Record Reviews
Rhabdophobic
originally published March 15, 2006
Local band Rhabdophobic is one of those weird, obscure bands that are a treat to find. Much like other local favorites of mine - Green Bean Go, for instance, or Bellhouse - the band displays an amateur quality, but makes up in enthusiasm and charm what it lacks in skill. The songs on Just Passin’ Through are the type of music most at home when changing hands via homemade cassette tapes and low-budget indie-pop compilations.
Opening with “Know Your Name,” a single guitar-string is plucked rhythmically in a standard pop progression before the drums and bass come in. Guitarist Doug Aldridge’s vocals are reminiscent of Fred Schneider and Violent Femmes singer Gordon Gano. The track drops out around three-and-a-half minutes in, ending with a simple bass progression that works in a very cool way. The track “The North And South” is constructed via a simple four-chord guitar and casual vocals that reside slightly behind the beat. “Burger D’s (intro)” features an old-time, almost bluegrass, intro that lays on top of warbled vocals and space-sounds. That sounds backwards, but it’s not. The song “Burger D’s” itself is a fuzzy stomp reminiscent of very early Camper Van Beethoven. That’s part of the whole charm of this record. It’s unselfconscious in a purely honest way.
Closing track “Clap Your Hands” is a silly and sloppy number whose instructions are clear from the title. I have no idea how much experience any of the members have, but after listening to Just Passin’ Through, I really want to think that they’ve just picked up their instruments and this is the first band for any of them. There’s just a very cool, very sincere feeling present throughout this EP that generally only comes from folks that aren’t jaded by the music scene (yet). And hey, there’s a hidden track around 10 minutes after the EP’s end, so listen for it.
Gordon Lamb Rhabdophobic is playing at the Caledonia Lounge on Thursday, Mar. 16Record Reviews
Diamond Nights
originally published March 15, 2006
Diamond Nights makes music clearly derived from riff-happy ’70s hard rock (Thin Lizzy, Motörhead, etc.) - like the Darkness, but not as grandiose. Both bands play serious music with a giddy, earnest desire to rock, and thus manage not to take themselves too seriously. But whereas the Darkness seized on a strain of hard rock whose bombast made it easy to joke about while also maintaining genre fidelity, Diamond Nights’ preferred sound is one that’s always been defined by stern sparseness, and these limits tend to tamp down what could otherwise have been an enjoyable outing.
Evidence of this promise comes in two songs in particular, “The Girl’s Attractive” and “Destination Diamonds,” both of which take their satisfaction from being well-crafted songs rather than merely adrenalized pastiche - when they reach the chorus they give us something pleasing, in context, rather than simply grafted on from a historical precedent. The same elements are there as on other tracks (doubled guitar lines, high male vocals) but on these two tracks, along with maybe one or two others, they’re arranged into something that would work in any genre. The other tracks on Popsicle, unfortunately, are mainly sound without a point.
Still, “Diamond Nights” is a hell of a song, full of unexpected twists and turns - vocals that don’t seem to match the chugging guitar part of the verse but then synch up perfectly when they hit the out-of-time hook and chorus, along with sweetly saucy lyrics. Diamond Nights’ Popsicle is no precious jewel, sure, but it’s good enough for a beer blast.
Michael Barthel Diamond Nights is playing at the Georgia Theatre on Tuesday, Mar. 21.Record Reviews
Hot Buttered Rum
originally published March 15, 2006
Hot Buttered Rum is without a doubt a string band, despite the fact their name - for the sake of brevity and all its merit, no longer substantiates this. Well-Oiled Machine is an album that will appeal to bluegrass traditionalists and the genres burgeoning granola-grass camps alike. Riding the fence between these two stylistic approaches is definitely part of the appeal, as there’s something unexpected lurking beyond each curve of the mountain road.
Notable points of interest along the way include the politically charged, neo-swing song “Guns or Butter,” where the ageless question of economics is augmented by baton passing instrumental solos; from fiddle to mandolin then guitar, just before the upright bass runs the anchor leg. Eyebrows elevate on the haunting, not quite 16 Horsepower-esque dirge “Waiting For a Squall,” where a darkish banjo lead and vocal quiver, augmented by a sinister fiddle line, deliver something HBR’s jamgrass contemporaries do not.
Of course, there are bones thrown to the kids that still tie-dye their T-shirts. When the quintet stretches out and hits the high notes while harmonizing the words “high times” on “Idaho Pines” or when the band asks, “How could he leave his Sierra Nevada?” on “Sweet Honey Fountain,” we’re confident that a certain response is elicited from heady types, and the majestic mountain range is buried in the back of their bloodshot minds.
David Eduardo Hot Buttered Rum is playing at the Melting Point on Wednesday, Mar. 22.Record Reviews
Function
originally published March 15, 2006
Australian Matthew Liam Nicholson is the only constant member of Function, a rotating cast of musicians spanning 10 nations and 10 times that many disciplines. He’s a lyricist of wry wit and rare intellectual cunning, a poet who disses his subjects with a hearty, Zen-flavored circumspection. I feel I should point this out, seeing that, if there’s any record fit to draw its listener’s attention as far away from the lyrics as possible, it’s probably The Secret Miracle Fountain.
“Sprawling” ain’t the word. In its 70-plus minutes, The Secret Miracle Fountain courts brooding guitar rock (“The Red Hook Overview,” “The Wind Itself”), stately Eastern-y psych (“Hanalei”), science-fair post-prog (“City River Rock”), bouncy cartoon music (“New Music For Bowed Animals”), smug piano jazz (“Tiger Cub Samurai”), gooey planetarium ambiance (“Prayer In Tonal Forest”) and, most often, shifting combinations of the above and more (“Unshaken”). But the real reason “sprawling” ain’t the word is because Function (which recorded The Secret Miracle Fountain on five continents) blends the tracks so seamlessly that, unless you’re monitoring the digital display, you’d be hard-pressed to determine where one begins and another ends. It’s actually true here. And it makes Fountain a procrastinator’s paradise.
Dig in. Get lost. (I mean that in the most polite way.) Lord only knows when Nicholson or anyone else will summon the wherewithal to complete another album this ambitious and absorbing.
Emerson DameronRecord Reviews
Gregor Samsa
originally published March 15, 2006
Come on, of course I know the Band Blender is always the easiest way to review a record. And it’s a cop-out, sure. Two cups of this band, six tablespoons of this songwriter, stir while adding that laptop guy. But sometimes it’s pretty much inevitable, and that usually spells doom for an artist. Being entirely derivative of someone else’s music is a critical death wish. Every now and again, though, a band will swirl through the blender and still end up spinning in my CD player for quite some time. Richmond four-piece Gregor Samsa is one of the best examples I’ve come across, since that’s precisely what’s happening with the band’s debut full-length 55:12 (their second and most recent EP was called 27:36).
Here’s the Band Blender recipe: 2 cups Low; 1 æ cup Godspeed You! Black Emperor; 1 æ cup Sigur Rós; let simmer; sprinkle with Mogwai and drizzle with My Bloody Valentine. Delicate boy-girl vocals, dreamy ambiance, swirling shoegaze atmospherics… they’re all here. “Even Numbers” most strongly recalls the Sparhawks of Low with its powerfully soft vocals, building up toward a Godspeed climax. “Makeshift Shelters” cruises the tundra of Iceland, weaving icy textures and gorgeous shimmering guitars, but somehow you don’t wish for Jonsi Birgisson’s angel wailing.
You’ll get nothing truly original with 55:12, but you’d be hard pressed to care. You’ll be too busy swooning.
Michael Wehunt Gregor Samsa is playing at the Caledonia Lounge on Wednesday, Mar. 22.Record Reviews
Various Artists
originally published March 15, 2006
In which we ask the question: do Americans really want more grime, or was one volume enough? Is it an actual new genre, or just a novelty? Can’t speak to demand, but as for supply, try “diminishing returns.” Both Volume 1 and Volume 2 came out in 2005, but Vol. 2 isn’t the leftovers - most of what was on Vol. 1 was years old anyway. Vol. 2 holds the results of Vol. 1 - they are not encouraging.
All the hallmarks of grime are here: harsh, up-tempo beats derived from dance, and vocals to match. But everything fresh and exhilarating on Vol. 1 is now perfunctory, tired and desperate. The beats are samey, too enamored of orchestra hits, and often lacking the thunderous bass that earlier grime tracks reveled in. And the vocals, sadly, are not ready for the spotlight.
The weakest track here is an acoustic (!) version of Plan B’s “Sick 2 Def,” all vocals and no beats, and so exposed, he comes off like a less imaginative Necro or a penny-ante Eminem. The third verse, narrated in reverse, is good, but it ends up somewhere grime should avoid: reacting indignantly to condemnations of grime’s perceived violent streak. Martyrdom is never interesting, and seems artificially exaggerated here.
Grime is relentlessly not cool, and while that’s a big part of its appeal, being constantly in-your-face and aggressive seems like a Mountain Dew commercial, not music. It’s significant that the best track here, Sway’s “Up Your Speed,” isn’t even straight grime, but Brit-rap. There are other good tracks (JME’s “Serious,” Crazy Titch’s “World is Crazy,” and Mizz Beats “Saw It Comin”), but all would have been also-rans on Vol. 1.
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