QUOTE OF THE WEEK: "The Ramones didn't need Mohawks to be punk. They were four working-class construction worker delinquents from Forest Hills, Queens, who were armed with two-minute songs that they rattled off like machine gun fire. It was enough to change the Earth's revolution; or at least the music of the time. It was an assault. Someone once asked Johnny Ramone why the songs were so short. He said, 'They're actually fairly long songs played very, very quickly." —Eddie Vedder

SONG OF THE WEEK: “Here Today, Gone Tomorrow” —The Ramones

Modern Day Tragedy
This Is Your Life
(MDT Music - 2004)

Minneapolis-based trio Modern Day Tragedy lay down the kind of straight-ahead, no-frills power-chord rawk that the youth of the world oh-so-sorely needs at this point in time. From the absolutely anthemic opener, "Live N End" ("this ain't no time to start a trend, no/So much for all the shitty things you bought, yeh!"), to blistering, Ramones-ish axe assaults like "Burnout" and "Handful Of Ecstacy," This Is Your Life is a loud, brash, shameless salute to the overwhelming joy to be found in the wild abandon of playing honest, from-the-gut, punk-pop music. I give these cool cats 50 points for energy, 40 points for subject matter (come on, if the Ramones were just starting out, it woulda been X instead of Carbona, and you know it), and 20 points for attitude. What? You say that's 110%? You're damn right it is—just look at the big, stupid, happy grins on the faces of band members Theo, Ty and drummer Matt Alleva—these are three rock-happy noise-makers who give it their all, and who understand the massively important difference between "serious punk rock" and "seriously punk rock." Crank this one up!

Pete Hofmann
Mermaid On The Rocks
(Capsule Records - 2004)

Local pop whiz Hofmann made a decent splash around town back in '01 with the release of his near-glammy, hook-a-licious Crawling Tall album, a collection of sparkling (mostly) up-tempo nuggets so tasty they fairly begged for a less-than-stellar follow-up. Thankfully, he avoids that common band/artist malady with Mermaid On The Rocks, a (loosely) water-themed batch of tunes which span a host of genres and prove that the young singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist (along with his merry band of co-conspirators, a stellar cast that includes producer/guitarist Jacques Wait, Heath Henjum, Steve Isadore, Tom Herbers, Sally Cassellius, Jimmy Johnson, Andy Schultz, Jeff Waryan, and Mike Wisti) paid close attention in his self-taught musicology classes.

As a result, Mermaid... reads like what you'd imagine Quentin Tarantino's or Tom Waits' record collections to be comprised of—a mish-mash of styles and genres of music ranging from Tin Pan Alley through the Golden Age of Hollywood, the best of Broadway, and the cream of bachelor pad croon-age from the past six decades: The title track breezes in on a South Seas vibe, Johnson's pedal steel calling to your soul like the legendary creatures of the song's subject matter, Pete cheekily intoning, "Sugar spike that rum/I chew my ice and I hum/A little show tune/Rodgers and Hammerstein/The blender whines off-key..." Oh, if Jimmy Buffet could still write a beach tune this alluring, he surely wouldn't have to be tag-teaming with Nashville's largest corn stars, would he?

"She Balances" conjures images of Rufus Wainwright's dark melodies of the heart wafting over an aft deck on a slightly tipsy, star-lit summer's eve; "Chocolate Bug" rides a funky, Booker T.-ish groove across burning keyboard pumps and scritchy-scratchy, Steve Cropper-ized axe licks. Some moments (as in the almost-child-like tale, "Little Boat, You Must Wander This World") on the album seem, on first listen, a bit slow and—dare I say it—mawkish, but after a few spins, you realize that instead of having to put on a stack of island, swing, beach, country and show music to entertain yourself or a guest, you've got it all right here in one package.

This is mood music—which means you either have to be in a certain mood to enjoy it, or you have to be smart enough to use it to create the mood you want. Put Mermaid On The Rocks in the player, hit random, and turn your attention to more important things—like pouring drinks and brushing the lint off of your smoking jacket. Pete Hofmann and his incredible band of musical compatriots have created one of the most eclectic, sensuous bachelor pad albums to come down the pike since Jackie Gleason's heyday, and they've got you covered. Smooth, oh, so smooth.

Otis Gibbs
One Day Our Whispers
(Benchmark Records - 2004)

Indianapolis, Indiana, singer/songwriter Otis Gibbs' voice is reminiscent of a bizarre cross between the pipes of Joe Henry, Tom Waits and Jon Dee Graham; his music similar to early, Jayhawks-augmented Henry material like Short Man's Room; and his material the type of wistful, country-tinged pure honky-tonk one might hear on the soundtrack to some obscure indie film on the Sundance channel. From the gorgeous, heart-in-throat opener, "Karluv Most" to the John Prine-inspired "Small Town Saturday Night" right on through to the foot-tappin', banjo-and-mando-laden bluegrass ode, "Daughter Of A Truck Drivin' Man," Gibbs and his spot-on backing band prove themselves worthy of the aforementioned influences and many more. A popular live act in Indy, Otis and the band definitely have the chops, the catalog, and the appeal to start spreading their home-cooked, heart-worn story-songs out past the fields and railroads of their home territory and on to some of those roads and road-houses they sing and play about with such fervor. A tasty, heady Americana cocktail with a refreshing Hoosier twist.

Ian Moore
Luminaria
(Yep Roc Records - 2004)

Moore, along with about fifteen other various musicians and friends, recorded this collection of ballads, ruminations and self-examinations over the summer of 2003, in "houses, radio stations, and hotel rooms." Not that you can tell that by the record's production (courtesy of Moore), which is sparse but crystal clear, or by the performances, which are heart-felt, aching and immediate. Moore deals with his introspective, smokey world view in a straight-forward manner, confessing everything with his tone, very little with his words: "So take me from my worry," he urges on "What I've Done," over tragic strums and soft, soaring guitar moans, "As my life will take its own/My hands have hurt no others/Just my eyes know what I've done ..."

"Caroline" tells a dark tale of lost opportunities and betrayal: "Did you really think you'd live forever, Caroline?/They all just sold you down the line/And now you're looking for forgiveness/Every time you shut your eyes ..." Moore's vocal abilities begin to show themselves here, his range opening up from the soft hum of the opening track to higher-pitched, almost operatic reaches. "April" is the perfect hipster/scenester anti-anthem, a jangly, loping stab at a half-hearted optimism Moore (and his intended audience) probably wouldn't be happy with even if they did attain it: ""It gets so dark down there/In your basement room," he sings, "Sometimes it’s days before the sun shines/And you get so tired that your bed feels like a womb/Sometimes it’s hard to see the point in trying ..."

"Abilene" is a dreamy, almost woozy warning song about that lil' Texas town—or, more specifically, what it's done to the song's author: "Oh, Abilene," moans Moore, "too many sunny skies ..." He's not the happiest camper in the pop/rock arena, but he is damn good at what he does. This is one of those rainy-day records that's so grey, so self-involved, so grainy, that you actually find yourself in a better mood after listening to it. After all, if life is this fucked up for Moore, how bad could a small overdraft at the bank or getting shorted on a sack of 'mersh bud be, anyway? As he puts it in "Ordinary People," another brittle jab at the very rock ’n’ roll elitists who surely make up most of his fan base: "Punctured, painted, spoiled and jaded/Rebellion by numbers, your studied subculture/Is pulling you down/And you're digging desperately/To get into the underground ..." In the end, that self-realization saves Moore from drowning in the very morass of mellow-dom he revels in, and pegs him as above-above average in today's dramatic singer/songwriter category. I'd like to say I really, really like this record, but considering its intended target audience, I guess I should just mumble that it's pretty good. I guess. Shrug.

That's it for me this week, gang. Tune in next time for more CD/and/or/DVD reviews, spilled booze and boogie woogie blooz. Until we meet again—make yer own damn news. ||

If you have local music news, gigs, CDs you’d like to see mentioned in this column, or you’d just like to complain that you ARE the smug, self-involved hipster Ian Moore’s singing about in the above review and you’d like name credit, send replies to: (temporary e-mail) jamescrouch_1@juno.com.