Record Reviews
The Mendoza Line
originally published November 16, 2005
For those who don’t follow baseball, the “Mendoza line” is the worst average a hitter can maintain without landing in the minors. The likewise-named classicist guitar pop outfit (from Brooklyn, formerly of Athens) sings songs for those characters sitting one major trauma away from the nuthouse, the joint or the grave.
The new one, Full of Light and Full of Fire, still hosts the puns, put-downs and Westerberg-sized ego of Timothy Bracy at stage center, but his populist wit has never had a broader scope. Like previous records, its straightahead score (nothing Petty wouldn’t do) lets it play out like a collection of dry short stories, and this time they’re not all about sex and alcohol. By the end of track one, a woman has already contemplated drowning her infant; in classic Mendoza fashion, she collects sympathy only by defiantly refusing it. Right away, Shannon McArdle, once the soulful foil to Bracy’s self-hating barfly, takes on a more complex role.
Lyrically, the band does fall into its old pattern: a) provide pithy analysis on a doomed sexual liaison (“Catch A Collapsing Star”); b) insult clingy loser (“Rat’s Alley”); c) insult self and sex partners (“Settle Down, Zelda”); d) repeat. But the world is a ghetto, and this time, the Mendoza Line is ghetto fabulous. “Pipe Stories” is either a dystopian fantasy or the band’s take on the United States circa now. On the propulsive “Golden Boy (Torture In The Shed),” McArdle channels the spiritualized fear of women under Muslim regimes. As with the more selfish Mendoza material, these songs are too beaten and maybe too smart to protest, but too pissed to do nothing.
The Line may be as potentially polarizing as ever, but boy, can it play a righteous drinking song. In the mode of “A Damned Good Disguise” (from the should-be dive-bar jukebox staple Lost in Revelry), “Catch a Collapsing Star” bleeds snide verses into a soaring chorus over a catchy shuffle, and serves it up sad as the party before the breakdown. When the band hoots and hollers over the instrumental break, it only augments the song’s melancholy. A cross-town gin tear was never so painful to contemplate, nor so hard to refuse.
Emerson Dameron The Mendoza Line is playing at the Caledonia Lounge on Saturday, Nov. 19.Record Reviews
Madonna
originally published November 16, 2005
If there’s a reason to be excited about a new Madonna album in 2005, it’s producer Stuart Price, who under the name Jacques Lu Cont put out a series of increasingly mind-blowing tracks over the last two years, each one a mini-masterpiece of filters and bass drop-ins, sparkly synths and astonishing reinventions. All of which sounds like it would suit Madonna just fine, but the result (mixed by Price into a continuous mix), while not really bad, is certainly disappointing.
Some of this is Madonna’s fault; as they were on American Life, her vocal melodies are flat and repetitious, and her lyrics are… well, here’s one: “I love New York/ other places make me feel like a dork.” But if you already like Madonna, presumably you’ve learned to put up with it.
The production, though, is unexpectedly problematic. Most of it was made in Price’s apartment, and while this is symbolically charming, it seems to have produced a distinct lack of the big, hyperpop gestures that are absolutely necessary for a Madonna album to work. There are certainly plenty of strings, but their lackluster arrangement weighs down the last half of the album with a feel closer to bland late-’90s house than actual disco. There’s also an unavoidable sense that these are remixes of songs that never existed, and the streamlined chord structures make for static song structures rather than dramatic recontextualizations. In short, it’s samey, and for an ostensibly ballad-less album shooting for pop giddiness, that’s the kiss of death.
Michael BarthelRecord Reviews
Bo Bedingfield & The Wydelles
originally published November 16, 2005
Previously seen behind the drums in local trio Timber, Bo Bedingfield leads this new grouping of locals in the singer-guitarist seat here. On his and the Wydelles’ (bassist Brandon Reynolds, pedal steel player John Neff and drummer John Radford) David Barbe-produced debut, the band plays a good-natured brand of alt-country despite the album’s dour title.
Almost none of The World Is Ending… rises above the molasses-slow tempo that characterized similar bands like Whiskeytown, but the Wydelle’s steady, amiable backing, highlighted by Neff’s chiming pedal-steel runs, provides a spacious, desert-rock platform for Bedingfield’s songs. “Harmonica Like Dylan” nicks the opening riff from The Screaming Tree’s “Dollar Bill,” “Tight Like Acrobats” is a dusty, almost cowpoke-y number and “You Should Never Go To Paris” features Bedingfield picking a near solo traveler’s log backed just by soft piano.
Bedingfield has said that several of these songs “feature ghosts,” and restless spirits, both literal and abstract, do pop up every now and again. “Old Demons (Coast to Coast A.M.)” finds him declaring, “Been counting all the beads on my rosary/ Come Sunday morning we’ll all be okay,” while one of the subjects of “Michigan” finds herself finding faith before death and receiving the album’s most somber narration. For a guy who wasn’t previously known for singing or as a frontman, The World Is Ending… is a promising first go for Bedingfield and his stick-’em-up pick-up band.
Michael Andrews Bo Bedingfield is playing at the Flicker Theatre & Bar on Wednesday, Nov. 16.Record Reviews
Meredith Bragg & The Terminals
originally published November 16, 2005
Virginia’s Meredith Bragg, formerly of indie rock band Speedwell, plays some serious, near-orchestral chamber pop with his new band the Terminals, a trio that also features two of his previous bandmates.
Bragg’s lilting voice and melodic delivery are the album’s centerpieces. From the Beatles-y “Bitter at Best” to the jittering sway of “Waltz 1,” it’s one high-calorie hook after another as Bragg, in an often-distant voice, strikes a mostly melancholy stance. Many of the songs allow the Terminals to show their stuff as well, particularly keyboardist Brian Minter and newly added cello player Elizabeth Olson, whose instrument is featured on almost every song.
Bragg and his band’s greatest strength is their knack for the well-realized, mostly acoustic arrangements heard repeatedly throughout Vol. 1 and the incorporation of various little touches like John Roth’s Motown-style hand drums on “ My Only Enemy” and Olson’s weepy cello solo on “I Won’t Let You Down.” Lyrically, Bragg doesn’t say that much that’ll shake ya, but, despite its cloudy outlook, Vol. 1 is still a fairly enjoyable collection, if also a pleasant chunk of ear candy.
Michael Andrews Meredith Bragg is playing at the Caledonia Lounge on Friday, Nov. 18.Record Reviews
On Ensemble
originally published November 16, 2005
With Dust and Sand, the On Ensemble (pronounced “ohn”) presents a contemporary take on Japanese taiko music. Taiko, which translates as “big” or “great drum,” refers to both the type of drums used and the style itself. Along with heavy percussion, the On Ensemble incorporates bells, flute, koto (Japanese zither) and Tuvan throat singing. What makes the music contemporary, though, is the group’s integration of 21st century technology and outside musical influences into traditional taiko arrangements.
Taiko music must be difficult to translate through the recording process, since the spectacle of the physical performance is as vital to the experience of the music as the music itself. The On Ensemble compensates for this loss through the use of sound manipulation and production techniques such as reverb, echo and panning, simulating both movement and a sense of space. This is especially noticeable on the opening track “Little Man,” which sounds like a caravan of traveling musicians. The On Ensemble also borrows from contemporary electronic music, as on “Same Planet,” in which real drum rhythms are inlayed with glitches and drum machines. Besides the distracting turntables scratching in “Zeecha,” the rest of Dust and Sand’s electronic manipulations are pulled off tastefully.
The On Ensemble also shows the influence of Western avant-garde music; the repetitive layering of mallet patterns in “Someday Six,” for instance, is reminiscent of Steve Reich’s works for mallet instruments. In “Taiko Overtone Quartet,” drums, grunts and shouts play in dialogue with deep, sustained throat singing before breaking into a frantic jazz cymbal rhythm overlaid with dense taiko drums. “Fingertips,” the weakest song on the album, falls flat in its attempt at more pop-style vocal melodies and its use of English lyrics, and is bad New Age music. The On Ensemble’s update of traditional taiko doesn’t compromise the music’s compelling sound at all; it’s an enchanting listen.
Nick HastyRecord Reviews
Against Me!
originally published November 16, 2005
The ballots are counted, and Florida still owes the world a great protest record. What we’ve got here is solid pop-punk for witty meat-eaters. Not a great record, but one bookended by two dark, thrilling anthems. The leadoff stomper “Miami” works as both a searing jeremiad and a brass-infused dead pirate’s pep rally; the titular closer cries chillingly for mental strength in the face of a terminal disease. Either is worth hearing, even for those not into this stuff.
Amongst the 12 cuts that separate those two, Against Me! founders on its deadly sincerity. Shameless topicality never lost anyone scene points with the punks, but AM! was never afraid to smirk and satirize. This redeemed instantly-dated singalongs such as “Baby I’m an Anarchist,” a goofy, swaggering tribute to the '99 WTO protests in Seattle. Searching for a Former Clarity, though, never has anything like that much fun. “Justin,” a stark anti-war cut, can’t finish a proper eulogy without namechecking Yahoo.com. “Mediocrity Gets You Pears (The Shaker)” and “Unprotected Sex With Multiple Partners” both shit-talk the music industry; while they’re among the disc’s catchiest tunes, they also prove what no-one’s needed to prove since Pink Floyd’s “Welcome To The Machine” - all the world’s piss’n’vinegar can’t cover up the scent of a rocker’s self-pity.
Fortunately, like most of what spills off the Fat Wreck conveyor belt, Searching for a Former Clarity is thick, greasy fun, full of thorny hooks, chugging rhythm sections and bellowed vocals. Front to back, it’s a righteous diversion, disappointing only for what it could’ve been.
Emerson Dameron Against Me! is playing at the 40 Watt Club on Friday, Nov. 18.Record Reviews
Constantines
originally published November 16, 2005
Those Constantines are a modest bunch. With fellow Canadians like the Arcade Fire, the New Pornographers and Wolf Parade receiving critical acclaim from all circles, and a healthy buzz following 2003’s stellar Shine a Light (arguably the best record released that year), the Cons’ vibrant mix of post-punk rhythms and everyman songwriting seemed poised to break. So, of course, they answer with the most understated record of their career.
Tournament of Hearts is a controlled, mature effort that finds the band throwing some curveballs, like the anthemic alt-country of “Soon Enough” and the grinding slowcore of “You Are a Conductor.” The songs are uniformly excellent, though on the whole, this one lacks the energy of their last two albums, replacing bombast with subtlety. Newcomers likely won’t get hooked, though; one-chord opener “Draw Us Lines” and the tricky, minimal rhythm of second track “Hotline Operator” won’t reel in any casual listeners the first time around, and they may not stick around to hear fist-pumper “Love in Fear.” I only find fault here because I want everyone to love this band, but this record’s a tough sell. On Tournament of Hearts, The Constantines sound like they’ve got nothing to prove, and that’s a real shame.
Sam GunnRecord Reviews
The Long Winters
originally published November 16, 2005
On the first Long Winters album, 2001’s The Worst You Can Do Is Harm, John Roderick sounded like his life depended on making that record. Something about Roderick’s take on literate indie rock sounded haunted and lonely. The songs were melodic, often catchy, but they sounded mysterious and guarded at the same time, a shade too sophisticated to be college-radio staples. Two years later, it was a relief to hear him having fun on When You Pretend To Fall (featuring guest spots by Peter Buck and Ken Stringfellow, two men who have obviously influenced Roderick musically), but one couldn’t help feeling that Roderick had gone a little soft, that the record’s most effervescent moments bordered on slight.
The Ultimatum EP, culled from sessions for an album to be released in early 2006, splits the difference between those two records, pairing the melancholy production of Harm with the more immediate songwriting of Fall. Roderick has never sounded more in love with the studio; washed-out pianos, new-age synths, sloppily over-dubbed drum fills and swelling strings color the solid set of songs, aided by producer Tucker Martine (who has recently worked with Laura Veirs, Jim White and the Decemberists).
The EP closes with solo live versions of “Bride and Bridle” (from Fall) and the title track, which are altogether pleasant, but also superfluous. The four studio tracks find Roderick playing to all his strengths for the first time, just in time for his next record.
Sam GunnRecord Reviews
Cycle of Addiction
originally published November 16, 2005
The band’s name and the album title would lead you to believe this is some sort of post-AA mope rock, emo meets straightedge perhaps, but this local four-piece actually produces a sweet, slightly electrified brand of folk that relies heavily on harmonized female vocals. Carol Stapleton, who on the album provides most of the vocal counterpoint to frontwoman and lead songwriter Kirsten Hazler, has since moved on, but the band’s website promises that high-school student Nora Cooper has done a more than competent job taking over that role.
The electric guitar and the surprisingly heavy bass can be a little distracting (or is that detracting?) at times because of the modern tone they contribute. I’d be curious to see how the songs work with just acoustic instruments, but the overall feel reminds me of growing up listening to Elise Witt and the Small Family Orchestra. That is, both bands sound like they’re made up of a bunch of sweet, quirky people who don’t mind throwing down and making music wherever (whether at someone’s house, an arts festival or in a bar) and with whatever’s at hand.
The above-mentioned harmonies are definitely a highlight, especially on “Don’t Lay Down,” where they’re close enough to twine like a caduceus, and “Bookstore Crush,” a song both peppy and endearing.
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