Record Reviews
Belle & Sebastian
originally published February 8, 2006
Belle & Sebastian was in a rut. The band’s sound always teetered between sublime and soporific, but up until now now even its own members seemed to be having a hard time staying awake. The first sign of change was a single, “Your Cover’s Blown,” not inaccurately called the “indie ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’” for its quasi-epic scope and shifts between disco and car-chase music, and an absolutely revelation in terms of the variations that could be worked on the basic B&S sound.
The Life Pursuit starts off like it’s back in that rut, all pianos and heavy reverb and acoustic guitar. But then track three, “White Collar Boy,” starts off with a total T-Rex stomp via heavy synth and crunchy drums (B&S, heavy? Imagine!), and it’s like a whole new (better) band took over. The rest of the album mixes traditional B&S songs with ones done in various early ’70s styles, from glam to funk to one, “Song for Sunshine,” that either sounds like a Parliament slow jam or Ween parodying a Parliament slow jam.
The gambit works, and Belle & Sebastian sounds more vital than it has in years. It helps that the group is more stretching its parameters than changing them - there are no major instrumentation changes, and you can see precedents in past work. It also helps that the glam and funk songs are actually really good. They’re taking these familiar styles and putting them through the Stuart Murdoch filter, and they emerge as cute little mutants. The Life Pursuit could have been a major stumble, but instead it’s the first great album of 2006.
Michael BarthelRecord Reviews
Brantley Gilbert
originally published February 8, 2006
Less hard-rocking Christian (which is what one would guess from the album cover, in which Mr. Gilbert stares soulfully out a window while displaying his guns in a shirt with the arms cut off that reads, “I’m not perfect, just forgiven”) and more Chesney-ish, this debut from the young Jefferson, GA, singer-songwriter does a decent job with the slightly sensitive country thing. This isn’t to say it’s a wussy album; just that it’s not a Toby Keith honky-tonker for the most part. Gilbert has a pleasant enough voice, though his tenor isn’t as strong as many a more established CMT artist.
Conventions of the genre are mostly adhered to, with songs about Southern girls (“G.R.I.T.S.”), lamenting the loss of small-town life (“What’s Left of a Small Town”) and, you know, authenticity.
This is not to say it’s necessarily a bad thing to include such elements - music has its checklists just like classical literary forms - but simply an acknowledgment of their existence. “Friday Night” is one of the stronger and faster-paced tracks and can’t help but be colored by one’s knowledge of Gilbert’s own high school football experience, while “Live It Up” could potentially get a foot tapping. On the whole, the tone doesn’t reach as hard for traditionalism as the lyrics do, with less twang than you’d think and a bit more rock, the production on high-pitched guitar notes is occasionally uncomfortable on the ears and there’s nothing to sweep one off one’s feet.
Hillary BrownRecord Reviews
Bellyache
originally published February 8, 2006
Hot and dusty, Depression-era, soft-shoe-shuffling-rainy-day-moody-blues from the jazz side of the tracks, just four stops short of hobo-folk central and one connection ‘til swing city. That’s Porkchops and Milkshakes, the debut four-track EP from local brothers Austin and Caleb Darnell.
The disc opens with the pained Southern lament “What She Ain’t,” setting the tone as it rolls out real slow on tracks of ambling hollow-bodied guitar and solemn upright bass. On this first track, Austin transposes languid, beaten-down-and-broken lyrical couplets like “You know it hurts me like a dog bite / Yes it aches just like a dog bite” and “She cuts me just like a war wound / You know it burns like a war wound,” finding solace alongside a bridge of haunting singing saw and a sailing whistle, while water falls crisply amongst a background of faint analog hiss. “Hard Times in Georgia” is a slowly rusting junkyard lament with jaunty basslines, scraping percussion and a distinct Muddy Waters-meets-Woody Guthrie character.
Once again “Days Bleed” relies on Caleb’s upright bass to set the tone before Austin’s gruff and acrid Tom Waits-style lyrical imagery is contrasted against a melodic chorus worthy of a Frank Black acoustic session. The song winds out with the two brothers singing in fractured rounds like a circling memory that won’t be repressed. “I Bought a Poison” closes out this charming but brief EP with a sense of barefoot, barefaced truths.
Ben GerrardRecord Reviews
An Epic At Best
originally published February 8, 2006
Local four-piece An Epic at Best fulfills all up-and-comer expectations with its debut release There Will Be Rain. What does it sound like? Why, it’s a genre I like to call piemo. Yes, I made that up, and it comes from the words piano and emo. And even though I hate ascribing the e-word to anything likable, An Epic at Best is definitely emo. But while it only occasionally wanders into melodramatic territory (“Don’t Rush Home,” and of course the live favorite “The Day Stephen Finally Set Himself on Fire for Katie” which vaguely alludes to another casualty of Athens’ incestuous dating scene), the most remarkable element of the band’s sound is the kind of confidence in the members’ musicianship as a unit that goes unfeigned - it’s quite a treat and keeps the emotions from getting too thin-skinned.
Vocalist-keyboardist Robert Gunn’s piano never tries to heroically take over, nor do Sam Collier’s stirring guitar licks, leaving plenty of room for an appropriately tender and dynamic rhythm section. Gunn definitely has one of the best voices in town, and the record does justice to his vocal aplomb. Not once does he crack or dip off key, even at his most distraught. Collier pulls off some enviable vocal harmonies, especially in the dashing, destined-for-hitdom “Weight of Words.“
Even with such pleasing voices featured prominently, some of the most sublime and satisfying moments on the record are instrumental. “Cold Weather Romance” and “Carolina” are both so likable and affecting that with the new surge of interest in bands with indie credentials ready to go big time, it’s easy to imagine any of these songs as mood music for some hip network TV show. As the first record for a young band with such a mature sound, here’s to hoping There Will Be Rain is a sign of more extraordinary things to come.
Christa TinsleyRecord Reviews
Cast King
originally published February 8, 2006
Before we spin this singular record, let’s observe five minutes of silence for every genius seething in a vacuum, every “local” musician who’s touched by the infinite, but never graced with an appreciative audience, every one-of-a-very-few-of-a-kind artist who we’ll never hear, who will await an ear into the grave and beyond. There’s too much good stuff to hear in a lifetime.
Cast King lives in Old Sand Mountain. That’s in Alabama. He is 91 years old. In the ‘50s, he recorded some forgotten sides for Sun Records, then retreated to the woods to play in peace. In 2005, producer Matt Downer stalked King’s persnickety hide for months until he agreed to cut Saw Mill Man, a disc with eerie, hypnotic powers.
Cast King has enough smooth melodies and self-deprecating wit to spread across rural Antarctica, but his power lies in his voice. Imagine William Burroughs recording a country record, assuming he was a Southeastern laborer (not an art-drunk trust-fund brat) and his vices were gulped (not injected).
The lyrics on Saw Mill Man deal more in painful memories than painful experiences. Our reflexes numb us to the former. The latter hang in there and devour us. The booze brings the pain out of the beaten man’s chest and places it beyond his control.
There’s some elegantly inspired guitar work from Downer and drums on one track. King and his acoustic rule the record, but can’t govern its outer territories. The negative space cries out like the wind on a clear night. These songs have been lonely longer than they’ve been alive.
We almost missed this.
Emerson DameronRecord Reviews
Wesley Cook
originally published February 8, 2006
Wesley Cook is a solo singer-songwriter who grew up in different parts of Europe and Asia, but most recently, he’s called Athens home. The self-released We’ve Been Here Before is Cook’s first full-length album, and a debut that shows great range in the young artist’s repertoire.
A self-taught guitarist, Cook packs no accompaniment but his six-string, which he picks, plucks and strums with enough verve and eclecticism to keep things moving swiftly in the background. In “How It’s Gotta Be,” both Cook and guitar adopt a confident swagger, led by rapid narration. “Burning Bridge” is, on the other hand, a soulful meditative ballad and “Spanish Dancer,” a singular dose of flamenco. Cook’s classical guitar background also comes into play here and there, as on the melancholic “A Letter Home.”
The album’s a little lengthy (almost 50 minutes) for just voice and guitar (and cello on one track), but We’ve Been Here Before is nonetheless an impressive first outing. It also serves well as a capsule of the differing styles that Cook’s music has adopted since he began playing guitar at a very early age, ditched the instrument for a spell, then started again from scratch. Perhaps the addition of some minimal accompaniment (piano, mandolin, percussion, etc.), though, would make the fine corners of his songs really shine.
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