Record Reviews
Young Hooks
originally published March 29, 2006
You don’t hear about it so much when rappers move to Athens to try to get something going musically, but it happens, and Young Hooks is an example of the kind of musician looking for a nook in the Classic City, having recently relocated here from Philadelphia. If only his album Don’t Wanna Go Back were a little better…
If things like frequent Scarface references, yet another iteration of the Nightmare on Elm Street theme (maybe not officially, but close enough) and weak little flutes that are supposed to evoke a boat party don’t turn you off immediately, go for it. I mean, yeah, Young Hooks is “real,” but sometimes fake is more entertaining. Most of the album has a superficially funereal tone, broken up with an occasional annoyingly aggressive banger like “At the Club.” Fun to dance to, but if you’re sober, you’ll want him to get out of your face (i.e., ears). Essentially, the album alternates between too-cool-for-you and I’m’a-bite-your-face-off, and it results in uncreative posturing.
When Young Hooks follows the 50 Cent model of collaborating with a female vocalist, it tends to work out a little better (“Candy Shop” aside). Day is featured on the tracks “Me and U” and “Duck,” both of which make good use of her not-perfectly-tuned voice. It might sound like a whine, but it seems to sharpen Hooks’ parts, especially on the latter song, which alone stands out from the rest of Don’t Wanna Go Back as genuinely worth your time.
Hillary BrownRecord Reviews
Psychic Hearts
originally published March 29, 2006
After a pensive five-month break from the public eye, Athens’ Psychic Hearts returns with a two-song 7” that brings Orwellian fear and paranoia to a fine point.
Psychic Hearts are not a punk band, but the 7” format is a punk icon - as are the jittery, powerful and nihilistic rhythms welling inside “Police.” Guitarist-vocalist Matthew Rain bluntly offers, “The police, the ministers and their wives will all look away in shame but I’ll take the blame…” The systems of control are baring their teeth, and as the constrictive rhythms fashioned by drummer Carr Chadwick, and bassist-keyboardist Nico Cashin tighten, anxiety becomes the singular propelling emotion.
On the flip-side, “Delicious” exchanges urgency for recognition of meaningless phrases that are sinister in their ambiguity. Sharp, angular progressions come together with spontaneity that marches with a sense of conceptual fascism. Comparisons to Wire and Gang of Four are apparent, but whereas these predecessors wielded manic grooves to break free from oppression, Psychic Hearts is hell-bent on facing the tormentors head-on. The shiny happy people of a Utopian Athens music scene share their streets with a volatile new neighbor.
Chad Radford Psychic Hearts is playing at the Caledonia Lounge on Friday, Mar. 31.Record Reviews
Tortoise & Bonnie "Prince" Billy
originally published March 29, 2006
I love Tortoise. I love Will Oldham, especially under the Bonnie “Prince” Billy moniker. I love the idea of them all collaborating on a covers record.
However.
I’ve been trying in my most biased way for weeks now to fall in love with The Brave and the Bold, and while there is much to praise and many exciting moments, I have to finally admit that I’ve failed in my endeavor. Perhaps I should’ve expected it. Tortoise’s jazzy, vibraphone-laden post-rock blended with Oldham’s crumbly twang and hoarse voice is in a way oil and water. Springsteen’s “Thunder Road” is one magnificent achievement, though. The Boss’ bitter hope is transformed into bitter bitterness and mild funk. The Minutemen’s “It’s Expected I’m Gone” just overdoes it, however. Oldham’s voice simply can’t handle being buried by distortion. Elton John’s “Daniel” features glitchy percussion beneath Oldham’s echoed vocals. It’s interesting and beautiful, but doesn’t quite click (no pun intended). Lungfish’s “Love is Love” is too fuzzed out to be truly effective. And Devo’s “That’s Pep!” is, well, silly, and not in a Devo way, either.
Maybe I’m panning this because of the greatness of the artists’ individual catalogs, but if anything, I’ve given The Brave and the Bold more effort and more chances than I would almost any other collaboration.
I still love Tortoise. I still love Will Oldham. No hard feelings.
Michael WehuntRecord Reviews
The Minus 5
originally published March 29, 2006
It seems like every time Scott McCaughey revives whatever is the current incarnation of his Minus 5, the game plan is to make a great, hooky album that continuously plays fresh from start to finish. For their next go ‘round, the fellas might have to move on to new pastures because the band’s latest effort is also its most consistent yet.
McCaughey really is one of the unheralded greats when it comes to writing songs with bright, shiny arrangements and lyrics as miserable as a bout of whooping cough. Such songs as “Rifle Called Goodbye,” “Cigarettes, Coffee and Booze” and “Cemetery Row” play out like three-minute black-and-white melodramas, while the gnarly, reverb-equipped guitars chime away. The 5’s present lineup, featuring R.E.M.’s Peter Buck and several Wilco moonlighters, is also a major asset, filling out the arrangements with plenty of subtle hooks.
Whereas McCaughey’s other band, The Young Fresh Fellows, was more about good times and three chords, The Minus 5 has proven more of a balancing act between the bright and the dark. The album’s closer, “The Original Luke,” is a twangy YFF-type rocker about a menacing character who’s “hard as the Grand Cooley Dam.” Otherwise, it’s mostly downcast on the lyrical front with McCaughey quipping, “All you really need is cigarettes, coffee and booze.” Having a near flawless garage pop record like this one around doesn’t hurt much, either
Michael Andrews The Minus 5 is playing at the Georgia Theatre on Saturday, Apr. 1.Record Reviews
Casiotone For The Painfully Alone
originally published March 29, 2006
This album does a lot to lower expectations, beginning as it does with a woman saying, “You are listening to Etiquette by Casiotone for the Painfully Alone” at a far lower volume than the rest of the album, then proceeding to an uninflected drum-machine beat hiding behind a scrim of low fidelity and distortion and a voice that sounds more like a grumble, all indicating that you shouldn’t expect anything too serious - that, for instance, while “Young Shields” might sound like electronic dance music, it’s not really.
Which then lets the lyrics to cut through, and cut they do, with incisive stories about familiar people and situations, like being dumped by your childhood sweetheart after moving with her to Philadelphia (“Took a job downtown, it’s an hour on the bus each way / typing letters for a lawyer with a bad toupee”), or asking your parents for money and having them ignore you. And this, in turn, makes the sporadically brilliant arrangements seem particularly noteworthy, like the slide-guitar break in the lovelorn techno-country song “Nashville Parthenon.”
Trouble is, the whole thing grinds to a halt with the flute-happy 47-second eighth track “Happy Mother’s Day.” Casiotone etc. can be productively compared to both the Magnetic Fields and the Mountain Goats, but these projects are well-regarded in no small part because of their prolific, high-quality nature. On this album, Owen Ashworth - Mr. Casiotone himself - can only come up with five good songs, and while those are very good, that’s really just an EP.
Michael BarthelRecord Reviews
Mono
originally published March 29, 2006
When I first heard Japanese quartet Mono’s second album, One Step More and You Die, I was impressed. I’m a sucker for post-rock, and at the time Mogwai was still tops and soft/ loud dynamics were all you needed. Then the scene entered an amazingly fertile period, with the sound branching off in dozens of directions. But what has remained besides that soft/ loud formula is the beauty along the way to wall-shaking climax.
Sex should be like “The Flames Beyond the Cold Mountains,” the first track on Mono’s fourth record You Are There. First of all, it’s 13-and-a-half minutes long (although for you that’s brief, right?). Patient, gradually building gorgeous guitar chimes repeat toward that explosive orgasm around the seven-minute mark, which, incidentally, is the average time the internet tells me a woman needs. The aggression tapers off into a gentle feedback drone, then back to the beginning. Come on, there’s gotta be at least another back-arching orgasm here. Ah, 12 minutes in, there it is… and fade to bliss. The entire Steve Albini-produced album could be a week’s worth of fantastic bed-squeaking.
The fact is this is Mono’s best effort yet. They’ve not changed much, but the violence of One Step More and the ambition of Walking Cloud and Deep Red Sky… are both reined in, and the balance is exquisite. So if you’re put off by the overall-great-but-at-times iffy Mr. Beast from Mogwai, You Are There will, um, get you off.
Michael WehuntRecord Reviews
Chihei Hatakeyama
originally published March 29, 2006
Tucked down deep inside every moment in life there is astounding beauty and tranquility. To say so is to spout clichés and wax melodramatic, but the truth remains, and concentration will draw it to the surface. I don’t meditate, but I do listen to ambient music, which, if composed and assembled with the right mind and tools, is, for me, a superior method. Japanese sound artist Chihei Hatakeyama has built a gentle tower of lulling subtle melodies and affecting textures on Minima Moralia, his first release on the ever-bolder Kranky imprint.
Seven tracks focusing on processed guitar and vibraphone, the album deftly whirs and rings and strums around any of the drone genre’s typical pitfalls. “Never a dull moment” is the rarest compliment afforded a drone-oriented record, but these pieces are so packed with movement, the d-word really doesn’t apply. Opener “Bonfire on the Field” drifts on a layer of the softest clicks and crickets. The tones are familiar to any fan of Stars of the Lid, but there’s an energy here that McBride and Weltzie tend to shun. “Starlight Reflecting on the Surface of the River” fades in on a bright drone before suddenly shifting into a stunning acoustic guitar melody underpinned by pings and ticks.
Eleven minutes of “Beside a Well” close the album in a grainier mood of guitar texture, recalling Fennesz and especially newcomers Belong. Lush ambient chords become wrapped up in filtered distortion. Each and every soundscape is breathtaking, as is the entirety of Minima Moralia.
Michael WehuntRecord Reviews
Neko Case
originally published March 29, 2006
Torch singer-meets-Americana goddess Neko Case has been out of the spotlight for the past few years, ever since her impeccable 2002 release Blacklisted. There was that well-received solo outing The Tigers Have Spoken in 2004, plus her ongoing affair with the New Pornographers. But new solo material? It’s been frustratingly scant. So Fox Confessor Brings the Flood comes to us like a desperately needed jolt, and a reminder that Case hasn’t given up songwriting.
Even a cursory listen reveals this epic album as so much more than a calling card; with each song, Case is proving (and pushing) herself, with astonishing results. She honors the subject matter of old country albums she’s obviously so fond of - lonesomeness, jealousy and the pain of loving too much and receiving too little - without needlessly reinventing them.
Mark SandersRecord Reviews
Juvenile
originally published March 29, 2006
When Juvenile was on “106th & Park” recently to promote this brand-new album, he entered the room with a loud “Katrina victim in the house, holla!” That layer of funny over a thin stratum of deep sadness, all of which is thoroughly infused with choices that raise one’s eyebrows pretty much captures the feel of Reality Check. Mostly recorded before Katrina hit, then slightly modified after, it’s a mix of carefree grind tracks, standard disses and a dark sensibility most visible in “Get Ya Hustle On” that’s the flip-side of rich white New Orleans treating the whole thing like a party. That is, it’s anger boiled down to a stony capitalistic assessment of the situation, and it’s probably one of the great songs of the year.
His vocal style isn’t as articulate as the crème de la crème, but Juvenile does seem to take his grill out when recording, meaning most of it’s comprehensible, and besides, the slower pace suits the soft bounce of a song like “Rodeo,” which pairs gentle guitar work and come-hither female vocals with a cotton-ball bass drum. The obligatory Mike Jones/Paul Wall guest track is more than passable, and even wincingly stupid lyrics on “Animal” and “Who’s Ya Daddy” (“got my dick gettin’ stiffer than a rooo-bot”) can’t undermine the way those songs curl up in your brain and make a home.
It’s not solid the entire way through as an album, but it’s denser in terms of quality material than a lot of others of comparable length, and it shows an artist in the process of maturing (but still pretty interested in making dick jokes).
Hillary BrownRecord Reviews
People In Planes
originally published March 29, 2006
I seem to recall another band with a riffy guitar rock song called “Barracuda,” only that one showed up in the movie-version Charlie’s Angels and is a tighter, tougher tune. People in Planes don’t seem to have realized that it might be weird to kick off their debut album with a song that a) has the same title as another semi-famous song, and b) is described in the press kit in terms quite reminiscent of Heart’s cocky, kicky number. So when one isn’t met with the chunky guitars expected, it’s disorienting. But just because it’s a strange choice doesn’t mean it’s a bad song, and neither do the silly lyrics that rhyme “scuba” with “barracuda” again and again. Actually, it does a nice job mixing wailed harmonies with gutsy rock sounds, sensitivity with crotch, as do most of successful parts of the album.
It’s kind of like R.E.M. coated in System of a Down, though the production goes for fake big over real big, resulting in something that might feel powerful live but on record sounds like you’ve got crap seats. A few too many instances of the same tempo and the same vocal emoting try their hardest to cancel out moments of inspiration like the “bop bop”’s that begin “Rush” and the hints of electronica that pop up occasionally. Do they? Sometimes yes, sometimes no.
Hillary BrownRecord Reviews
Prince
originally published March 29, 2006
It’s been a long time since I could whole-heartedly recommend a Prince album. And its a good feeling. Unlike his nearly desperate and wholly overrated “comeback album” Musicology, the new disc 3121 is truly a return to form. No, its not in the league of Purple Rain or Sign O’ The Times, but its strong. If I had to make a direct comparison, Id say this one has the feel of Diamonds & Pearls. To that end, 3121 is clearly meant to be a commercial return, and it succeeds on all fronts.
“Lolita” combines the beat of his first ever regional hit “Soft & Wet” and adds in an updated version of the call and response from The Time’s “C-O-O-L” (which Prince wrote). The melody and groove combine to form an easy going, breezy tune that could be one of the hits of the summer and Prince’s return to the upper echelon of the top 40. Current single “Black Sweat,” while not as obvious as “Lolita,” brings back the Prince of “Kiss.” Sure, his sexual overtones are more muted than the old days, but his falsetto is just as clear and sensual as ever. This is the Prince with an attitude, the one with a hint of danger, the one we’ve been missing for the last decade or so. And while his Jehovahs Witness status prevents him from using the language of back when, he makes up for it with subtext, deep beats and propulsive guitar work. His religion does creep up on you during the double shot of “The Word” and “Beautiful, Loved & Blessed,” but that’s just it. It creeps up on you. And thats a good thing. Hes not banging the listener over the head, trying to force beliefs down throats (“Rainbow Children,” anyone?). This is simply a man sharing his passion and love, not trying to prove how everyone else is wrong. And that makes for a much more inspiring sermon, if truth be told.
The sleeper of 3121 is a cut called “The Dance.” It’s a slow-burn, Latin-tinged ballad that unravels rather emotionally. Hearing Prince shriek out at the end, it’s hard not to get carried away to the same place that “The Beautiful Ones” took us. And with a handful of hits-in-waiting here (boy, its good to say that), Prince may be about to carry pop radio to a place where musicianship and songwriting can have a place - just like he did the first time 'round.
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