Awesome Snakes

With the Soviettes on indefinite hiatus, Annie and Danny have put a together a gratifyingly gritty cup of vodka lemonade whose mix of stripped-down punk rockets and sampled bits of dialogue delivers all the heaviness of Death From Above ’79 without any of the art school pretensions. As the liner notes indicate, Annie “guitars the bass” here, meaning plenty of overdrive and plenty of space for Danny’s inspired rants on everything from a party at the Little Ceasar’s on East Lake Street to the ridiculousness of trying to get a plaid snake. Add to that Annie spelling out “A-W-E-S-O-M-E—AWESOME! A-W-E-S-O-M-E S-N-A-K-E-S—SNAKES!” at the top of her lungs and you can just tell they’re having an absolute blast making this music. With 15 tracks clocking in at just under 24 minutes, it’s a tight and virtually flawless little package. The inclusion of tracks like “Snakes vs. Jerks,” wherein a clip of someone saying “snakes” is amateurishly cut in to replace the word “animals” in a Dr. Doolittle-esque song from the ’50s, keeps the mood light and breaks up some of the sameness that could result from an unrelenting bass/drums assault. Plus, turning over the reins to P.O.S. for a track is never a bad idea: He’s like the Magic Johnson of featured guests, making everyone better. These are the kind of m_therf___ing snakes you want on your m_therf___ing plane.

The Danforths
Look Out for the Wolves
Essay Records
skycrusher.com

The artists formerly known as The Chris Danforths have made a killer record. Opening track “Good Night in German” switches gears so many times—from sounding like a Schubert song cycle to a doors-blown-off arena rocker and everywhere in between—in its five minutes that you’ll be ready for just about anything to follow it, which it just about does. Chris Danforth and the rest of the core band (Tom Kemmer and Neil Fasen), along with the help of a long list of accomplices, have crafted an album that contains multitudes. A carnival drifts by in the background of “Milky eyed” before a chunky groove locks you in while mad scientist keyboards take stabs at your sense of equilibrium. The chirping crickets in the title track vie for space with a punishing drum machine track, and this city vs. country dynamic runs through the whole album, even as it’s subverted by the album’s refusal to offer up easy solutions. Just as quickly as songs rush at you, they dissolve into the beeping of an alarm clock and a trumpet’s punctuated bleating. There aren’t enough people out there making headphone albums, but as the liner notes to this one indicate, it’s “Headphone Approved,” and I might go so far as to say they’re required. Once I started listening to it on my tiny boombox at work, I knew something was up, but it wasn’t until I slipped on the ear goggles that it really started to blossom into a work on a scale similar to Neutral Milk Hotel’s In the Aeroplane over the Sea or Sufjan Stevens’ Illinois. It’s no mean feat to make an album which is immediately appealing but can also reveal further dimensions between the folds. Whether the disc will continue to enthrall after repeated listenings is hard to say, but it’ll definitely be given that chance.

Gawker Slowdown
Self Defense
Self-Released
soundclick.com/gawkerslowdown

If you’ve ever spent any amount of time futzing around with ProTools or another home recording program, you’ll recognize the tone of acoustic opener “Radiator” on Self Defense. Swathed in layers of reverb, the instrumental tune is sentimental, simple and reminiscent of the Allman Brothers’ “Little Martha.” A refreshing lack of pretension runs through the disc: A more knowing, dirtier production wouldn’t have let the songs shine, while the sparkle and glitz provided by a professional studio might have removed some of the DIY charm. Under the name Gawker Slowdown, Eric Kalenze records music in his basement studio, and while the results are unlikely to turn the heads of hipsters, you can hear the threads leading from the early alt.country efforts of Wilco. Kalenze’s slide work on the dobro recalls the earlier, earthier Delta blues of Keb’ Mo’, and the roots influence here keeps things from sliding off into the picayune. Occasionally, the lyrics might get a little too clever for their own good, as on the politcally leaning and lightly anti-capitalist “Nothing It Can’t Do”; his heart’s in the right place, comparing Bush to a huckster salesman, but the end result is too lightweight to really sting. Ditto for “Self Defense” and “Lady Peace at her Vanity,” which walk softly all over the Patriot Act and Fox News without ever pulling out the big stick. The record’s at its best when Kalenze sticks to the more universal, carpe diem sentiments of “Don’t Be the One” and the traffic jam blues of “Headlight River.” Self Defense is resolutely adult, never pretending to be hipper than it is, but there’s not enough music out there that can appeal to a broader crowd without pandering to the lowest common denominator. Gawker Slowdown’s finished-basement sound is the kind of jam you can bring home to meet the parents. ||