayed fully in service to the songs, though. The speedy fills and rolls stayed within the core rhythm, giving the drums a busy drive without falling into "drum solo mode" and obscuring the basic beat. Normally, I think "less is more", but now I know that more can be so much more.

The Convalescents' set was focused on the quality of their playing and their work showed. Without slipping into shoegazer introspection, their most joyous moments came when they knew they were nailing the song.


More photos on my Flickr.