As Tim Minchin slurs in an episode of Californication, “Elton John is a fucking god.” Few today really appreciate Elton John for the right reasons. Sure he did “The Lion King”, sure he’s got some iconic tracks we all know, and sure half those iconic tracks are cheesy and easy to dismiss.
But if any creeping doubts emerge in the millennial mind that Elton John isn’t on par with The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, etc. as one of the greatest artists in pop history both critically and commercial, then go listen to his great early live album “17-11-70″. Recorded on the titular date, the recording predates the addition of guitarist Davey Johnstone to John’s live band, but does include the classic rhythm section of Dee Murray and Nigel Olsson. The piano-bass-drums trio create a surprisingly full sound, and the band dynamic showcases what John’s ultimate strength was: Musicianship. Yes the man can write a melody, and yes Bernie Taupin’s lyrics are memorable, but ultimately the moments that stand out in Elton John’s career are those when he and his classic band rip through classic jams like “Funeral For Friend/Love Lies Bleeding” or “Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy”.
Any fan of rock and roll, die hards and skeptics, all should check out this stellar microcosm that showcases the live power of one of the 20th century’s most legendary artists.
Tremolos galore adorn “Don’t Fall in Love” by Still Corners, and while this isn’t an at all surprising fact, it’s probably one of finest examples of Greg Hughes’ mastery of guitar effects. The song is extremely indebted to the 50s psych meanderings of The Jesus and Mary Chain, kicking and echoing in that neo-Phil Spector way that seems increasingly popular these days.
"Don’t Fall in Love” is solid, but the only thing keeping it from greatness is that it’s just too damn long. At about the three minute mark of this four minute song I expected to hear the closing chords, and thought to myself “Ah yes, this is the perfect moment to end on!”
Then the song continued for another unnecessary and redundant minute. Now this isn’t a travesty, because the groove is good enough to carry this minute along just fine. But Still Corners seems to have forgotten the rule that you should always keep people wanting more.
Yup, there’s a harmonica featured prominently in this song. And while that’s cool and all, it’s really the last thing that makes this song a borderline classic. Electro-rock duo The Helio Sequence, one half of which also drums for Modest Mouse, has been one of the most underrated acts of recent years, and “Harmonica Song” is easily the masterpiece of their early career. Lennon esque vocal lines, a throbbing bass line, shimmering synths and pounding drums coalesce into one of the best grooves the genre has to offer. Scratch that, one of the best grooves ANY genre has to offer.
So I name dropped this band yesterday, and that reminded me that they had a new album I had yet to check out. And lo, it is awesome. Nigel & The Dropout, unlike many bands dabbling in electronic rock, has continued to grow and expand their sound. The same gritty guitar crunch and lo-fi synth shimmer remain, yet on “Folderal” they’ve expanded both into more of an indie rock arena as well as that of traditional EDM.
“Gestalt”, the lead single, earns that distinction by relentlessly chugging along, Dirtbombs-esque percussive guitars and nasty synths working in tandem. The elements layer on throughout, as any good electronic song dictates, but at it’s heart the track is a straightforward rocker. This is what garage rock from the future sounds like, and it’s happening now.
GENRE: Electronic, Rock, Alternative, Garage Rock, Lo-Fi
Sektor Z is hard to describe. Is he a DJ? A guitarist? Another Detroit product who blends homegrown rock influence with Detroit techno ala Muzzy Bearr (a fairly unspectacular artist who occasionally stumbles upon a brilliant mix of soul and dubstep) or Nigel & The Dropout (a kickass duo who has been featured before on this site)? Sure that’s been the new sound of Detroit for a few years now, with acts like Dale Earnhardt Jr. Jr. graduating to major labels, and each act has their own spin on the mixture of rock and electronic, some leaning much more in one direction than the other. And while this mixture may seem cutting edge, as Jr. Jr.’s latest record indicates, it still hasn’t formed a strong enough identity to be called a movement (anyone who has frequented the Detroit electronic scene should appreciate that joke).
The disparate nature of the aforementioned acts isn’t a knock against the scene itself, in fact the hallmark of a good music city, be it Seattle in the 90s, San Francisco in the 60s, New York in the 70s or the Detroit scenes of years past in the 60s and 00s, is variety and idiosyncrasy. The recipe is brewing, and I’m excited to see what the city has to offer in a few years once the burgeoning scene gestates a bit more, as live instrumentation continues to be integrated into the electronic music realm in a new, dirty, uniquely Detroit way.
Sektor Z seems to be on the right track in this respect. The jam band influence of bands like Umphrey’s McGee and The String Cheese Incident is palpable, and while that may not seem like a very Motown way to go, let a native son enlighten you, dear reader. Detroit, thanks to it’s proximity to Canada, has always been a city full of various psychedelic substances, which helps explain the massive rave culture there. Combine this with the new festival culture, especially with the area’s access to festivals like Electric Forest and Lollapalooza, and the jam direction makes a lot of sense.
The swirling guitar licks serve as a counterpoint to the grimy space age blasts of fuzzy bass that drive “Confrontational Escape”, while synths fill in necessary textures throughout. Do I wish that the guitar got a little dirtier? Sure but I also wish the guitar was dirtier in pretty much every album I’ve ever heard.
Track one, “Cognitive Dissonance” serves as an intriguing introduction to Sektor Z’s style. The Prince-esque guitar plunks give way to a subtle boom bap, reminiscent of the 80s but with a post-post-modern sense of awareness missing from a lot of similarly influenced artists. Take a listen to the goofy synths that enter around the two minute mark. They get your head bobbing in a way that is sure to slap a stupid smile on your face. Its the kind of groove that makes me want to become a cartoon character and strut down the street.
Kineticism and propulsion seem to be the two most important factors to Sektor Z, who advertises himself as space in every way. He’s a space man from outer space making spaced out space music, and I can confirm that with the right amount of THC flowing through my bloodstream I felt the energy of the music hurtling forward. The wide stereo width is used expertly along the driving bass, and it keeps the music interesting, especially on “To Bear the Burden of an Over-Analytical Mind” and “There is No Such Thing as a Comfort Zone”.
“Home is My Cockpit” is probably the weakest song on the EP, but only in that it serves the thankless role of switching up the pace. The lackadaisical groove is expertly done, but after following “Comfort Zone”, easily the most head spinning track it seems a bit underwhelming. I respect this decision in the context of the album as a whole, however I do think the song could have been a bit more... well, spaced out.
Overall, “Confrontational Escape” is an encouraging debut that attempts to push the boundaries of music today beyond the inane button pushing that has passed for live performance of late. The one thing this music is missing is an emotional through line, and spoken word samples or a vocalist would greatly aid this. It’s hard for me personally as a music listener to attach emotionally to instrumental music of this kind, and since prominent leads would distract from the concept it’s hard to compensate. Yet the mixture of rock and electronic set forward here is such a great bedrock to build from it won’t surprise me a bit if Sektor Z’s music grows and develops into something deeply affective.
Oh, Stone Temple Pilots. Never has a band been so unfairly treated by the media while also being almost ubiquitously accepted as a good band by serious music fans, and criminally unknown by casual listeners. I once met Scott Weiland, his wife and child (really, really nice people), and nobody I was with later that day knew who or what Stone Temple Pilots was. I sang some lines from “Plush”, “Vasoline” and “Interstate Love Song” and everyone was like “Oh yeah... I’ve heard that.”
Of course you have. STP weathered the storm of baseless hatred from the music press precisely because they were actually good. Debut album “Core” was accused of being a Pearl Jam rip off, when for some reason nobody drew the connection that Brendan O’Brien produced and mixed both bands, and STP just so happened to be from San Diego, Eddie Vedder’s hometown. Sure, “Core” can be kind of lunk-headed and stupid at times thanks to some lyrics that try too hard, but faulting a band for immaturity when everything else is so good seems kind of silly (especially considering the content of Nirvana’s debut, “Bleach”, a far more lunk-headed and stupid album than “Core”).
The album that proved that to everyone, including myself, once for all that STP was actually respectable was “Tiny Music... Songs From the Vatican Gift Shop”. For anyone who doesn’t know, that album contains “Trippin’ on a Hole in a Paper Heart” which is easily one of the most powerful songs I’ve ever heard, as well as one of the hardest rocking.
But before “Tiny Music” and after “Core” was “Purple” a transition album if I’ve ever heard one. It maintains the reverb heavy sludge of Core, albeit a bit cleaner, while pushing forward in a more psychedelic, eclectic manner. Chock full of hits, the album was one I overlooked for a long time. I used to love “Interstate Love Song”, and I very much like the other radio hits on the LP, but it just seemed a bit too clean while not committing to the sparser sound of “Tiny Music”.
Then I re-listened to it and heard this song, “Silvergun Superman”. Oh, boy is it nice when you find a song you don’t remember by a band you like a lot, and it kicks ass. From it’s stone age riff that sounds like they took the first half of “Night Goat” by Melvins’ famous lick and chopped off the ascension, to the rollicking verses and the contrasting refrain, chock full of poly-rhythms, “Silvergun Superman” is simply a great straight forward rock song.
Additionally it showcases the skill that STP has in crafting their songs, effectively withholding releases of tension and expertly layering elements in the song structure, the band nails every point of emphasis and expertly employs subtle restraint. The song collapses into a heaving beautiful mess, sure to fuck with any high kids in the audience, as I’m sure was intended.
GENRE: Grunge, Alternative Rock, Rock, Psychedelic Rock
I’ve grown less and less fond of rap as I’ve grown older. As a child of Elvis, The Beatles, Wes Montgomery and Gordon Lightfoot, my transition into hip hop was a natural act of rebellion to the musical canon I’d grown bored of. Any longtime reader of this blog will notice that the pages were once filled with a significantly higher number of hip hop posts as compared to rock and roll, but that ratio has slowly changed. As I started learning more about myself, life and it’s misery, etc. I began to return to the idea that music should provide catharsis, something rap simply does not do.
This isn’t to say I find rap a lesser genre of music. Okay well, actually that is exactly what I’m saying, but only in that rap functionally is handicapped. Hip hop is egotistical music, not just in terms of it’s braggadocio but psychoanalytically speaking as well. Rap focuses on wordplay and cleverness, often relying on highly complex webs of reference that can be intellectually fascinating in the hands of artists like Das Racist. But rap lacks the id that rock and roll centers on. Instead of feeling we get thought, and often the thoughts aren’t very deep. Beyond this, few rappers today are actually taking chances, and the ones that do take chances are quite often defeated by their own lameness (Drake, Lil’ Wayne).
This brings us to Cities Aviv. Since this blog began I’ve been preaching his gospel. His track “Araw” would be the finest rap song of this century if Das Racist had never existed. In other words it’s a masterpiece, and his repertoire has expanded in both the direction of ragged experimentalism, as well as that of classical formalism. Aviv finds a genius aural blend of rough hewn and dissonant textures, atypical song structure and intentionally distressing beats, while also understanding better than almost any rapper alive what makes hip hop work in terms of it’s fundamental enjoyment.
“Isolation Quarters (Juk)” is his latest work of wonder. Opening with an Oneohtrix Point Never-esque soundscape of clashing noise, it slowly unfolds into about the tastiest groove possible, finding a perfect balance between the aforementioned avant garde noise and classic hip hop.
Iconoclast that he is, Cities Aviv has taken to obscuring his vocals with effects and reverb, making them often unintelligible without the right amount of intense focus/the right cocktail of psychoactive substances flowing through your veins. If anyone today is trying to bring rap into the realm of the id, the place where music holds actual emotional meaning beyond grandstanding and posturing (the only two things that “meaningful” songs like Tupac’s “Mama” or Eminem’s “When I’m Gone” achieve instead of the emotional gut punch they strive for) it’s Cities Aviv. All hail the greatest rapper that nobody has heard of.
GENRE: Hip Hop, Rap, Experimental, Noise, Electronic Avant Garde
Anyone who likes hard panning in their stereo field will like this song. Anyone who likes rock and roll that kicks you in the testicles and doesn’t apologize will like this song. Anyone who likes music should really like this song.
I don’t know how, but I was unfamiliar with “A Song for the Dead” until six months ago, when I went and gave Queens of the Stone Age’s seminal album “Songs for the Deaf” a listen for the first time in years. Anyone familiar with the band should already know that Josh Homme originally wished for Mark Lanegan to be the group’s primary vocalist. And this track shows why.
Lanegan, the fickle drunk poet that he is, only shows up on one or two tracks per QOTSA album, and while Homme has grown into formidable front-man in his own right, “A Song for the Dead” shows the fanboys what may have been. Homme’s backing vocals are appropriately eerie while Lanegan’s Tom Waits by way of Wilson Pickett growl is ominously fueled by testosterone, a powerhouse vocal performance that perfectly matches the absurdity of the song’s production.
Dave Grohl’s drums are panned hard left for much of the song, but most everything here gets tossed every which way, right, left and center. As a result, the famously compressed QOTSA production works pretty well, making the drums intelligible and weighty in spite of their only being in one channel much of the time. (Is that a piccolo snare or is it just the way they’ve mixed the drums? Who knows.) On the subject of those drums, this is easily one of Grohl’s most distinguished QOTSA contributions. The rest of the cast holds their own with Grohl and Lanegan, with Homme’s guitar never getting too flashy but always providing the perfect release of tension whenever needed. Nick Oliveri, normally a fairly unspectacular bass player, locks in well with Grohl, making this one of the best full band performances in their repertoire.
Ultimately, like any good rock song it comes down to the riff, and it’s a doozy. With the ambition of the production, the quality of the performances, and one of the most slick hooks the band has come up with, it’s arguable that “A Song for the Dead” rivals “Fairweather Friends” as QOTSA’s finest achievement. In fact I’ll say it right now, it’s their best song. So far, at least.
GENRE: Rock, Desert Rock, Psychedelic Rock, Grunge
Fidlar is one of the better bands in the current pack of Nirvana-aping, pseudo-low fidelity garage punks that are seeking to reclaim the mantle of indie rock from the electro-pop usurpers. Obviously indie is no longer a relevant distinction, somehow becoming even more gentrified and muddled than alternative. Yet it’s worth noting how bands like Fidlar, or their aforementioned peers, Cloud Nothings, Waaves, Japandroids, Bleached, etc etc etc so doggedly pursue that lost aesthetic.
The semblance that Fidlar has recorded this in a garage out of necessity is preserved by their deliberate production. Obviously it’s an affect, but a well done one. Sure, it’s a throwback, but it’s clearly not pretending to be anything else. The key to evaluating a song like “40oz. on Repeat” is to gauge how much fun the band is having, and Fidlar clearly is having a blast.
Modest Mouse’s drummer and some dude comprise an electronic-rock band known as The Helio Sequence. This is a band that, unless you’ve already heard “The Harmonica Song”, you probably would think is lame. But as the aforementioned ode to mouth organs attests, you would be mistake. The Helio Sequence is a band I wish I had been paying attention to.
“Stoic Resemblance” was the lead single from their self titled effort which dropped earlier this year. A perfect blend of chillwavey synths and guitars, rock drums and 50s doo-wop sentiment (”Oh na-na-na”), “Stoic Resemblance” charges forward like a beautiful robot posing as a beast of burden. Does that make any sense? Of course not, bro. It’s a metaphor.
Even so, this song is good and you should listen to it.
New York City has always been a hotbed for searing, feedback-laden punk rock since The Stooges and Patti Smith packed up and left Detroit to find a new home at the CBGB. From them on down through Sonic Youth and Yeah Yeah Yeahs, there’s a distinctly grimey New York sound that is often overshadowed by the many many other rock bands that call the big apple home.
Well, Vomitface is of that same dirty vein. Some critics have proclaimed them grunge saviors, which is a bit premature and silly (the music press’ calling cards). Sure, Vomitface clearly listened to Nirvana’s “Bleach” and thought to themselves “What if we could find a girl who drums like Chad Channing and a guy who can basically do what Krist Novoselic does on ‘Paper Cuts’?”
But just like grunge bands hated their label for it’s meaningless nature, the word simply doesn’t describe Vomitface. First, they clearly have a broader set of influences, ranging from the aforementioned NYC titans, Sonic Youth and Yeah Yeah Yeahs, as well as early White Zombie, The Dirtbombs, Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, etc. And yes, Mudhoney, the Melvins and the dirtier side of Seattle grunge is present, while Pearl Jam and Soundgarden’s classic rock mentality has meanwhile been discarded.
Why argue genre distinctions though? No matter what you call it, from grunge to their self-applied “Black Surf Avant Grunge Sludge Pop”, Vomitface is loud and nasty. Precision isn’t something the band is particularly interested in as evidenced by Preetma Singh’s drums which both call back to the caveman aesthetics of Meg White (this being a good thing) as well as punky rhythms of Murph from Dinosaur Jr., as well as the faux-slop of Jared Micah’s guitar playing. Some might say it could do to be sloppier and noisier. Okay, I’m saying that.
Anyway, just try and get this track out of your head.
GENRE: Black Surf Avant Grunge Sludge Pop, Grunge, Alternative, Rock
Eyes Wide, Tongue Tied - The Fratellis (Album Review)
A few years ago then contributor Ben Foerg and I reviewed “We Need Medicine”, The Fratellis’ first record since their initial breakup. In that review we noted that the band’s reforming was likely more of a financial decision than an artistic one, after the commercial failure of singer/guitarist Jon Lawler/Fratelli’s solo efforts [1].
And who can fault them? I’m certainly glad that the band is back together, because if that hadn’t happened (judging by the scrapping of his second solo album) we’d likely not have access to one of the best and most under-appreciated songwriters of his generation. That’s right, I know what a bold statement that is, and I’ll stand by it. And in order to understand “Eyes Wide, Tongue Tied”, the newest release from Lawler and company, it may be useful to offer some context.
If one looks back at the over hyped “Post-Whatever Revival” of the early 00′s, it’s clear that the media’s declaration of a new rock renaissance and anointed successor to the psychedelic rock of the 60s and grunge of the 90s, was a bit premature. Bands like The Strokes and The Killers never rose to meet the lofty expectations placed on them by the press (in this reviewers eyes at least). Other bands like The Vines, The Hives, Franz Ferdinand, Arctic Monkeys and Wolf Parade may have had some great songs but nobody in their right mind would consider these acts to be “legendary” in the same way we do Nirvana, Bruce Springsteen, etc.
Yet a few acts earned their place in the limelight. The White Stripes are one of the best bands, if not the best band, to hit their prime in my lifetime [2]. Jack White is rock and roll royalty, deservedly so, and his influence on the current generation is only rivaled by Josh Homme’s. [3]
Along with The White Stripes stands the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s, and guitarist Nick Zinner is criminally overshadowed both by Karen O’s cult and Jack White’s stylistic similarity.
The point is, other than these two acts, can anyone name me another “legendary” act? Black Rebel Motorcycle Club never broke through commercially enough to earn that sort of cache. The Black Keys, well... They just suck. This brings us, finally to The Fratellis.
In 2006, The Fratellis arrived in America with as much hype as any other band of the era, and their first album, “Costello Music” proved to be both commercially and critically successful, spawning everyone’s favorite sports arena anthem “Chelsea Dagger”, and everyone’s favorite iPod commercial song, “Flathead” as singles. Digging deeper one finds the album holds up remarkably well. Tracks like “Creepin’ Up the Backstairs”, “For the Girl” and “Everybody Knows You Cried Last Night” showcased the blend of folk and punk that still defines the Fratellis’ aesthetic.
Then their second album happened. “Here We Stand” is by no means a bad album, with psychedelic jam “My Friend John” and piano heavy “A Heady Tale” being the two most notable tracks. Lead single “Mistress Mabel” wasn’t bad either but something was missing. The rambunctious energy and raw production of Costello Music was replaced with more “mature” material and some pretty lackluster production from the band. Lawler sounds disinterested much of the time, and without a good producer to shape their sound into anything beyond serviceable a lot of well written songs go to waste. Most apparently, “Tell Me a Lie” is easily one of the heaviest songs in the Fratellis’ catalog, but it’s undercut by a radio friendly guitar tone and a mixing and mastering job that is far too clean. Jon Fratelli’s solo efforts that followed barely garnered an American release [4].
So nobody bought these albums and The Fratellis seemed destined to fade into music history, a footnote. Yet, if one looks at Lawler’s catalog it becomes clear (to me at least) that the only figure of his generation who rivals his songwriting and personality is Jack White. Yes, Jack White and Jon Lawler should be considered peers, the cream of the crop. Yet Lawler and his band are barely in the conversation. Meanwhile Alex Turner, Dan Auerbach and Brendan Flowers are still having praised heaped upon them from the adulating music press, in spite of their distinct mediocrity.
The band is instead pegged a one hit wonder, and commercially that’s certainly true. But while Glasgow scene comrades Franz Ferdinand managed to maintain a cult following, The Fratellis hardly register on the radar of the 2015 music listener.
So when the band reformed people generally shrugged and went about their business. I myself was pretty unhappy with the reformation, as I expected a regression in quality from Lawler’s solo work [5]. Obviously, I was in the minority, and when “We Need Medicine” dropped in 2013 I was pleasantly surprised by how good it was.
Not only was this album far better than “Here We Stand” it rivaled “Costello Music” in many ways. The rambunctious energy was back, the band sounded like they were actually having fun. From the mariachi inspired guitar lick on “This Old Ghost Town” to the staggeringly good power ballad “Rock and Roll Will Break Your Heart” to the relentless album closer “Until She Saves My Soul” the album was chock full of songs that not only kicked ass, but were musically the most adventurous work the band had done so far. A year later followed the EP “Soul Crush”, three solid songs, the most impressive of which was the title track.
And now, finally, we get to their present release. Why run you through all this context? Because while “Eyes Wide, Tongue Tied” may be a good album, it’s certainly a confounding one. A first listen will find it disappointing in the wake of “We Need Medicine” and “Soul Crush” (especially if one considers that those releases were good enough that “Eyes Wide, Tongue Tied” has actually received a decent amount of media attention comparatively).
It seems The Fratellis and producer Tony Hoffer (Costello Music, Psycho Jukebox) intend to mount a commercial comeback with this album, and it’s a gambit that just may work. “Me and the Devil” is tailored to fit in perfectly with today’s alternative radio format, while still retaining a degree of integrity. With this track Lawler essentially shows the new kids on the black how a pro gets the job done. Not only does the song, with it’s dirge-like build and atmospheric production, market itself well to any white bread fan of Imagine Dragons or Mumford and Sons, it does what most acts today are doing far better than anyone else. It both injects the genre with some much needed personality, but also ironically mocks the current alternative paradigm and the bands foolhardy attempt to maintain relevance, with the chorus chant of “I’m gonna sell this soul of mine.”
The best track on the album is easily “Baby, Don’t You Lie to Me!” an absolute ripper that is both a throwback to the classic amphetamine-crazed Fratellis punk of their first album, but also a heavier and more aurally textured song than anything on “We Need Medicine”. It’s a bit too compressed, sure, but I can forgive a shoddy mastering job when a song has this line: “Life for you could be so easy/If you’d only shut your mouth”.
Lyrically the song is sure to piss off some third wave feminists, but that’s always been Lawler’s modus operandi: an honest appraisal of the male perspective. For every tender love ballad he’s ever written, Lawler has a bawdy anthem that has led to some critics accusing him of misogynism. Yet in spite of “Baby, Don’t You Lie to Me!” containing lyrics such as “I’ll dig you out of a hole when your ignorance shows” and “Drag my name and reputation over the cold, hard stones/Break my heart up into pieces, honey, shatter my bones” it in reality paints a portrait of a man defeated by love. His frankness is refreshing, as the ultimate message of the song is a plea for mercy from a woman he loves.
Proof of Lawler’s tender side comes through in the albums ballads, of which it is mostly comprised. This is a much more relaxed album than it’s predecessor, in fact in some ways it’s reminiscent of “Here We Stand”. Except where that album was lackluster, the production and songwriting on “Eyes Wide, Tongue Tied” is the most lush and adventurous in the bands catalog.
Lyrically the album is yet another example of Lawler’s masterful songwriting prowess. Tracks like “Slow” and “Impostors (Little By Little)” are some of the best songs in his repertoire lyrically, but also showcase a more restrained side of the band. Then there’s “Too Much Wine” which is a classic Fratellis bar anthem with lyrics meeting the exact expectations one can draw from the title.
Really Jon Lawler could be considered the king of drunk-psychedelia. His music is so clearly perfect for a night out drinking, and not just because of the rollicking good time he has with his lyrics. Take the Stevie Wonder indebted “Dogtown”. The funky groove sets in and builds through to the refrain, which is immediately followed by a jaunty New Orleans horn section. It’s as if the song has suddenly gotten drunk. Then listen to “Thief” with it’s similarly indebted to the past riff, somehow made new and fresh by Hoffer’s production, and tell me it doesn’t sound like the perfect song to play when one has the spins and is trying to rally.
Ultimately the album is a solid effort, there really isn’t any bad material here. Even when the melodies falter a bit more than on previous efforts, the lyrics pull the song through. And don’t underestimate this bands knack for ear worms as “Thief” attests. But in spite of all the adventurous meandering and aesthetic detail, the album doesn’t feature the same level of... kickass-ery? Other than “Baby Don’t You Lie to Me!” the album is a bit restrained when compared to what one expects from The Fratellis.
Then again I don’t think Jon Lawler gives a shit. And the fact that he does whatever he wants to do, exactly as he wants to do it, will likely cause this album to grow on me. It will also certainly leave me anxiously anticipating the band’s next effort.
- Josh Loney
ANNOTATIONS:
[1] “Psycho Jukebox”, Lawler’s solo album was criminally under promoted by the record label, and never found and audience. That being said, the album is easily some of the best work of his career. Preceding his solo release was side project Codeine Velvet Club’s self titled debut, another absolutely stellar album.
[2] As a native Detroiter, I caught the tail end of the Detroit scene that birthed The White Stripes, and that was very, very cool. The city was rockin’ for a while, with acts like The Dirtbombs, The Hard Lessons and The Von Bondies never quite making it to the national stage.
[3] Notably, I don’t consider Queens of the Stone Age to really be peers of these other bands, in spite of their existing in the same era. That’s a grunge band through and through, based on personnel and aesthetic.
[4] I had the Scottish edition of the CD imported because I couldn’t find it anywhere, even on American online music retailers like iTunes. It wouldn’t appear stateside until a few months later.
[5] The lack of attention paid to these albums is staggering. It’s not like I’m bitching about the fact it didn’t crack the Top 25. I’m bitching about the fact that a song like “Sex Love Money and Death” isn’t available ANYWHERE on the internet in a high quality format. It can’t be bought or torrented. The only version that exists is a lossy 128 kbps mp3, which seems to be the best we’ll ever get. Which is a shame because “Sex Love Money and Death” is probably the best song Lawler will ever write. Additionally, “The Magic Hour EP” is similarly only available in 128 kbps.
Intriguingly, Lawler’s band on “Psycho Jukebox” is just Codeine Velvet Club minus the brass section and second singer Lou Hickey. And the rhythm section of Ross MacFarlane and Lewis Gordon is absolutely fucking killer. They blow Barry and Mince Fratelli, a solid rhythm section in their own right, out of the water.
“Gojira” opens with the titular lizard’s classic screech, then a split second of silence before a perfectly monstrous descending riff slams into frame. the groove lurches about like a drunken Rage Against the Machine lick lumbering through the streets in search of destruction. Lyrically the message seems to be at least intriguing, and while it’s clear that english is not these Austrian rocker’s first language, any song that delivers a line like “Hit that button/Blow him to ashes/Nuke that fucker ‘til he collapses” with the right amount of conviction and irony is a winner in my book. “Gojira” reminds me of the days when people thought heavy rock was fun and dumb, instead of some overly-somber festival of pain.
This boggy gothic swamp-rock jam grooves so well that it will almost make you forget that you’ve heard these lyrics before, and from the lips of one of music’s most iconic singers nonetheless. In other words, if you like Led Zeppelin and Voodoo, this track is for you.
