Gus Black
Autumn Days
2006
Cheap Lullabye Records

L.A.’s Gus Black has been around for awhile, cultivating a small but loyal cult following of listeners who appreciate screwed-up, heartfelt balladry and tasty, ear-stroking pop hooks. Autumn Days (not out ‘til March 21, but he’s got plenty of back catalog to tide you over ‘til then ...) finds him and his band (Rocco Bidlovski on drums, Gianni Nelviller on bass and Luther Russell on guitar and piano) stirring up another mouth-watering batch of (mostly) melancholy tunes that recall both the harsh, soul-searching cry that wends so precisely through the music of Elliot Smith and the dark, brittle pop brilliance of mid-period Badfinger.

From the spare, almost shy opening acoustic licks of “Don’t Go Tellin’ The Whole World,” with its shrug-and-sigh vibe and lines like, “Don’t go tellin’ the whole world how you ache/ For a sun that’s so bright at night/ Don’t go tellin’ the whole world/ How you break, it’s a cold autumn night ...” to the uplifting, snare-encrusted groove of “Trillion Things,” Autumn Days is a perfect mid-winter treat, replete with tracks that alternately offer warmth and solace and exhilarating, cheek-reddening blasts of fresh, icy musical air.

Other greats here include the wistful caress of “Traffic And Sound” (“Now that we’re gold/ Chasin’ dogs in the snow/ I don’t know, I thought it twice/ Chemicals, perfect eyes, it’s casual, casual/ High hopes, high hopes/ Come back around, off this rope-a-dope/ Of traffic and sound ...” Both painfully self-aware and universal in its ache, this tune perfectly encapsulates the almost insidious knack Gus (both the guy and the band) has for bringing those chemical reactions he sings of rushing headlong out of your heart and head and off for the arms and soul of your natural mate.

“Weekend Soldier” might seem fairly obvious at first, but here, too, Black reveals both a deeper psychological understanding of the pain and longing inherent in True Love than most will ever experience, as well as an almost terrifying ken for rehashing a long-buried pop hook. It’s way in the background of this song, but if you listen closely, you’ll hear echos of the ‘70’s pop nugget “Sometimes When We Touch,” by Dan Hill—and THAT’S a strange combo, Black crooning, “I’m a weekend soldier from Tennessee ... on a killing spree ...” to the vague echos of “And sometimes when we touch, the honesty’s too much, and I have to close my eyes and hide ...” Or maybe I just haven’t been getting enough sleep lately.

Though Black openly admits in this press kit that he’s written an album here for a breakup, he also adds this caveat: “It’s the twisted torment of a failed relationship crashing into a new beginning.” And that, my friends, is about as close to the True, inner battle that Love—Real Love, Soul Love, Romantic Love—is all about. Will you win? Maybe. But only if you open yourself up to the possibility of getting your fucking heart torn out —bloody, beating and crooning Gus Black lyrics—by yet another wicked lover’s faithless, uncaring hands.

Ya never know—there’s a reason silly humans keep searching for that perfect Love, even shattered, twisted dreamers like Gus. This is real Valentine’s Day music for people who know and understand the value of being alone and longing, as well as the perfect, awe-inspiring wonderment of Togetherness. Me? I LOVE this album ... check it out at GusMusic.com or MySpace.com/GusBlack an’ hear for yourself.

The Guillitene
Torture Chamber
2005
Bodystakentertainment

Rollin’ outta the withered, winter corn fields of Northern Indiana like some righteously vengeful, dark wing of Truth, Justice and the One Love way, The Guillitene are a tight unit of streetwise wordsmiths, accomplished beat-maestros and inventive songcrafters. Fronted by the enigmatic, driven Black Dah, this outfit lays waste to any claims that decent, thought-provoking, entertaining, from-the-gut rap and R&B needs to come from one rotting coast or another of our fine, damaged land.

This isn’t music for the trendy, or the fashion-conscious, or the one-hit wonder fans who’ve helped the fuznit scuznits at the major labels reduce pop music from a mighty art form to a momentary (repeated) lapse of all reason, sanity and good taste. Naw, these cats lay down magical, rural ghetto raps over music that ranges from soft and soothing to edgy and paranoid to grungy and dark as the nights that inspired them.

Stand-out cuts (featuring the formidable talents of Black Dah, Quade, Drunk-Tank, Big Jilla and Gat-One, along with several key guests, including Jah-Bo and 2 Signs Of Death) here are too numerous to mention with any thoroughness, but some fairly jump right out of your speakers and bitch slap you with all the power of an electric shock or an unexpected, late-night rousting from your local 5-0. “Psychophrenia” kicks off with ‘noidy keys, spine-tingling riffs, and the double-team blow-down of Dah and Quade tradin’ off lyrical licks like two fresh word-slingers about to stroll down Badd Alley for a pre-dawn
showdown.

This ain’t no run of the mill, “We got mo’ betta than ya’ll” or “We gon’ cap ya’ll” or “We so pimpin’ motherfuckers” bullshit, though. Dah’s rhymes are filled with the kind of sentiment and soul that sets apart some of his contemporary counterparts (yea, even Eminem has that vibe goin’ these days) from the average rap/R&B corporate shill. That doesn’t mean he and the crew aren’t loud, proud and down with the shit that matters to them and their peeps, though.

Frankly, the very fact that this collective is so fiercely independent, so urgent, in the moment, and surrounded by that universal Light, makes them all the more attractive musically. And the music! This music isn’t what you’d hear your average, ignorant wigger or bling-blinded neighbor-hoodie thumpin’ merrily along to, either. Guitars, pyschedelic keyboards, challenging beats and almost otherworldly scatting make this collection (hopefully) something that just might spark a much-needed revolution in a musical genre that’s rapidly becoming (at least in the majors) a tired, repetitive, boring force that’s been so castrated and homogenized that it’s actually doing the people it was created to represent absolutely no fucking good whatsoever.

So where’s the Love, you ask? It’s in every beat, every line, every key-run, every silence between the notes on this album. Love for family, Love for friends, Love for a Higher Power, Love for self, Love for lovers ... for just a taste, dive into the mystical pool that is “Farewell,” as Dah solemnly intones (in a really freaky, Pink Floyd kinda way—find THAT in your average rap joint, yo), “Why must we carry on like we have never cried before?/ You make it hard for me to say goodbye/ Are you behind these tears I cry at night?”

Take one part Dark Side Of The Moon, one part Bone Thugs N’ Harmony and one part classic Bauhaus, and you’ll have some idea of the thrilling, chilling, soul-stirring package these guys have unleashed upon the world. But don’t take my word for it—check ‘em out at MySpace.com/Guillitene and find out for yourself. Hey, Dah—One Love, bro. I hope this album is the start of something HUGE in the rap world ...

That’s it for me, my lil’ love-birds, curmudgeons an’ hopeless romantics—tune in again next week for more reviews. ‘Til then—make yer own damn Love, an’ yer own damn news.

If you have local music news/gigs/CDs you’d like to see listed in this column, or you’d just like to complain that I didn’t send you my usual gift of corny candy hearts with sayings like “UR CUTE” this year, send replies to: Tmygunn777@peoplepc.com. ||