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For the week of July 11th, 2001

Effloresce>Effloresce
Effloresce’s self-titled CD is a driven, hard rock album that takes frequent turns for the creepy-spooky-cool. (Think: a house haunted by PJ Harvey.) Well-mixed with Alexandra Hope on guitar and vocals, Scott Fremont on drums and Vicki Jenkins on bass, this trio manages to serve up a huge sound. Hope’s lead kicks up a mournful cattish sound, while Fremont manages the nearly impossible balance of providing solid backup on percussion without either sticking out or boring a listener.
    The album’s first song, “Unusual,” manages a recurring ethereal theme throughout the album, amidst phrases that lean toward hard rock shock. “Dangerous” combines some ghostly wailing and trembling for a great effect.
—Heidi Fellner

Gwenmars > Driving A MIllion (See Thru Broadcasting)
From the label that brought us the band Enon comes a sophisticated and catchy pop record with razor sharp edges. Like a twisted but enjoyable collision between Jane’s Addiction, Oasis and Gary Numan, these weirdos construct a planet with its own unique stratosphere and rugged landscape. Genuinely unafraid of the electric guitar or revealing lyrics, Gwenmars hit their mark on “Hurry Up,” the centerpiece of this hook-heavy CD. “Hurry Up/ Stay Away / All you do is confuse me” is the lyrical construct that rolls out over soaring layers of guitars and super-keen keyboards that are used not as an instrument in the traditional sense, but more like a tactical nuclear weapon of power pop explosion that leaves fragments of fallout in the stereo speakers with an eternal half-life that makes these tunes unforgettable. Every little particle is an invaluable catalyst that makes the music expand and contract in delightful ways. This hybrid mix of deft production, ruthless playing and clever vocals makes Driving a Million a record that can travel through time and space and makes you wonder, “Where the hell am I now?”
—Paul D. Dickinson

Jeb Loy Nichols > Just what Time it is
Jeb Loy Nichols’ Just What Time It Is combines an ambitious modern funk sound with Caribbean and country influences. Featuring a combo of bass, guitar, piano, drums and a smattering of backup vocals, tracks like “Perfect Stranger” play up the band’s eclectic tastes. With a few credits on his resume, such as a smash review in the Philadelphia Weekly, Jeb’s past album was proudly proclaimed “the best soul album of the year.” So it should come as no surprise that his newest CD is equally impressive.
    Most songs are the offspring of proud parent Jeb, and creative and original lyrics and melodies do not disappoint. Though the album was recorded hastily at two studios (one in Jamaica) you’d never know it from the well-mixed, almost elegant sound achieved. A practiced hand clearly guides this band to find their own unique sound blend.
    While their current whirlwind tour doesn’t contain any Minneapolis dates as yet, check www.jebloynichols.com for show dates and CD information.
—Heidi Fellner

Brassy > Brassy
Right on time for summer is the delightfully tooth-shattering debut from Brassy, a remarkably polished high-energy pop outfit from (where else?) England. Brassy may be snazzy, but they rock, delivering not paltry scoopfuls but entire buckets of good humor. Brassy is a bumping band of Brits unto whom you will surrender your booty. Resistance is futile, for it’s the B-R-A-Double-S-Y BEAT!!
    Brassy’s guitars bite and whip around like a playful doggy gnawing on its favorite chew-toy. There are some pretty cool and colorful synth sounds ranging from red rubber ball boings to sonic stretch marks in an array of some of the most amazing colors I have never seen. Busy drums move to the twisted R&B craziness that recalls JSBX, but even faster. Brazen girly gang choruses tickle the brainstem in all the right ways as they head to the sky. This is frenetically paced body-moving music that even when brought down, nevertheless manages to percolate at a rather popping strut.
—Donny Doane

Lila Downs> Border (Narada World)
There are no borders between human beings; there are only borders between governments.
    Lila Downs has crossed the border. Born of a Mixtec Indian mother and an Anglo father who taught documentary filmmaking at the University of Minnesota, Downs has reclaimed her Mexican roots. Her music is world music. Gospel, jazz and hip-hop are mixed in traditional Mexican forms with pre-Columbian and folk instruments. The result is surprisingly familiar, graceful, accessible.
    “While I was in Oaxaca, I was asked to translate from English to Mixtec death certificates of young boys who had left for the United States searching for work,” explains Downs in her bio. “Their relatives wanted to know how they died. It was so powerful, being this translator of their deaths. I had to sing about it, to honor them if I could.”
    And honor them she does. But Downs also diverges from her Mexican roots, breaking into English halfway through the album with a touching rendition of Woody Guthrie’s “Pastures of Plenty.” A jazzed version of “This Land Is Your Land” follows, intercut with a rap version of verses from “Pastures.” Downs makes your hair stand on end, then she curls it, all at the same time.
    —Ed Felien

Gretchen Peters > Gretchen Peters
Gretchen Peters’ new self-titled second album bleeds a Nashville take on the modern disenchantment of our generation. Without being in any way cynical, Gretchen explores the everyday tragedies of being continually disappointed in a heartless age. The album is homey and comfortable in such a way that no matter your background, it speaks to anyone who has started life with a whole heart and had it cracked and splintered, yet continues to get up every morning full of hope.
    Peters has enjoyed a great amount of success in the folk music-loving U.K., and Time describes her as the woman “whose choir-girl voice has a seductive hint of late nights and cigarettes.” An apt description, though most of her songs have been supplied to singers like Bonnie Raitt and George Strait. Peters herself is definitely worth hearing as more than just a double Grammy-nominated songwriting talent.
—Heidi Fellner

For the week of May 16th, 2001

Sweet Sixteen
Music astronomer Celeste Tabora
weighs in on new
and upcoming releases
(Note: not all albums listed are out yet!)

 

1. Death by Chocolate
Death by Chocolate (Jetset Records)
Fave: “Daddy’s Out of Focus”
This album contains a disco-esque beat with an Incense-n-Peppermints keyboard/guitar feel. This outfit owns little vocal melody, which instead gets replaced by a spoken word/poetry vibe. It's loungy—fit for that dressy-diva martini party you've been itching to throw. Euro-chic (for sure) fused with a Doors keyboard melody. Things that come to mind: Inspector Gadget, Pink Panther, Get Smart.

2. Dark Fantastic
Goodbye Crooked Scar (Up Records)
Fronted by Mark Pickerel (ex-Screaming Trees; worked w/ Cobain, Neko Case, Jim Carroll), Dark Fantastic is his bred-on-melancholy-and-lovelorn-memories musical baby—fitting for a self-proclaimed sad and desperate romantic. This sophomore effort features Mike Elkins on bass and Jesse Sea on guitars and organ. (Pickerel plays everything else.) These 8 oh-so darkly alternative tracks sigh of psychedelia and heavy rock.

3. Tom Daily
The Burlington Northern (Thick Records)
Fave: “The World of Yawns”
Anti-anthem “The Kids Are Not Alright,” opens this album with a message that’s both hopeful and hopeless. The debut full length swells with guitar driven, synth-highlighted songs. Daily’s nasal vocals eventually irritate, though for the most part are a necessary evil. Eleven tracks—happily all over the map. Sometimes indie, Beatles-esque, or power-poppy, there’s a melody here just for you.

4. Mata Hari
(Unfinished Demo) (Child of the Dawn)
Fave: “The Fox Hunt”
I call this “slo-mo.” Airy and quiet (ponder Low or Pedro the Lion without religious ties), Mata Hari have birthed a stunning, pleasantly haunting 6-track EP—hardly enough for a music lover in love. Whispered vocals coat samples, drum machine, dueling guitars, and keys woven together into a gorgeous aural blanket. Mmm.

Unwound
Leaves Turn Inside You (Kill Rock Stars)
Fave: “Below the Salt”
The seventh effort in their ten-year survival, Leaves Turn Inside You is an example of Unwound’s longevity, strength and consistency. It’s also their first self-produced/engineered album. For interesting panning, effects and other studio magic, driving rock and the ability to intuitively flow, this is going on my list of perfect albums. (On double vinyl or enhanced CD.)

6. Keiko Matsui
Whisper from the Mirror (Narada Jazz)
Fave: “Dimensions”
Can you deny the romanticism in Matsui’s way of tickling the ivories?
Accompanied by the adult contemporary instrumentation, it’s somewhat cheesy and takes away from the emotion spoken on the 88 keys. Matsui is still excellent in the way she breathes life into these songs.

7. The Trouble with Sweeny
Dear Life (Burnt Toast Vinyl)
You’ve heard this before, in another incarnation. Honky-tonky-poppy-rocky hybrid. Included are cool instruments (lap steel and dobro, rhodes and hammond b3, trumpet and flute)—unfortunately they’re not placed or utilized in any true innovative manner. Two outta five stars.

8. Beauty Pill
The Cigarette Girl from the Future (DeSoto/Dischord)
Fave: “The Cigarette Girl from the Future”
The Beauty Pill know how and where to put their “extras.” The vocals of Joanne Gholl and Chad Clark parallel what we loved about the Pixies. Extra bonus points: incorporating the Black Sonya 2000 Migrant Recording Studio, which Clark invented. It allows the band to record close to everywhere. They’re my new fave. You need to own this.

9. King Britt Presents SYLK 130
Re: Members Only (Ovum Recordings/Six Degrees)
Fave: “I Can’t Wait”
Former Digable Planets DJ King Britt brings us another original-material-record-in-tribute to the 1980s. Boom boxes and acidwash from when hip-hop wore diapers and disco considered retirement. This album features collaborations with Kathy Sledge, Pos & Trugoy of De La Soul and Jazzy Jeff. This is a highly grooveable party album. Aww yeah.

10. The Jealous Sound
The Jealous Sound (Better Looking Records)
Fave: “Bitter Strings”
One track that bugs me about this album is “Quiet Life.” The Travis-like song protrudes from the regular indie flow pervading the rest of the EP. “Bitter Strings” contains a dangerously catchy hook. FYI: features ex-Knapsack, Sunday’s Best and Ten Foot Pole members.

11. Poor Rich Ones
Happy Happy Happy (Rec 90/Five One Inc.)
Fave:”Twins”
The first thing I hear out of someone’s mouth when I play this album is “WHO is this?” followed by, “It’s good!” Their most accessible album yet, Norway natives Poor Rich Ones recruited Mark Trombino’s production prowess for their third effort. They are the indie man’s Radiohead.
12. Evan and Jaron
Evan and Jaron (Columbia)
Fave: “The Distance”
I vote this album “Most Likely to Be Featured on an Episode of Dawson’s Creek.” It’s a mainstream pop album. But it’s a GOOD mainstream pop album, with believable emoting. Mpls. ties: Dan Wilson co-wrote a song, local producer John Fields worked on it as well.

13. CV Whitney
Sunset Suicide (Independent)
“Sunset Suicide,” hmm. How about omitting that first word? The album sounds like an unprepared attempt at a follow-up to the O Brother Where Art Thou soundtrack. It’s folk music. Nothing new, it’s just folk music.

14. The And/Ors
Will Self Destruct (Better Looking Records)
Fave: “Screams Nicole”
If you happened to wish for a grittier version of local band Faux Jean, The And/Ors are your answer. “Garage pop” seems a fitting label, if you find labels fitting. I would totally go out and buy this. FYI: The And/Ors contains members of Jejune, Crash Worship and Interstate Ten.

15. Actionslacks
The Scene’s Out of Sight (Self-Starter Foundation)
Fave: “Tad Loves Kimberly James”
Is there such a thing as post-pop punk? Well, this would probably be it. Bay area’s Actionslacks recruited phenomenal producer J. Robbins for this record. It’s happy-go-lucky, great for a summer sublet in your record collection.

16. Joan of Arc
How Can Anything So Little Be Any More?
Fave: “I’ll Show You, I’ll Show You All”
Joan of Arc called it quits last month. That’s right, after four full-lengths (and a couple of 7-inches) they say sayonara, shove this record in our ears and expect us to remain silent about this abandonment. Well, touché, JoA. It’s another curveball record and it’s what you might expect out of an avant garde rock band taking its last breath. Vive la Jeanne d’Arc.

For the week of May 2nd, 2001

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Nationale
Nationale
(Fighting Electric)

It’s been a year since Nationale schemed to vent their debut EP on an unsuspecting world. Well, now they’ve done it, and their six-song disc will be available at your favorite independent record stores as you read this. Alex Achen (guitar, vocals), Scott Wells, (bass, baritone guitar, vocals) Joe Murphy, (drums) and Pat Stary (guitar) all hail from Red Wing, and it’s there between the hills and the river that their sound incubated into all that it is today. This is the evidence of the offhand, powerful rock that is Nationale’s calling card.
    Recorded in the earlier part of 2000, this record finds the boys in top form. Anyone who has seen Nationale live knows that Wells’ bass tends toward the mid-range at their shows, and sometimes he plays a baritone guitar to accent the smudge of tones the band engenders. Also, Stary and Achen weave a sonic tapestry tighter that a duck’s butt. This is mostly due to the odd guitars that Stary prefers as well as good ol’ know-how. With Murphy’s spot-on drumming, the band gets a solid, centered sound. That, and the cryptic lyrics dazzle to a dizzying effect, an example of their subtle sense of humor, slyly hidden under mountains of percussive passages, double and triple entendre, and lush, math-rock layers.
    “Truth Serum” begins the set with gentle chimes that give way to a bold staccato rhythm. “For Good Idea” takes a good hard look at the grandeur of power rock without the mechanical bent the guys usually display. “I am Programmed to Beat You” ends the set with a resonant corkscrew labyrinth of spiky modulation.
    All in all, this record rocks. Even if it is not exactly groundbreaking, this record belongs in any complete collection of local music, especially if you like power bands that tend to the clever and inventive. It’s also noteworthy that Nationale is the glue that binds the Fighting Electric roster. Both Achen and Wells also pull triple duty in Convoy! and The Hockey Night.
—T. Alexander

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Zero Zero
AM Gold
(Jade Tree Records)

Unless I’m forgetting someone, Zero Zero is my favorite Jade Tree band formed out of the ashes of another band. In this case, it’s the dispersed hardcore outfit, Lifetime. Miss TK (also known as Tannis Kristjanson), Ari Katz and Dave Idea compose Zero Zero. The list of their instrumentation is immense in comparison to other bands, but just so you get the gist of it, the Readers Digest version would list off as: acoustic and electronic drums, organs and synthesizers, guitars, samplers, turntables, and a Macintosh.
    Zero Zero formed in 1999 after Lifetime’s break up. At their start they had six members, and they reconstructed the outfit upon getting an offer from their old friends at Jade Tree Records (who put out two Lifetime records). “The AM Gold sound is the result of our decision to break up Zero Zero, rebuild Zero Zero and trust ourselves,” discloses Idea.
    Which was a relief for those who have seen Zero Zero play out (most of whom become understandably instantly hooked). So, into the studio they headed, where they recruited the help of the Death From Above producing/mixing team. DFA consists of producer James Murphy (who worked with Trans Am and Turning Machine) and mixer Tim Goldsworthy (his credits include remixing Radiohead and Beck, as well as being nob-twiddler for UNKLE—the remix posse).
    If you were to hear this record impromptu without any Behind the Music type briefing, I bet you’d figure it for a European (or Japanese pop) effort. “Xanadu” would have you screaming “Stereolab!” during a game of Name that Band. Others, like “Back to Hell” and “Speed Garage,” just might have your finger pointing towards The Beta Band. Alas, both your guesses would be close, but they’d leave you without the cigar. Euro-electro-rock they are not. Zero Zero frequent a nearby place called New Jersey. Also interesting: the husband and wife dynamic that flow between Miss TK and Katz. We’ve seen it before with John and Yoko, Thurston and Kim, Low’s Alex and Mimi . . . hell, even Christina and John Spencer.
    I can only say that this is a mighty danceable album. AM Gold needs to hold a place in your hip-party-CD collection. It can positively compliment a slightly impaired mood. Group this as a fun and a social album.
—Celeste Tabora

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Ran Away to Sea
I Won’t Tell a Soul Except the World
(Burnt Toast Vinyl)
The party of Ran Away to Sea’s second album, I Won’t Tell a Soul Except the World, doesn’t come with champagne. But, like any excellent dip, once it’s gone you’ll be salivating for more. Daniel and Scott French’s first release with a full band, including bassist Matthew Campbell and keyboard player Heather Hatt, this indie rock quartet emanates a texture much thicker than most five-piece bands.
    I Won’t Tell . . . offers a thickly lathered, beautifully engineered mix, but its strengths lie subtly among backing vocals, keyboards and an original percussive blend. These features carve a distinctive niche for the band, while the obvious focuses like lead vocals, lyrics, melody and basic song structure are the weakest element of the album. Aside from a few lines I find graceful without their original context, the lyrics are too thoughtlessly organized and random to be authentic. They are too straightforward to evoke emotion from a poetic depth, too vague to instill the energy that comes with enlightening information and too general to engage the listener. In other words, the vocals stain a perfectly listenable party dress.
    However, the album’s ten tracks do offer several highly redeeming qualities that should not be ignored. Deserving first note are the abilities of Scott French, whose clearly coordinated and imaginative drum work surpasses keeping a beat, engaging musically with the other instrumentation instead of pacing beneath it. The keyboards add everything from punch to glue, reinforcing the melodies and vocals at all the cracks and chips on each track. Hatt shows through with powerful leads and graceful back-ups (vocals and keyboards), tastefully arranged to complement and change the entire sound of the album.
The music itself excels where a rising number of bands fail. The French Core is disciplined in constructing and performing songs that obviously matter a great deal to them. Until the new influences rise to the positions they deserve, however, this band is all dressed down with everywhere to go.
—J. Steinbauer

 

For the week of April 4th, 2001

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Powderfinger
Odyssey Number Five
(Universal)

With a charming Australian sincerity, Powderfinger lay on their layered harmonies and deft instrumentation to brew up one hell of a compelling CD. At times they almost sound American—make that Americana—with straight-ahead melodies and bright guitars. But then they go and do something so strange, so unique, that you realize they have to be from someplace far away to be able to get away with such stunts. Most of their complexity comes straight from two sources: Voice modulation and guitar insanity. It’s the tune “Like a Dog” where these forces collide to great effect. Somewhere between a blues jam and a rock anthem, it ends abruptly with the lyrical warning: “If you treat me like a dog and keep me locked in a cage / I’m not relaxed or comfortable, I’m aggravation and rage.”
Yet there is true beauty on this record as well. In “My Kind of Scene” singer Bernard Fanning manages to put so much damn heart in the simple wail: “But its not my kind of scene, oh yeah.” It’s one of those great rock moments where, in between the stereo speakers, you find a new explanation for the demise of the universe, or at least a way to escape from it.
    Powderfinger walks their sonic tightrope with shocking ease. Their philosophical lamentations never become cumbersome, and the swagger of the guitars never shred through the delicate stratosphere that hangs over every track on this record. Pop smarts, quietly eccentric and demented guitar work along with ragged lyrical brilliance make this one of the finest imports of the year.

—Paul D. Dickinson

The Jane Lady
Excuse Me Comma Sir
(Independent)

Brian Molko of Placebo would be jealous. Lead vocalist for St. Michael, Minnesota’s The Jane Lady is giving Molko a run for his makeup. “Growing Up Beautiful” has fantastic lyrics that echo the whiny pre-pubescent art kid singing his unhealthy (but so cuuute) infatuation, “I’m carving your name in my arm and I feel so warm / And the blood’s so red, and I feel so alive.” The band shows off its musical diversity with this song, starting out poppy and charming, then transitions into a deeper indie rock jam. Seven tracks all emoting that of modern Seattle—sass rock, glam rock, and pop rock blended till frothy. The members are young—a fact that becomes apparent when you listen to the self-released recording, you can almost reach out and touch the naivete and unintentional experimentation. There’s a (willful?) displacement throughout the songwriting, but it’s a good thing. It showcases the potential of these talented pups. Keep an eye out for this band—their evolution from caterpillar to butterfly should be grand!

—Celeste Tabora

For the week of March 28th, 2001


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BS2000
Simply Mortified
(Grand Royal)

It’s the time where your Friday night party fuses into your Saturday morning cartoons. You know, it’s BS2000! What? For shame! You haven’t heard about Adam Horovitz and Amery “AWOL” Smith’s side project? This Beastie Boy and Beastie affiliate came up with the idea for a “popular music group” in the mid-’90s. (Was it in Hawaii or near an airport? At a McDonald’s? Neither can remember.) They traded tracks across the nation, one being on the east, the other on the west coast, and came up with this freaked out, Casio-loving, groove heavy, organ ’n’ beats explosion. It’s beat-rific, never serious, and it’s a ball to dance to! Which is probably why they caught the ear of DJs like Alec Empire and Dan the Automator. The tracks are simply fun. There’s “Side to Side”, a track that involves the crowd/listener in doing the “Side to Side”—a dance reminiscent of old crazes like the mashed potato and the twist. (The theme appears again later in the CD with “The Scrappy.”) Their sound is frantic and buoyant, and with Smith’s 10-year-old niece providing vocals, it can be a bridge for rock-loving children and child-loving rockers. And even if you’re neither of these you may be able to frolic in your living room (I found this an excellent disc to clean to!) while scaring the furballs off your cat. It seems that BS2000 is the male answer to Kathleen Hanna’s Le Tigre (seriously, remove vocals and you’d be amazed at the similarities), or the fun-loving younger brother of Fat Boy Slim.
—Celeste Tabora

BS2000 will perform at the Quest’s Ascot Room on April 3 with the Need. For more information go to www.grandroyal.com.

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Overkill
Bloodletting
(Metal is Records)

Here is a heavy metal band that has become more dangerous via technology. These 10 tracks are pure and jagged, unleashing a laserlike damage upon those who dare partake of their poison. And as Overkill lashes out, they blaze a new and glorious path. New path aside, however, there’s no lack of old-fashioned high metal drama available on this album. Vocalist Bobby “Blitz” Ellsworth screams right on into the new century with a demonic growl, and, when appropriate, a piercing falsetto that’s not unlike an opera colliding with a Panzer division. In “Death Comes Out to Play” Mr. Ellsworth reveals a dark and mystical presence with a dubious invitation: “Here we go on one last ride / I’ll be your captain.” As the guitars whine and rumble with a symphonic rage, we are dragged along on a voyage through a collapsing diorama of alienation, despair, and, most rewardingly, defiance. Double kick drum assaults, key changes and complex tempo variations keep Overkill’s metal molten and full of surprises. By the time the reckless anthem of the final track, “Can’t Kill a Dead Man,” rolls around, I feel fearless and deranged in the safe confines of my Radio Shack headphones. Is it safe to come out yet?
—Paul D. Dickinson

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Pocket Genius
Pocket Genius
(Boss Tuneage)

“Veracity” is a word whose scarcity manifests itself not only with its absence from the page, but as a tempering alloy when people are being verbs. It is a tenacious, hungry devotion to the truth that can reach the dizzying heights of adoration. It is all-enveloping and constantly revealing. Authenticity stands while that which is ingenuine or indifferent merely blinks out as a shameful spark leaving not even a wisp of memory’s ash.
    That said, Pocket Genius has a CD they would like to reveal to the world. On this disc, eight songs have been consecrated into a digital carrier. Think of that tasty little disc of bread used at Catholic mass. Both discs are used as intermediary vehicles that not only store but also disseminate certain signals that originate from a higher, sentient agency.
    The blessed mouth of the CD player opens to accept the body of Pocket Genius. It becomes a verb. But the exhortations here sound like the dying cries of a transient age. Even with the divine guidance of audio archangel Mike Wisti, this record, recorded in only six hours, bears little conveyance of such haste. Then again, it could actually be fraught with that haste.
    Achieving an overall ear palate of ’90s hard/punk rock, the songs exude the moldering odors of those times. I just don’t think these or any songs for that matter sound very good that way anymore. The search for a nice, genuine guitar tone can be like looking for the Holy Grail. It’s not easy business, and most never come close.
    One thing I’m certain of is that nobody should be looking in those woods we passed a while back. I hereby de-canonize the Foogazifighter model, which, though bracing, reminds me of a word we used as kids when watching old horror flicks with lousy special effects: “Fakey.” It’s artificial and lifeless and has about as much tone as fluorescent light, and equally, the flavor of the average eucharistic wafer, which is reminiscent of mulched office paper and envelope flap adhesive.
    The musicianship exhibited is fine, and the execution energetic and precise. There exists a pervasive “shoulders drawn up about the ears” quality that lends a tense aspect. The self-imposition of economic efficiency constraints can end up standing right alongside the rendered vision with an arm wrapped snuggly around it. Whether the artist has any veracity to his intentions or to anything doesn’t matter, because the art itself does. Art is veracity and it illuminates both intent and lack thereof.
    I’m not accusing Pocket Genius of not having any veracity. I’m sure they have billfolds full of it. I’m just fulfilling my own commitment to such a thing. This offering, while still miles ahead of a lot of stuff out there, is a bit starchy.
    Perhaps for a looser and more satisfying feel on their next studio foray, these dudes should get shit drunk the night before laying down basic tracks. Feeling sick and gross has always proven to generate better art than the spotless marble halls of the clean and serene.
—Donny Doane
   



For the week of March 14th, 2001

Flogging Molly
Swagger
(Side One Dummy)

There’s a lot to love about Flogging Molly, but it’s most likely the lyrical irony of tracks like “The Worst Day Since Yesterday” that draws fans. It’s easy to see why they are the “it” band for the West Coast scene. Everyone likes kitsch; everyone likes a “fun” band. And that’s exactly what Flogging Molly is. They’re the perfect Irish Pub band for the 2Ks. They were even a house band for (duh) an Irish Pub. Swagger is a great showcase for the band’s musical talent. All seven members are excellent players—especially Bridget Regan, the band’s fiddle and tin whistle player, and Robert Schmidt (mandolin and banjo). The authenticity of Flogging Molly is owned (and grasped by the balls) by Dave King (vocals and acoustic guitar). His aggressive and thick accent make the unit complete. I was also pleasantly surprised to find that Steve Albini (producer/engineer for Nirvana, Nine Inch Nails, the Pixies and countless others) was behind the board with this album. The album comes across well, although some tracks can be a bit much, such as “The Ol’ Beffars Bush” and “These Exiled Years.” Flogging Molly can be considered a novelty act, but this definitely is a worthy act to hold novel. It’s a great be-jilted-get-pissed-at-your-lover-and-life album. (i.e. “Salty Dog” and “The Likes of You Again”) Oh, and as with The Pogues, Guinness consumption is required for your complete listening experience.

—Celeste Tabora



For the week of March 7th, 2001

Spanic Boys
Torture
(Checkered Past Records)
Bald, bespectacled and barrel-bodied—this could serve as an adequate visual description of roots-rock Pappy and Popeye duumvirate, Tom and Ian Spanic. Throw on a couple of vintage Telecasters and the picture gets clearer. Toss in their new CD Torture and hear where those Tele’s go. They fly hither and thither—and not always in a straight line.
    At times they corkscrew around each other with curvilinear fury and grace. At other times they dart with the high metabolic grace of two squirrels racing each other up a tree. In the boughs of this particular tree, naturally, there are some Byrds. Carl Perkins and Roy Orbison are sitting up there, too. Some Beatle bugs scamper about, but they’re kind of tiny, so you may not notice until they land on your neck. And the branches don’t so much bend as Kink here and there.
    The main guitar line on “Doing What They Tell You” is a cross between that kind of clipped “Taxman” riff and the rolling groove of “Sittin’ on My Sofa”. How they do that, I don’t know, but it probably requires the delicacy of carefully and gently wrapping a ’71 Buick Electra ’round our tree. “Your Heart’s Not in It” is a rather direct lifting of “The Ballad of John and Yoko”, while “Gonna Be Long Gone” is an energetic stomp a la John Lee Hooker complete with harp.
    The bass and drum work is exemplary and provides a soil-clutching foundation which can willfully uproot itself to take off running. And the lyrics… well…they’re lyrics. Sometimes the absence of any metaphysical entreaties can greatly insure the success of something that was built for fun. But when father and son sing these lyrics in harmony, they take off smoothly and stay airborne.
    The strength of this record lies in how it feels as much as how it sounds. The musicianship and production are both first rate. They manipulate all the right pleasure centers of an insatiable music lover’s brain, revealing the Spanic Boys’ unfaltering and devoted love for rock ’n’ roll.
    Speaking of unrepentant paramours of the muse, this album has from first listen showered me in echoes of those feared and beloved local shit-kickers, the Youngers. So for any of you still patiently awaiting a release from those hound dogs, pick up Torture and I’m sure you’ll hear the boys in all the places I did.
    Tom and Ian Spanic may look like their lot in life should be wearing paper hats and scooping cones for the masses. But the hands of these men have far greater talent, and thus a much higher calling. The sinewy Torture is proof of this calling.
    I’ve always been quite capable at allotting myself ample amounts of torture, but every now and then, I need to feel loved, so I’ll ask someone else to do it for me. In regard to both the Spanic Boys’ latest and the hormonal surplus so common during spring, I think I might have a new angle to work: “Hi, I think you’re real nice. Would you please torture me?”
—Donny Doane

Rocket from the Crypt
Group Sounds
(Vagrant Records)
Looking for that one album that will punch you in the gut from the first note? Look no further—the new album from San Diego’s Rocket From the Crypt is 2001’s best candidate. With a potent mix of punk and rock-a-billy, horns and guitars (Oh, my!), and great hooks, this band has been mysteriously overlooked for quite a few years. But with a new member and a new label, this just might be their year.
    Group Sounds is RFTC’s ninth full-length studio album, and their tight sound shines through on each of the 13 cuts. One of the hardest working bands on the indie scene, RFTC has been putting out great music since 1990—an impressive lifespan considering the recent plethora of one-hit-wonders. And they’re not just a great studio band—seeing a live RFTC gig is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. They don matching outfits while cranking out a mountain of sound, just to let you know they don’t take themselves too seriously.
    The album opens with “Straight American Slave”, sets an impressive musical pace, and never looks back. Fans of ska/punk should (and do) appreciate RFTC’s efforts. The great combo of horns with a straight-ahead punk ethic creates a non-stop progression of great music, and the sax and trumpet add to the rawk energy without being too skanky. “Heart of a Rat” has the call-and-response chorus you expect from a punk/ska ensemble, while “Venom Venom” has the straightforward kickass bass-line that knocks your socks off.
    While every track on the album is solid, “S.O.S.” is a standout. The melody and chorus are a tad more pop-oriented than the rest of the album, but RFTC somehow make the pop-cum-punk sound jive.
    Serious or not, Group Sounds will get your pulse pumping and probably inspire you to pierce some body part.
—Trent Schroeder


For the week of February 28th, 2001

Blume
Low Glider, Bus Rider
(Artyzal)

When I go fishing, the only things I want other than my wily quarry are some nice scenery, a communion with nature and some solitude. In other words, the brook should be the only babbling that reaches my ears for those few hours. If I wanted to be around people, I suppose I could go to a coffee shop. But the same rules apply there. I want coffee, and that’s pretty much it. I don’t go to appease my social animal, to write thoughtfully in a notebook and moreover, I don’t go for the music.
    Although the trio Blume could probably get away with playing in a coffee shop, I wouldn’t go so far as to call them “coffeehouse music”. Their brand of Beatnik-Rasta-hip-hop may actually impress the caffeinated denizens of the java swamp long enough to stop their incessant trilling around their Formica lily pads.
    By the third or fourth song on Low Glider, Bus Rider, the listener should get the feeling that they’re in for an expansive culling of musical styles, all of which are soaked in a pleasant marinade of acoustic folk-action. I may be allergic to sandals, but I like this album.
    Like a wet dog shaking, guitars radiate in a spiral spray of ringing reverb while the rhythmic patterns utilized range from jazzy, laid back swaggers to higher strutting, itchy hip-hop and reggae beats. The shiny beast of technology rears its glistening head in the form of sampling, scratching and some vocal overdubs. These are used primarily for effect and for most part never detract from the highly organic creatures that are the songs. An additional sprinkling of spices includes pedal steel, mandolin, trumpet, strings and even some sci-fi saw sounds. Also, any waves of salute to the great Captain Beefheart are sure to earn the return salute of this private soldier.
    Lyrical themes explore empowerment in the names of bold youthfulness and—of course—equity and justice. And hey, anything having to do with overthrowing one’s oppressor and making fear and security kiss your ass are plenty okay by me. “Separation” is a treatment of the inner tug o’ war waged with one’s self. Lyrics like “Ranging from cocky, erect and strong / To the invertebrate paranoid / Wondering why to carry on” remind us that we’re complex beings capable of an all-encompassing range of emotional intuitions.
    It would be tempting to dismiss the music of Blume as being too eclectic, but the multifaceted influences all find cohesion and continuity in the picking and strumming of one of humanity’s best friends, the acoustic guitar. There is an unusual unified center of gravity that holds everything in place yet allows it to be as comfortably loose as it needs to be.
    This is a fine group of musicians, and their new CD is a good bet to warm up that sullen scowl so common during this lethal time of year. With spring just around the corner, now is a good time to put away that whisky and spark up a sunny bowla-granola. And who knows? Although I’m not making any promises, I just might bring along my Discman and break my usual code of silence when I go out and slaughter a mess of innocent fishes.

—Donny Doane

Twitch
Maintain Radio Silence
(Tragic Decline Records)
(???)

You know that feeling of “I’ve been here before”? Déjà vu. Although I’ve never heard Twitch before listening to their Maintain Radio Silence, I can’t shake the eerie feeling that I have heard their brand of uniform indie rock before. Perhaps it’s because they sound like so many other Minneapolis rock quartets on the circuit today. There’s nothing wrong, however, with conforming to a set genre, if you do it well—and Twitch does. Lyrically, they don’t go out on a limb, but their words feel genuine in the context of their polished rock style. The lead vocals are somewhat reminiscent of Joe Jackson minus the piano. They’ve also added a little opiate melancholy to the mix with the addition of violinist Kara Kendall. The other members of Twitch include Ciaran Daly (bass and vocals), Kevin Baltus (guitars and vocals) and Erik Siljande (percussion). They’re all well versed in their individual instruments, and, like a good improvisational jazz group, they listen to and compliment each other’s sound. They have a cohesiveness that many local bands of their genre lack, giving them a pop-friendly sound that’s easy on the ears. One of my favorite tracks on the album is “Playing God”—it reminds me of a Golden Eighties oldies Monochrome Set. The violin has a gypsy/Greek feel to it, along with a stilting drumbeat that makes me want to slug down a shot of Ouzo and do a slow sultry dance.
—Gina Caterine

Nate Houge & The Honest Folk
Folkstar
(Magwheel Records)

Nate Houge’s Folkstar is an album filled with praises of Christianity and Balsamic folk ditties. The religious messages are strong but never preachy, making the music accessible to those who may not share the same views as Houge. The sentiment is genuine and never falsely optimistic or obnoxiously upbeat. These are songs of faith, contemplation and devotion. More importantly, these are talented musicians making great music. Houge’s skilled guitar work and Melissa Bauman’s violin are beautifully integrated with Houge’s warm and earnest vocals.
    The strongest track, “Going Down,” is a dense, comforting song with beautiful violin and harmonica swirling around steady and prominent bong drums. The catchy, dulcet melody sounds like a perfect theme song to a cozy, hippie outdoor music festival.
    Other songs like the slow and spiritual “Ridden” are more downtrodden. With lines like, “From the ever-present love of God / You could say it’s my firm foundation, you could call it the hand of kindness / Some would say it’s more like a curse, and the bane of my existence” and others that read like prayers, Houge gets a bit too pious for the light-hearted feel of the rest of the album.
—Brianna Riplinger


For the week of February 21st, 2001

State of Bengal
Visual Audio
(One Little Indian)

 The amalgamation of ancient India raga and modern Euro/American dance music is the basis of all that is Visual Audio. With an Eastern tonic and techno vodka, State of Bengal relaxes your senses and numbs your mind with a flood of euphoric elements.
    Visual Audio employs traditional Indian ragas on standard Eastern instruments—sitars, harmoniums, tablas, tamburas and folk drums—and marries them with Western synthesizers, drum machines and jazz-flavored harmonies. This album is pure dance music. Minimalism in various layers dominates the core of their “pictuisation”, (sculpture of sound).
    “Burn Your Toe” is an Indian-Euro funk of layered rhythms, textures and elliptical singing in the native Indian tongue. Sung by a beautiful female voice, the Indian plainsong is layered upon an ostinato that pulses mythically above a drone of ancient understanding. It’s easy to tell this mix was made in a studio with strict limitations on note for note; beat for beat accuracy—but that’s why it’s dance music and not Ravi Shankar. In other words, it’s very mechanical. (Long live robots.)
    “Chittagong Chill” is jazzy, urban, earthy and smooth. This track is the epitome of a cross-cultural mix of sounds and textures. It captures the mood of being in an urban landscape with glimmering threads of exotic sidestreets. It’s John Coltrane dressed up like Ghandi.
    “Red Earth” is a track heavy on percussion and light on creativity. If you enjoy rhythmic motives that repeat over and over until you’re not sure whether the CD is skipping or your head is spinning, then this will be your favorite number on the album. “Red Earth” isn’t as ethnic or foreign as the remainder of the songs on the album. Rather, it’s an urban/pop dance mix that drives home the point: minimalism is NOT dead.
    Overall, Visual Audio is a solid mix of dance songs. It isn’t something you’d throw in the car stereo and it isn’t something you’d play before slumber, but if you’re hosting the neighborhood’s next dance party you may want to check it out.
—Dallas Apold
This is an impressive solo musical voyage put forth by Graig Markel, who hails from the Seattle pop band New Sweet Breath. Mr. Markel plays every instrument on this recording. He also wrote every song and produced the entire endeavor. The result is a consistent and compelling soft focus that shines upon hard emotional terrain. Within the context of 10 tunes, Markel uses bittersweet guitar leads, R&B vocal stylings and multi-faceted production techniques to unfold a sonic drama that is full of intrigue and innuendo. It is, in fact, his manipulation of slick ’70s FM radio stunts to great ends that makes this CD so memorable. Hazy keyboards, rock steady drumming and solid bass guitar marksmanship lay a seamless foundation for his strange masterpiece. The sultry mystery of the madman at the controls gently seeps through the speakers on every available frequency. “Live Without It” really brings it all home when he tells the ever present “baby”, “If it’s any consolation, you’re smooth.” With today’s endless overdose of information and supposed reality, Hard Grammar works its magic via a killer grip inside a velvet glove. In large, cinematic gestures, Markel has the power to make us wonder about the man behind the layers of sound and the a delicate fog that is a delight to decode. —Paul D. Dickinson Graig Markel
Hard Grammar
(Magwheel Records)

Terramara
Terramara
(Independent)
(???)
Upon your third or fourth spin of this album (you just keep hearing something new and different that you didn’t quite catch each time!), you realize what Terramara is: a wonderfully rich and layered tiramisu of sound.          Lead vocalist Rob Meany possesses all the effortless poetry of Sting. In fact, many of the songs have that feel, aided by lyrics that showcase a passionate talent. His voice is flexible enough to soak up the flavor of each new track, all containing the subtle differences and intrigue that make up a good album.
    The eponymous album finds Terramara drawing inspiration mostly from modern rock, but gives a nod to some blues and funk as well. Rob is backed up by bandmembers David Thomas (percussion), Jay Sonnenberg (guitar) and D.J. Sandau (bass). Jay Sonnenberg is especially impressive as a solo player in several tracks. Expertly mixed and balanced, Terramara adds layer upon layer of quick rhythms and amazing solos. They would definitely be a joy to see live.
—Heidi Fellner
   
Catch Terramara at the Fine Line, Friday, Feb. 24th from 9-10 p.m. 318 1st Ave., Mpls., 612-338-1800. www.terramara.com, gives a full performing schedule, sample selections from their album, more information about the band, and access to their music.

He emits the saddest melodies. With his guitar, Kozelek aims for the most tender part of your aural fixations and the emptiest part of your heart. His latest effort, What’s Next to the Moon is an album of AC/DC covers. (“Love at First Feel”, “Walk All Over You”, “You Ain’t Got a Hold on Me.”) His arrangements of these classic hits reinvents the feeling behind every note. He continues the melancholy he made popular with Red House Painters, and keeps the emotion real and pure. Even after appearing in Cameron Crowe’s Almost Famous last year, Kozelek proved that having his face grace the big screen has changed nothing. The album art, simple and grey, features only two photographs—lonesome train tracks and the backside of a train waiting on the sidelines. The packaging beautifully parallels the feeling of the disc. Without even realizing the meaning behind the song, without even considering the lyrical content, I was faced (as ever) with the desperation of utter longing. And as usual, Kozelek’s work just hurts so good.
—CelesteTabora

Mark Kozelek
What’s Next to the Moon
(Badman)
Llama Farmers
El Topo
(Beggars Banquet)
 The Llama Farmers have really kicked out a sonic masterpiece this time. El Topo explodes in range from delightful harmonies to distortion-dripping guitar anthems. With smart-ass vocals that jab at reality with sly menace and deadly irony, Bernie and Jenni Simpson take turns piloting this CD through its many moods.     “Postcards and Moonrocks” is a full-blown ballad without trying to be one that reaches right into what it means to be human with the simple question “Do you remember the time when we got drunk and danced to Marvyn Gaye?” And the rocker entitled “Doggy Fudge”, with fuzz on the guitar that sounds like a landing 747, had me diving for the repeat button.
    Part of what makes this record sensational is just damn brilliant production. First of all, the power of the drum sound knocks you into next week! Then they manage to use a zillion instruments, including a Wurlitzer Organ, Moog, Fender Rhodes Piano, Congas and various loops and noises without making any of it sound like a cheap gimmick or overdone. If played at high decibels, El Topo reveals new sounds and textures after each spin. It’s eclectic without being scattered, direct without being obvious and pure pop without being sappy or stupid. The constantly skilled guitar playing is the common thread that holds this entire record together. The electric guitar tracks collide with each other a la Pixies or Jesus and Mary Chain, and the acoustic strumming is priceless. If you wanted to use the word “British” as a compliment, this band would be why.

—Paul D. Dickinson


For the week of February 7th

The Movie Life
This Time Next Year
(Revalation Records)
 These punk rock lads lay it on thick with layers of melodic guitars and poetic, sing-song vocals. Yet there’s no shortage of raw angst and misbehavior, beginning with the first tune, “I Hope You Die Soon”—a brief little ditty that gets right to the point of willing an enemy’s extinction. But this collection of 12 songs expands far beyond the immediate adolescent satisfaction of well-placed hatred.
    With the title track, The Movie Life reveal a yearning for a true, defiant, and unrelenting method of progress in the line “Anything is better than wasting away...” Thunderous drums and that now-classic hard-core bass bottom run like a bullet train right through every damn song on the CD. It allows the guitars and vocals to float around in an unforgettable orbit. The seamless cavalcade of sound put forth by these dudes indeed reveals a real and throbbing cinematic fusion between life itself and a ruthless stack of Marshall Amps.
    For those of you who can’t understand the soothing therapy of bombastic bar chords delivered by a depraved wretch at high volume, you might want to tune out. But if you are slightly more than an innocent bystander, and if, in fact, you might be wanted for questioning, The Movie Life can be played at a local cinema near you: your very own skull.

—Paul D. Dickinson
“I don’t think you got it / But your hair do!”
    My first impression: Brynn Arens’ obnoxiousness is surprisingly charming. The kids dig ’em, and well, why not. This foursome is Minneapolis’ finest novelty. Flipp bring back the long lost tunes of Glam Rock. And they go all out—lead singer Arens even dons full make-up with bassist Freaky Useless in enormous platforms and full jumpsuit (enough to make even an avid platform shoe follower like me blush!) The faboo four recorded this in their hometown of Minneapolis as well as Seattle and Miami.
    The album’s sound is huge, with Rocky Horror-like sass. “Mr. Potato Head” resembles an even more tripped-out Beatles, a la Sgt. Pepper’s, while the rest (“Hair Do”, “Psycho-Babble”, “Oh Yeah”) are more Kiss-y. It seems Flipp’s main agenda and their strong point isn’t musicality, but rather their live show, which is all glam and glitz. Meaning that if you enjoy sensory overload as entertainment, Flipp is your band, darlin’.

—Celeste Tabora		 Flipp
Blow it Out Your Ass
(Rock Steady/Boxov Records)

Kate Campbell
Wandering Strange
(Eminent Records)

 Kate Campbell departs slightly from a background in folk to do this, her first gospel CD. Clearly influenced by both country and folk styles, she brings new life to old favorites, as well as showing a strong talent for songwriting. Her writing is pure and haunting like those old memories of home that come to you when you’re drifting close to sleep.
    Her use of the mandolin and the bouzouki, for example, on her rendition of “There is a Fountain” make a traditional melody into a something familiar, yet renovated to a new beauty. Those who enjoy folk music in any form will love this album...even those that might not grab for the gospel section. Kate Campbell has made me—shall we say—a new convert.
    For more information on Kate’s music, you can find all the answers on her website, www.katecampbell.com. She features CD giveaway contests regularly, which will likely become a fierce competition after hearing a listen to Wandering Strange.

—Heidi Fellner

For the week of January 31st, 2001

Dazy Head Mazy
Shift
(Angel Beach)

 The Twin Cities has quite a reputation for its pop outfits; the spectrum is well-rounded and complete. From Dylan to the Replacements, The Time and Husker Dü; all have changed the rules and manage to still sound original...all have redefined pop on their own terms. Dazy Head Mazy keep that tradition on track with the release of their sophomore effort, Shift. DHM formed in ’95, throwing four divergent styles into the hat and pulling out that award-winning character they sport today.
    The band is Will Bauermeister on vocals and 12-string guitar, Andrew Clark on drums and vocals, Justin Mishler on bass, Ben Wilinski on a variety of stringed instruments, and Corey Rae White on lead guitar. This is the group of guys that has been touring the states and playing upwards of 200 gigs a year.
    According to CMJ, The band’s first release, They’re All Wearing Pearls, has been selling in the 10 thousand range, and still counting. They are also currently making a mark on the college radio circuit. DHM’s songs are friendly, good-natured, well ordered, and sincere. The band seems totally steeped in Minnesota Nice. From opener “Red Sky” to the last tune “Shannon”, the band work the tunes to stick in your brain, and that’s exactly what happens.
    Mindful of the Twin Cities pop tradition, Dazy Head Mazy has put out an album of pure, kind pop ruminations. They take a neat, orderly approach to their music that leaves little or no room for self-indulgence or experimentation; this record is safe. Anyone who has seen their show knows the thrill and rapture of DHM’s live output. (They reputedly get the audience into quite a lather.) The thing is, is this is not their live set, and subsequently lacks some of the attendant energy. All that aside, local wizard Jellybean Johnson produced the first two tracks (almost worth the price of the disc). So, if pop is your cup of tea, this is definitely your record.

—T. Alexander
Bozart’s latest album, Bunge, is an honest and straightforward presentation of something two guys love to do—play music. Each of the seven tracks highlight a slightly different side of the art of Derek Oringer (drums and electric guitar) and Peter Hawkinson (electric guitar). The album starts off fast with “Anaconda Opportunity”— a stripped-down howl of distortion and power. Although the melody gets somewhat lost between the rapid meter changes and drum sequences, the actual song is a great collection of well-timed riffs. In “Moves Through Locked Doors” the hypnotic ostinati of percussion and guitar would surely drive you mad if it weren’t for some creative sonority shifts and harmonic pings. Like the first track, this song takes you to a darker place then you may be willing to go. “Set Aside” employs the same heavy sound and rapid virtuosity you would hear on an early Tool album. This tune, however, displays no real form. The droning monotony of the melodic pulse made me swear I was in some kind of pagan trance for half of this song.
    “Unlimited Thickness” is a refreshingly mellow tune, that finds Derek and Peter pulling together some nice chromaticism and intricate counterpoint. This song proves that although they like to dwell in the musical dark, Bozart can also play in the land of splendid light. “Unlimited Thickness” is a pleasant surprise. For Bozart, it’s all about saving the best for last—“Bunge” is the final track, and their best effort. With excellent texture and all-around variety, this song rocks out, no-holds-barred. The tempo changes and harmonic shifts showcase Bozart’s musical intelligence. “Bunge” serves as the melodic centerpiece for the album.
    Bozart are misanthropic. Their energy comes from a dark and shady place. Stylistically they are despondent and raw. They play with passion, and there is no doubt they are great craftsmen of the music they love.
                    —Dallas Apold
 Bozart
Bunge
(Independent)

Moveable Feast
Moveable Feast
(Independent)

 The following recipe is for the music connoisseur who is down with new twists on old styles—for the listener who can appreciate a moody, banquet-style blend of grooves and beats performed in a variety of styles and techniques.
    To make a Moveable Feast you will need: equal parts saxophone (Pete Vircks), drums (Kevin Washington), bass, (Jeffrey Bailey), percussion (Truth Maze) and keyboards (Tommy Barbarella). Combine on stove in a large pot, turn the burner to sizzle and allow ingredients to infuse each other with a sassy, saucy flavor. Slowly add in a few lounge-style grooves, a hip-hop flair, a touch of soothing jazz, several danceable beats and a dash of turntable seasoning to taste.
    When you have finished combining the ingredients, simply stir occasionally, invite a few friends over and dish up your very own Moveable Feast.
    With styles ranging from a sultry blue-light special to a 007-esque swagger to a classic jazz standard, Minneapolis-based Moveable Feast bring a lot to the (a-hem) table. This is no white tablecloth jive, however. These guys are all over the place, kickin’ the tasty jazzy concoctions. It’s definitely going to get messy, so bring a bib.
   
Moveable Feast play Friday, Feb. 2nd, at Jazzmine’s, 123 N. 3rd St., Mpls., 612-630-5299. Music starts 9:30 p.m., $10. They also play Sunday, Feb. 4th at Intermedia Arts, 2822 Lyndale Ave. S., Mpls., 612-871-4444, for the Encyclopedia of Hip-Hop Evolution Part II. Music starts 8 p.m., $6. The band has two gigs next week as well: Saturday, Feb. 10th at the Loring Bar, 1624 Harmon Pl., Mpls,. 612-642-1442, 9 p.m., $5. Friday, Feb. 16th, 9 p.m., The Dakota, 1021 E. Bandanna Blvd., St. Paul, 651-642-1442, $8.

For the week of January 24th, 2001

Alice Texas
Gold
(Independent)

 A lot of music these days seems to be about longing for what's missing in someone’s life. The debut release from New York City-based Alice Texas is no different. The trick is to turn that longing into something worth listening to, and Alice Texas succeeds with most of Gold.
    The title cut stands out as the defining moment of the album. But you have to wait until the end of the disc to hear it, and to pull the whole thing together. “Gold don’t have a taste / But if it did / It’d taste like / Honey and poison and hope / Like him like him like him / Lord how it shines.”
    Get the picture? Vocalist Alice Schneider sings her longing with a voice reminiscent of Kristen Hersh combined with a backing band that’s equal parts Bad Seeds and Cowboy Junkies. Providing a solid background for Schneider are bassist Robert Vickers of the Go Betweens, drummer/percussionist Jim Sclavunos of Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds and Sonic Youth, and guitarist Peter Mavrogeorgis.
    Gold is full of spiritual yearning and desire for redemption. “Guardian Angel” showcases Schneider’s voice with very little instrumental backing—an effect consistent with much of the album’s sparseness. “Stick with me boy / I could make you really happy / I’ll be your guardian angel,” she sings. In a lyrical twist, she adds that crucial element of longing, “I call your name, boy/ But you only want to be free....you’re my guardian angel.”
    While not ground-breaking material, there is a definite familiarity and ease to Gold that gets better with each listen. The only real clinker is “Chase
the Rabbit”, an uninspired song about dog racing with an almost Metallica-esque musical accompaniment. Baring that one lemon, Gold is a solid effort all around.

–Trent Schroeder
While many of today’s rap acts today do little more than shout above a lame-ass dub tape, this latest release by Jay-Z elevates him to some type of Kung Fu rap master.
    Mr. Z swims right in the middle of a sophisticated groove that includes real scratch mixing and the playing of actual instruments (!) And just when things start to get too hardcore, he smoothes them out. Bouncy keyboards and slick female back-ups glimmer through many of these tracks. A renegade spirit is evident everywhere, but there seems to be a real drive and purpose behind the attitude. Players, bitches, cars and guns all make an appearance here, yet there is a sense of balance in this record, as if it is a direct broadcast about both the terror and delights of the urban experience.
    Don’t make the mistake of filing this under easy listening, however. It’s full of aggression and bravado. The Jigga-Man won’t be on A Prairie Home Companion anytime soon (to his credit). And in an era where cameos by fellow stars are commonplace, Jay-Z’s invites are well-served.     In “Get Your Mind Right Mami”, Snoop Dogg helps him kick out the best track on the record, an amazing little ditty about trying to find the best gangster girlfriend. On “Guilty until Proven Innocent”, the album’s most political track, Jay-Z calls in R. Kelly to soften his rhetoric, and it works. All in all, this is a satisfying chunk of plastic. The diversity and texture of Jay-Z’s approach may indeed spawn a dynasty of sound, a nation of beats, a universe of groove.

—Paul D. Dickinson
 Jay-Z
The Dynasty Rock La Familia
(Rock A Fella)

M-Boogie
Laid in Full: Chapter 2
(Ill Boogie Records)

 M-Boogie’s second installment of the Laid in Full compilations spotlights the in-house talent behind the mixers and mics of this prolific LA-based indie label. Known for his excellent battle record series, Vinyl Vengeance, on Blackberry Records, as well as a flurry of full-length and single releases in the last year by up-and-coming West Coast rappers (such as Mykill Myers’ solo album It’s Been a Long Time Coming), M-Boogie is among a few Los Angeles producers working hard to reclaim Cali’s underground cred.
    The effort mostly pays off here, with an even blend of “roots” manifesto, hardcore thug frontin’ & old skool cut ’n’ paste tricknology. Nothing that’s gonna change Webster’s definition of hip hop, but what kept me checking the notes, though, is an unmistakable west coast funk that creeps into the blend on cuts like “A Different Design” w/ Yeshua & J-Hon, “Mind Wars” w/ ERule, and “The Real”, feat. Buckshot.          Proving that the sum of hip-hop is greater than its parts, the more bubblin’ licks on the CD—such as “Hot Ya Hot” featuring Akbar—paint a more convincing image of authentic hip-hop in the 2G as a naturally evolved freeform art, rather than the stripped-down drudgery of a lot of the product I hear from the “Keepin’ it Real” camp. The continuously mixed CD blazes through 28 tracks of non-stop battle cuts. However, it does come up short in overall production quality and fidelity, like much of US indie hip-hop, which keeps me from really digging a lot of these cats. If you’re feelin’ strictly-4-tha-streets-type-joints you’ve probably already got this; if you’re still looking for underground hip-hop you can feel, your ears probably won’t shrivel up listening to this, so check it.

—Paul Allen

 

For the week of January 10th, 2001


Mad Hatter
Destination Fallen Scars
(Independent)

 Mad Hatter was formed two years ago by guitarist Mat Johnson, who got together with drummer Brent Starlo, and bassist Adri Mehra. and second guitarist Mike Sandstedt. These guys, who are still in their teens, cut their teeth playing coffee bars and the now-defunct Foxfire Lounge. The quartet have thrown in their lots and put out a CD that is a fair representation of their live set.
    Destination Fallen Scars shakes, sputters and meanders through a taut daydream with off-kilter beauty. The rhythm guitars sound like shooting notes wrapped in tinfoil. The band has an emotional underpinning and chiming guitars that owe much to the likes of Jane’s, Slint and Television. The lyrics envisage a sort of loose approximation of symbolist poetry, allowing these guys to convey strong feeling when it comes to the whisper-to-a-scream school of rock. What Mad Hatter do almost borders on jazz, an effect that creates an easy intensity—the same sort of sparks that peppered the work of Big Brother & the Holding Company nearly two generations ago.
    The subjects of DFS include health, relationships and the thoughts that rattle around inside the songwriter’s head. A fine example is the way the lyrics of “Plastic” reflect losing oneself in the effort to forget personal pain, which in this case refers specifically to a “tortured artist” mentality. The gentle reflectiveness of this piece gives way to the booming, border-line bombast of a progressive rock, Black Flag/West Coast hardcore sound.
    With a sound that makes them second cousins of Big Head Todd & the Monsters and Nirvana, Mad Hatter would make a fine opener for the Pins or Skye Klad. Their music is reminiscent of older jam bands like Caravan and Soft Machine, as well as the rest the Canterbury School, even though it’s doubtful that these guys have ever heard of any of those bands.
    As first albums go, Destination Fallen Scars is an auspicious beginning. It exhibits an original take on post-alternative forms of music, and the band would sound great with a producer like John Cale on their next album. This is the kind of band Pere Ubu heralded so many years ago. Mad Hatter is a true local original.

—T. Alexander

This self-released, self-produced epic LP is quite a bizarre journey. It makes perfect sense that this is an independent release; I don’t believe John Snell’s vision could really be trusted to anyone else. Fearless and unique, Snell the 10th delivers a product that truly defies description, but I’ll do my damn best.
    The Alien Highway is indulgence, experimentation, hallucination and deviation all rolled into one chunk of plastic. His claim that he is the 10th begins to make sense the more you listen to the record— after a while it does feel like he belongs to a wise tribe that has wandered the earth for generations.      Snell’s big-eyed wonder and strident determination to pry into the mysteries of life defines the otherworldly presence of his music. Yet it isn’t all starflakes and moonbeams. In “Kosovo”, his voice reaches out of the mist and asserts: “My thoughts are stuck on war / And those shot and killed in Kosovo / A grand slam by the bat of genocide.” He goes on to stare glaringly into the lights of life, sometimes with a fractured mirror, other times with a telescope.
    Layers of sound build up and fall away, as these nine tunes wander their own peaks and valleys. Via a concoction of 4-track, 16-track ADAT and some fine mastering, Snell pounds eons of sound into every frequency. He is refreshingly out of the loop—devoid of trend-hopping or cute posturing while he blasts away within his dream world. Snell’s ’70s-style effort to make an actual album, a now lost and ancient art, makes The Alien Highway a compelling work that is indeed worthy of investigation.

—Paul D. Dickinson

John Snell X CD release party, Wednesday, Jan. 10th at Minneapolis’ Fine Line Music Cafe, 318 First Av. N. Tickets $3 door. Doors 8:30 p.m., music starts 9 p.m. 21 + ID show. Cellophane and John Hermanson also play. Call the Fine Line for more information at 612-338-8100.

 John Snell X
The Alien Highway
(Independent)

Pele
The Nudes
(Polyvinyl Record Co.)

 “Gone is the art of the instrumental,” I said to him matter-of-factly...I brought up songs like “Axel F” and the theme to Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, pointing out that those possibly were the last successful pop hits sans vocals...However, I overlooked bands like The Sea And Cake, Euphone and Pele, all of whom are keeping the spirit of non-lyrical expressionism alive.
    Sometimes the best way to say something is to not say anything at all, and Pele communicate beauty with repetitious guitar melodies, steady bass and exceptional drumming. A plethora of feelings is clearly conveyed without use of words, a feat which is uncommon in this day and age of mediocre composition.          Thus, Pele make a grand impression. The only regret I have is a desire for more after only eight tracks on The Nudes. A perfect addition to the Indie Rock music elitist’s collection.

—Celeste Tabora

For the week of January 3rd, 2001

Skye Klad
Skye Klad
(Independent)

 Picture Jim Morrison fronting Black Sabbath and inviting you on a journey across the space time continuum. Now take away the musical innovation and sense of audience of the aformentioned, and you get a picture of Skye Klad. Formed two years ago at the U of M Duluth, Skye Klad purport to be a “sonic research unit” who create through their music “aurally induced space time vortices”. Playing a brand of psychedelic rock, their lyrics include imagery of interstellar travel and gypsy queens…which for us cynics sounds dangerously close to a load of crap. But despite the band’s willful anti-pop attempt to entertain, their music lacks the experimentation that their imaginations seem to reach for—they just can’t make the instruments do their bidding.
    The music style is interesting at points, with Sabbath-like guitar tones complimented by a surf/go-go rhythm section. But “Hey guys, let’s get stoned and jam” could be a phrase these guys used one too many times while writing these songs. The continuous drone of the bass lines plays over and over without much variation, leaving you wishing that the bassist would just take off the shackles and go fucking crazy, already. Likewise, the drummer would do well to go nuts and show us something, because as it stands, he doesn’t impress.
    Skye Klad make interesting bar music for sure, but not anything you’re going to spin repeatedly at home. What the album has in groove and move-your-ass sensibility, it lacks in ingenuity and structure. Although they have much potential, Skye Klad lack the hooks and the energy to make both the similarly spaced-out listener and the unentranced cynic forgive the cheesy imagery. They make the standard lo-fi band mistake of mixing the vocals mixed way low, which means either their vocalist isn’t that good or their producer/sound engineer doesn’t know how to mix a record. I would’ve been amazed by this disc if they had spent maybe one or two more months writing their songs, adding a bridge here or a variation there. Basically, Skye Klad need the fine-tuning that an experienced producer could lend.
    For all its faults, this disc has definitely grown on me. As much as it might offend them, with the right amount of professionalism in the studio and pro know-how, these guys could definitely write some killer POP tunes if they weren’t trying so hard to keep everything in the stratosphere.
—Brady Kiernan


   


Kate Rusby
Sleepless
(Compass)

   

   

Beauty and simplicity are truly sisters in Kate Rusby’s Sleepless. Her folk ballads transport a listener across the Atlantic to the rocky shores of the British Isles and back to a simpler time. She keeps her melodies lines raw, and her lyrics heartfelt. Though her taste in material resembles that of Loreena McKennitt, Rusby often performs her tunes without the complex rearrangement that characterizes other folk groups. The result is a more mournful, powerful sound. Rusby’s voice is simply transfixing. Her earthy vocals do marvelous justice to her melodies. The album would make the perfect soundtrack for Braveheart-fans of the movie who skip over the “battle” tracks will love Kate’s music. It’s the kind of music that makes people wish that they had a Celtic ancestry, just so they could lay claim to one small piece of what Sleepless describes. You won’t play this CD while running around in the kitchen, but rather on one of those nights where you sip hot tea, completely absorbed by the view of a foggy Minneapolis night.
—Heidi Fellner

 

  For the week of December 27th

Shot to Hell
This Band Right Here is Called...
(Quadra)

 Using comparisons to describe Shot To Hell is relatively useless. This hard hitting cow-punk trio from LaCrosse covers more ground than a stampeding herd of pissed off buffalo. They’ll hit you in the face as hard as any prize fighter one minute, then turn on the high and lonesome sad sounds of the pedal steel the next.
STH definitely wear their boots as proud as any honky-tonkin Willie Neslson lovin cow poke. With one foot firmly planted in today’s indy-garage rock and one firmly planted in yesterday’s country horse-apple. Shot To Hell makes the combination of country sensibility and punk ethos work better than most.
They deliver rock solid tunes throughout their debut disc; This Band Right Here is Called... Each song stands on its own and the album flows well from cover to cover. The surprise of the record, is the neo-mod sounds of the track “Super Thoughts.” From the first note, the tune seemed to jump out of the speakers with the kind of force that bands like the Who and Kinks possessed. A “great revelation” indeed!
The album is full of songs about love and hate like “Missionary” “She’s like a missionary prosteletizing hate, and I’m going to her church but I got no faith,” to the social satire of ”Brighter Future” “Sometimes I sit and contemplate what’s become of our great land, when they’re spending $14 billion on new ways to kill a man...”
The best thing about STH, is their unique ability to write songs that draw you in on the first listen...but are deep enough to keep you coming back again and again. Aaron Monte leans into his guitar playing with whisky soaked gusto, and his voice as a songwriter tells stories in the same manner.
If you’re into well crafted songs, smart lyrics, blistering guitar work and a fresh and honsest approach, do yourself a favor and check out This Band Right Here is Called...
Shot to Hell are fresh of a batch of high-profile shows opening for the likes of Hank III and Elejandro Escovedo in Iowa, and should be rolling into the Twin Cities early in the new year. They’re currently getting radio play on Juno Beach, and radio stations on both coasts.

Shot to Hell’s self recorded album This Band Right Here is Called.... should be on local shelves, and is available for review and purchase at Junobeach.com. and www.shot2hell.com

-Jack Norman

 

For the week of December 20th

If you enjoy spending time in that blissful dreamworld between sleep and consciousness, the music of 23-year-old Emiliana Torrini may sound hauntingly familiar to you. Like the music of dreamy popsters Portishead, Emiliana’s 2000 debut, Love in the Time of Science, paints a soundscape of lazy, pulsing drumbeats, space-y samplings and easy, light-as-air melodies that practically invent themselves as they float through the songs.
    The young Icelandic songstress’ material is less polished than that of her veteran UK counterparts. But one spin of Love in the Time of Science will convince you that this newcomer’s greatest musical virtue is the unpredictable and unaffected freshness she imparts to her material with playful, daydream-y lyrics and slow-motion grooves. Not everyone, for example, can pull off a line like “Guess it’s time for a walk just to read some license plates” (“Tuna Fish”). But Emiliana delivers all her lyrics with a warmth and sincerity that is not only somewhat foreign to the genre of electronica, but draws a listener in with all the urgency of a childhood best friend whispering a secret in your ear.
    Perhaps Emiliana’s conspiratorial insistence is what makes her music so intimate and believeable. She frequently opts for obscure references and childishly exuberant metaphors. But instead of creating a lyrical stumbling block, her offbeat, poetic innocence is compelling, and ultimately convincing, even when dealing with matters of the heart.
    While many artists shed proverbial tears of pain over lost loves, Emiliana allows for the moodiness of ambiguity to creep into her story of a relationship’s end: “Of course I was hurt, but then I started to think / It shouldn’t hurt me to be free/ It’s what I really need / To pull myself together / But if it’s so good being free / Would you mind telling me / Why I don’t know what to do with myself?”          Additionally, Emiliana gives equal play to stories about relationships that don’t necessarily involve romance, such as “Unemployed in Summertime”, the first single from the album. “Unemployed” is an ode to enjoying with a best friend youthful indulgences like getting drunk on a beautiful summer day, reading trashy mags and “[Staying] awake until the morning / With make-up all over my face.”   
    Love boasts the talents of many acoustic and electronic musicians, the combination of which offers a unique balance between organic, down-to-earth ballads and ethereal, trippy detours into lala land.
    Emiliana shares writing credits for several of these languishing sonic indulgences with ’90s British popster Eg White, as well as producing credits with Tears for Fears’ Roland Orzabal. Together, they have created an admirable debut for what promises to be a very rich journey for Emiliana into the dreamy world of acoustic-electronica.

—Erin Anderson		 Emiliana Torrini
Love in the Time of Science
(Virgin)

Various Artists
H.E.A.R. This
(Sub City)

 Leave it to Sub City to rally the troops for such a good cause. Hopeless affiliate Louis Posen created Sub City in late ’98. His idea was to create a label that would give five per cent (roughly 70 cents per CD) to a charity of the artist’s choosing. For example: The Weakerthans give a percentage of their earnings to a clinic in the Winnipeg area. To date this label has contributed over $50,000 to various charitable institutions.
    When Ginger Coyote lost her friend, Nick Traina, she felt she had to do something in his honor. Coyote got together with Posen to put out a compilation of different bands. The goal was to raise awareness of hearing loss and damage. Thus, the H.E.A.R. This (Hearing Education and Awareness for Rockers) compilation became a reality. Coyote gathered friends that have played music both now and in the past to combine forces and create this record.
    Part of the fun of this disc is the irony of the fact that this is a collection of some of the loudest, snottiest bands to ever record. It’s a mix of both new and old. Some new bands on this record are Damnation, Jon Cougar Concentration Camp, Link 80 and Coyote’s band, White Trash Debutantes. Older bands include The Lewd, The Avengers, The Vktms and Contractions. In addition to the stateside featured, the album includes bands from around the world like Shonen Knife, Electric Summer and The Tedio Boys.
    Check your local record store for this release, or go on-line to www.subcity.net. Never has giving to charity been such rollicking good, loud fun
Twin Cities locals The Hidden Chord are one of the most promising bands to come out of this area in a while. Covering all the bases, the recording is not only an accurate representation of the band’s live performance, it also has a very genuine quality to it as well. The “live” sound of “Morse Code” make you hunger to catch them live, and the distant keyboards on “She’s Got it All” and “All Economy Day” comes at you with a ’60s Mod feel. It’s obvious that The Hidden Chord took great care with their preproduction. They created a garagey sound that comes across well, unlike many sloppy achievements of others who also gave this sound a try. Punkish, Modish, or however you want to refer to it, it’s all rock and roll. Tate, Severns, Buettner and Hart should be proud of their efforts. This record is one of the top ten exceptional and original local releases of 2000.

—Celeste Tabora

The Hidden Chord play Friday, Dec. 22nd at Eclipse Records in St. Paul, 1692 Grand Ave. Music starts 8 p.m., free. Call 651-698-0908 for more info. Selby Tigers and Plastic Constellations also play.

 The Hidden Chord
Eight Blue Eyes
(Blood of the Young/Heart of a Champion)


For the week of December 13th


Remember the old Reese’s commercials, where a chance collision resulted in one person’s chocolate bar improbably violating the other’s jar of peanut butter? It is little short of amazing that, in the not-so-distant past, people had to be convinced to embrace such impurity. By now, the idea of great tastes that taste great together has become a fundamental given, and beyond the “your-chocolate-bar-is-in-my-peanut-butter” anxieties of old, complete complacency has set in about unlikely mixtures and weird hybrids that surround us daily.
    But even amidst the onslaught of “equatorial cuisine” and postmodern fashion, the newest record from guitarist Tim Sparks stands out as an extreme. The tastes here are ample, their fusion unpredictable. Tanz starts with diasporic Jewish songs, from locales as far-flung as Yemen and Tin Pan Alley, undergirds them with the sounds of Brazilian percussionist Cryo Baptista, and puts the whole enterprise under the production supervision of avant-jazz uberlegend John Zorn. Thus, the collection celebrates cultural tradition while eclectically challenging the very idea of tradition itself. Sparks has built a reputation as a master, capable of inducing noodelirium while his limber fingers dance across the frets. Guitar enthusiasts will find much here to celebrate, especially on cuts that feature Sparks in solo mode, without Baptista and bassist Greg Cohen. Superficially, songs like “Fufzhen Yahr Fon Der Heim Awek” (Fifteen Years Away from Home) are smooth enough to function as background music at a blandly bourgeois restaurant. But this is not the work of a stable of Muzak technicians marshalling the world’s most advanced psycho-musical technologies—this is one guy, six strings, and a seemingly infinite number of fingers. Just as complex but deceptively direct are those songs that feature his backup musicians. Setting up Sparks’ bluesy solos, Baptista and Cohen energize the likes of “Araber Tanz” and “Wie Bist Die Gewesen Vor Prohibition?” (What Were You Doing Before Prohibition?), effortlessly sliding through jarring changes of tempo and harmony as if the musics of South America, Dagestan and Romania were meant to be thrown together.              Anyone who has heard a surf guitarist hash out the “Hava Nagila” or been entranced by Ofra Haza’s lilting contribution to Eric B. and Rakim’s “Paid in Full,” knows how a quick dose of cultural appropriation can help to animate a genre’s conventions. But Tanz isn’t an exercise in globalist gimmickry; Sparks’ complicated fusions display not only musical ability (in the Persian “Hila Wasa”, for example, three different, simultaneous time signatures cohere instead of colliding) but also a willingness to think outside of the norm. With Tanz, vision and technique work together, and Sparks bends genres as confidently as he does strings.

—Andrew Knighton

Tim Sparks plays Thursday, Dec. 14th at the Cedar Cultural Center, 416 Cedar Avenue, Mpls. Music starts ?? p.m. Tickets $??. Call the Cedar for more information at 612-338-2674.


 Tim Sparks
Tanz
(Tzadig)

Fizzy Lifter
Pop it In
(Independent)

 As Fizzy Lifter’s name implies, they write and perform in a realm where the carefree spirit of Saturday morning television and the oh-so-chic fashion and attitudes of the ’80s collide and explode into a squall of multi-colored confetti.
Pop it In is a digitized sixth grade party where the parents have left the kids to their own devices to eat too many sweets, stay up too late and wake the neighbors. “Ice Cream Vendor” is the standout of the disc. From the opening ice cream truck chimes to the song’s lyrical candy, this very pop song will appeal to the kid in all of us. With lyrics like “Raspberry rocket ship / Strawberry swirl / King gumball galaxy / Queen dairy curl / Lemon lime lollipop / Tangerine twirl / Tastee.com is my favorite URL to visit...exquisite”, Fizzy lifter offer confectionary delights as the energetic music and sweet background falsettos that accompany them swirl around in your head. Though this kind of bubblegum pop might sound ridiculous coming from another band, Fizzy Lifter make it fun because they have a genuinely good time doing it. (I wouldn’t expect anything less from a band who on a previous album included a song that mentions every character in the Scooby-Doo entourage.) Whether it’s candy-coated pop, breezy island beats or their self described “phat funky beats with a rap happy delivery”, Fizzy Lifter are strictly out for a good time.
    “Spaceship Riviera” is a ska-infused, catchy tune that uses effects straight off Disneyworld’s harrowing Space Mountain. Songs such as this make it feel like summertime despite the fact that a Minneapolis winter rages outside, and “Spaceship Riviera” has all the necessary ingredients of a college party favorite.
Fizzy Lifter stick their fingers in a few more musical pies throughout the remainder of this six song disc. The quirkiness of ’80s new wave (think B-52s, Oingo Boingo) is present in “Icebox” and “IDS”, a perky tale of a corporate executive jumping from the downtown Minneapolis skyscraper.
    Unfortunately, the blemish on the disc is a big one. “Sick” is a very unsoulful white suburban attempt at rap, with every imaginable hip-hop cliché embarrassingly obvious. I give you, reader, the credit of understanding exactly what I’m talking about so I wont elaborate any further...a’ight?
Pop it In is an enhanced CD that includes a video of a cool new wave romp called “Go-Go Boots.” The song typifies the glittery-glam-bubbly-sugar pop that his band does best and should expand on. Check out MP3.com/Fizzy Lifter for more information on their sweet concoctions.

—David Rangel
Local record guy Mike Siddal has done it again. His label, DoublePlusGood, has brought the driving strains of H. Chinaski to the Twin Cities, and now he has brought the oppressive sludge of the Spiveys (pronounced SPY-vees) from Chicago.
    Thematically, V is similar to Radiohead’s latest offering, Kid A. Both albums serve as a reminder that things are only as good (or bad) as you make them. But while Radiohead wake you gently, the Spiveys crash into your bedroom wall like a runaway freight train. And where Kid A likes to explore the recesses of the inner self, V is the sonic equivalent of a pure energy blast coming from one singular point somewhere deep inside. Or the way it would feel to be sloe gin drunk on a roller coaster. The Spiveys exhibit same brutal-yet-playful energy of the Cows, and yet the whole record sneaks in under the wire at just short of 30 minutes.
    These guys have to be in great shape; this music must hurt to make. A shower of musical magnesium sparkles a listener with white hot sonic embers, and the album even shakes with some of the same snotty power in which Neil Young occasionally indulges.

—T. Alexander


 Spiveys
V
(DoublePlusGood)





For the week of December 6th

“Don’t kill the mood”: A mantra of sorts for the Twin Cities’ best kept electronic secret, Pleasant Stitch. PS is a legitimate band with feet in both the electronic and temporal worlds. It is important to note that PS create all the textures and layers of their music live. According to bass/synth player Carty Fox, there is no “‘man behind the curtain’...no click track, no dat tape, no cd in the background.”
    “We actually do play everything live,” explains synth/sampler Bob DeMaa. “It’s like a trapeze without a net,” adds Fox. “The layers are built in ways that if we need to do something different live, we can do that,” finishes electronic drums/synth player Will Pierce.
    Pleasant Stitch, rounded off by Sarah-Jane on vocals, is certainly not your average “booty shaking” electronica. The music they create comes close to what Pink Floyd dabbled in for Dark Side of the Moon: The manipulation of brainwaves through sound. Everyone’s heard of brainwaves, right? Then we all know that certain sounds trigger specific brain-wave activity. Think dreamy, cool, meditative. Think a sonic wash of gentle rhythm and more vocal styles than you thought possible coming from a single mouth.
    Pleasant Stitch’s strength lies in the way they work outside traditional models of electronic and modern music. They’re just as comfortable playing with aggressive distortion as they are playing at a whisper.         
    The band has been working on their newly-released, self-titled album for over two years, and the attention to detail and craft shows. But the band feels they really come into groove when they perform live by making things more dynamic and playing with different elements of their music. “Suddenly we play our live set and it’s almost involuntary....we’re not so tied to our (musical) tools,” says Sarah-Jane.
Zack Norton

Pleasant Stitch plays Wed., Dec. 6 at The Entry, 7th St., Mpls. Doors at 8 p.m. Tickets $5. Call 612-338-8388 for more info. Near Death Picnic opens, followed by Pleasant Stitch. Flora with msngr ends with spoken word performance. 21+ show.		 Pleasant Stitch
Pleasant Stitch
(Independent)

Marz
Lung Fu Mo She
(E-Magine)

 This is an action-packed thriller of dark grooves and slicing guitars. Just when I think I’m punch-drunk from a mind-numbing turbo blast of metal mania and deviant rap ranting, these songs twist around and keep me on the edge of my seat, waiting for more. More is indeed is delivered, with a vengeance. Aggressive and impulsive, full of swagger and bravado, Marz reveals a world of dementia and top-secret delights.
    But the music is also impressively sophisticated. Slick keyboards, jazzy guitar blurts and obscure samples fill every sonic corner. High speed rapping flutters across the CD like some type of hard-core haiku. But within the rhymed insanity of the lyrics, there is nevertheless a method and meaning to their menace, as the guys struggle with a cruel world and put it in a headlock. Marz pulls no punches, and backs their heavy swagger with quality substance. Extremely well done.

Paul D. Dickinson

Marz will perform Thursday, Dec. 7th at The Lab, 201 E. 4th St., St. Paul. Music starts 8 p.m. Tickets $5 for 21+, $7 for 18+. Call The Lab for more info, 651-298-0173. Stigma opens.
With rowdy percussion, distortion-laden guitars and agressive vocals, Minneapolis-based International Robot is your typical crunchy three-piece garage punk band. And that is precisely why you should head to one of their four upcoming local performances to catch the enthusiastic (if slightly off-key) and humor-tinged lyrical offerings of vocalist/guitarists Brian Shuey and Dan Henry, as well as vocalist/bassist Morgan Kinnaman.
    Solid bass lines and corresponding heavy riffs are the driving force behind International Robot (formerly The Solids, before they discovered another band by the same name somewhere on the East Coast), who have been playing shows locally and in Chicago for about a year.    
    The great thing about the trio is their ability to balance their pull-out-all-the-stops, rock-out intensity with a lighthearted musical attitude. Basically, these are serious musicians that don’t take themselves too seriously.
Erin Anderson

International Robot CD release party Friday, Dec. 9 at The Terminal Bar, 409 E. Hennepin Ave., Mpls. Music starts 9:30 p.m. Tickets $3. Call 612-623-4545 for more info. The F-Bombs and the Customers open. IR also play Christensen’s Dec. 8th, Lee’s Liquor Lounge Dec. 12th and The Entry Dec. 14th.		 International Robot
International Robot
(Solidsound Music)

 

For the week of November 15th, 2000

music5.gif (14379 bytes) Party of One
Dead Violet Shannon
(Mother of All Music)
Eric Fifteen chooses his words carefully. He takes tender, painstaking care that each syllable reaches certain resonance, then inspects them carefully. He sets them like jewels in precious metal mounting. This record is a concept album that challenges common perceptions of things like religion, marriage, and gender roles. With subject matter of this magnitude you would expect it to be forlorn and weighty, yet even when it’s heavy handed it’s filled to the brim with sly humor and just plain cool guitar playing.

Party of One is Fifteen and Geoff McKusick. Fifteen builds his songs like castles; some seem like a house of cards. The songs all blend into one massive piece that holds a mirror to all personal aspects of everyday life. It’s easy to get the impression that Fifteen spends a lot of time in the studio.

The sounds on this disc have some of the moodiness of those good old rock records by bands like Roxy Music. It also exhibits all that’s good about glam rock. Quick to utilize voice and tone, the more experimental things sound like Sun City Girls or Tom Verlaine solo stuff. This disc is a labyrinth of sounds and moods that goes from the preposterous to sublime and back in rapid succession. This is a pretty cool record.
T. Alexander
wpe9.jpg (6795 bytes) Gluecifer
Tender Is The Savage
(Sub Pop)
Holy shit! Someone has recalled those pre-glam rock days of lore. Like early Motley Crue meets... well, meets everyone else of that genre and kicks their asses! Leaders of the Scandinavian rock revolution, Gluecifer seemed to have abandoned their faster, more punk roots. The savage is not in any way tender as far as this album is concerned. This double disc presents all that is tough and testosterone-y about rock n’ roll. With their fashion and leather savoir-faire, they probably have the king of rock n’ roll himself thrusting his fist in his grave. (Or non-grave to you non-believers out there.)

“Ducktail Heat” is a great representative of their overall sound. It’s stuffed with fast chord changes (ooh it’s riff heavy!) and has a racing drum beat with almost indiscernible vocals. The following track, “The General Says” presents that pre-glam rock sound that I mentioned above.

Van Halen anyone? The songs are aggressive and make me want to break bottles over people’s heads while showing off my tight black pants donning a lip curl. Uh huh.

Tender Is The Savage was produced by Daniel Rey, best known for his work with The Ramones and The Misfists. This isn’t the angst-filled rock n’ roll we’ve learned to tolerate or become accustomed to this is the O.G. (original) shit that fans of MTV’s Headbangers Ball would live for. Yeaow!
Celeste Tabora
Barlow/Petersen/Wivinus
Self-Titled
(Independent)
This is a “wiggly” masterpiece! These gentlemen take DIY to a completely different level. This is trance music for the coffee generation. The psychedelic structure is bottomless. Here we have all manner of strange things. Bits and pieces from the halls of eternity litter the landscape of this recording. Most notability it often sounds like fragments of the never delivered music that Jimmy Page did for Kenneth Angers’ Lucifer Rising. Brian Eno and Robert Fripp made some records like this, and so did the Doors, and Soft Machine. This is solid cosmic trip-out.

What we have here is a little more than an hour of brain movie music that expands with a tumultuous torpor. This is the soundtrack to star travel. The music on this disc touches on many different quarters for its inspiration. Sometimes it sounds like The Velvet Underground, other times like LaMonte Young; Pink Floyd is never too far, either. This album is vaguely sinister with its resounding knells and haunting drones. This could be soothing to some, and annoyingly distracting to less adventurous listeners.
T. Alexander
16 Horsepower
Secret South
(Tie & Razor)

The parallels of 16 Horsepowers’ album Secret South and Sam Peckenpahs’ ‘68 classic, The Wild Bunch are too numerous to go into here. Both have an emotionally charged story to tell. Both are stories of men who are being hounded by authority and the fact that they are out of time with the world around them. Both tell a story, that in lesser hands would be either corny or trite.

The song ‘Wayfaring Stranger’ recalls the account of someone who has run out of time, a theme that is addressed in the film. It is the perfect tale for the turn of the century. The last one, or this one. While 16 Horsepower come off like a bunch of hostile outlaws, they also have the air of a souped-up jug band. The music is as fresh as it is dated. Where the movie explores the idea of commitment, the album too, seems to speak, if not outwardly, to suggest sticking to ones ideals. Both talk about keeping a code of honor even unto death. It’s not the same as Dark Side of the Moon and The Wizard of Oz, but the two have some certain themes in common. Both are highly recommended.
.......T. Alexander...
music7.gif (10793 bytes) Gjallarhorn
Sjofn
(Northside)

“Sjofn is an ancient Nordic goddess who awakens the love and passion between people.” This is the first sentence in the liner notes. This disc is dedicated to that goddess; it is an ode to the grandeur of music used in rites and ceremonies in the generations’ passed. Gjallarhorn are a traditional group that employs some modern ideas about how things should sound. Incorporating Nordic traditional music of the Swedes of Finland. One of the songs is a lament; some are like jigs and reels.

Jenny Wilhelms is the key singer. Wilhelms also plays fiddle; Christopher Ohan plays viola, Mandola also sings. Tommy Manikka-Aho plays—now get this: didgeridoo, along with jews harp among other things. David Lillkvist rounds things out on various ethnic percussion instruments.

This is modern music played on traditional instruments with traditional themes. This is theme music for Knut Hamson. This band employs amazing focused.
T. Alexander
music6.gif (15602 bytes) Barfly
Intervention
(Form)

With The Seagram’s Corporation owning 24 percent of the major record label market, it’s not that crazy that some band would try to aim their music straight at the liquor buying public. Barfly may be attempting to pander to the big money moguls. Taking their name from a Charles Bukowski screenplay, this Minneapolis trio has some goofy ideas about sobriety.

Barfly is Tyler Dean on guitar, Graham Herceg on bass and Tim Watts on drums. All the guys sing. It’s hard, however to shake the feeling they never really get excited enough to pull the songs off properly. The emotion seems forced; put on.

Nothing stands out on this disc. The stuff sounds like Gin Blossoms without the wide production values. While the guys are good players, they keep everything at the same level, nothing seems to break too far from their basic pattern. They never seem to reach their potential. Where the songs are good, the presentation is lacking. Where Bukowski used his tales of drunkenness to communicate the basic foibles of the human creature, it’s as if Barfly simply has an adolescent fascination with drinking and it’s attendant behavior. If these guys grow past this phase, they could have some valuable things to say in the future.
T. Alexander
EC8OR
The One and Only High and Low
(Digital Hard Core)

If you don’t think its sexy to have your head put in a vice while someone blasts various beeping and distorting electronics with rabid screaming, let this band expand your horizons. Hailing from Berlin, EC8OR consists of two keyboard/moog/beatbox maniacs named Patric Catani and Gina V D’Orio.

It’s like they have wonder twin powers and can melt down any frequency they can get their hands on. They take low fi technology and jam it, cram it and run it like a battering ram into unsuspecting brain cells. “Give me NyQuil all night long” extols the virtue of the famous nocturnal sedative over distorted drum and hiss attack. But it is the coy “Ready for You” where the sultry and dangerous Gina makes me want to attempt to fly on the doomed Concorde Jet , just one last time.
.......Paul D. Dickinson


For the week of November 8th, 2000

music2.gif (20625 bytes) Sherman Electric
Self-Titled
(Independent)