Hella

There’s No 666 in Outer Space

Ipecac

originally published January 31, 2007

Instantly obnoxious and obtuse, There’s No 666 in Outer Space is a difficult album to willingly endure. It should be noted that Hella released this disaster on the Mike Patton (Faith No More, Mr. Bungle) label dedicated to exotic noise: Ipecac Recordings. It should be noted that this reviewer without a doubt feels that Patton’s greatest achievement was 1989’s The Real Thing, inarguably his most mainstream and accessible musical offering, ever. If you disagree, you may like Hella.

The members of this Sacramento-based purveyor of the avant-garde get acclimated to their instruments during opener “World Series,” a glorified sound check that should have probably gone unrecorded. During “Let Your Heavies Out,” they proceed to completely deconstruct melody and offer more challenges than ears should be expected to endure in the arts and entertainment medium we’ve come to know as music. By the time you reach the psychedelic freak-out “Friends Don’t Let Friends Win,” which pays homage to the very worst of Primus and Butthole Surfers, your dog will leave the room - your neighbors will compose written complaints and your church will consider excommunicating your unholy ass.

A few things in praise of the record: the train whistle intro to “Hand That Rocks the Cradle;” the light saber soloing on “2012 and Countless;” and the howling vocal outro on “Anarchists Just Want to have Fun.” All are pretty cool and There’s No 666 in Outer Space is a triumph in the sense that if a label and publicist are willing to get behind this, there is hope for every one of y’all racket monsters - no matter how much of an acquired taste your music is.

David Eduardo

Sneakers

Nonsequitur of Silence

Collector's Choice

originally published January 31, 2007

The space provided here is, regrettably, much too limited to provide substantial biographical details of Sneakers. The essential information is that Sneakers existed, in two different forms, between 1974 and 1979 in Chapel Hill, NC. Its most famous alumni are Chris Stamey and Will Rigby, who would form The dB’s, and Mitch Easter of the band Let’s Active, who would be instrumental in the career of R.E.M..

The band released two records (Sneakers EP in 1976 and In The Red in 1979) and there is a marked difference between the two. The first, recorded with a full band and Mitch Easter playing a non-member role in the background, is less slick and produced than the second, which was recorded with only Easter and Stamey. In The Red was not so much an afterthought, although the band had largely disintegrated by the time of its release, but was a souvenir of sorts for fans that wanted recordings of live favorites.

The re-release of these two records - remastered, occasionally remixed and packaged together (along with three bonus tracks) as Nonsequitur of Silence - starts the new year off just right. I used to hunt for these discs the way people used to hunt for Big Star records, and I had never been able to find the individual releases at an affordable price. It’s not enough, however, to revere the past, at least in terms of rock and roll, for its historic value. Certainly that has its place, but what’s the use of dusting off old recordings if they have become mere museum pieces. It’s a good thing, then, that Sneakers’ records have aged very well. The Sneakers EP, now 30 years old, is the true treasure here. Teeming with overtly original guitar songs, there’s a tunefulness, earnestness and overall integrity to the record. Released on Stamey’s Carnivorous Records, the EP has all the earmarks of classic Amer-indie rock. It is, however, key to understand that Sneakers was part of the class that invented this sound.

Big Star was more majestic, Television much more artsy and both those groups, relative contemporaries of Sneakers, can be heard in Sneakers' work. It’s a phenomenon that can’t even be called friendly competition. It’s more like bands speaking different dialects of the same shared language.

Sneakers' guitar pop preceded massive sellers like The Knack, The Rave-Ups and The Plimsouls by a few years, but it is not clear at all that those groups would have had any domestic foundation for their sounds if it wasn’t for bands like Sneakers.

“Condition Red,” from the EP, is the song that has been played the most on my stereo. Stamey sings, “Put on a new face / We’ll go for a walk on the main street boulevard / No matter where we go / No matter what we do / We’ll be American.” Although he sings these lines with a certain reservation in his voice, he is, ultimately although inadvertently, describing Sneakers. Precious few reissues are truly essential. Nonsequitur of Silence is the exception.

Gordon Lamb

Ghost

In Stormy Nights

Drag City

originally published January 31, 2007

Urban Outfitters doesn't sell truckloads of flowered peasant skirts in Japan. In that country, the trappings of 1960s Anglo-American counterculture - flowing long hair, hallucinogenic drugs, psychedelic guitar rock - haven't yet been integrated into corporate marketing ploys and mainstream aesthetics. The hippie isn't a hoary stereotype in Japan - he's a figure to feel genuinely threatened by, a person to shun.

So, the members of free-form folk-rock outfit Ghost, a fixture in the islands' underground since the mid-1980s, aren't the arch culture-vulture postmodernists or misty-eyed revivalists that many groups who play similar music in our country are. They operate in a society in which a band which sounds like a cross between Pentangle, Syd Barrett and Quicksilver Messenger Service still carries with it the shock of the new and need not resort to record collector-ly intertextual moves to make a vital statement. This context probably accounts for why Ghost sounds dynamic and charged, while like-minded American groups sound often like glorified cover bands.

Two decades of experience also helps. Much like the group's well-received previous album Hypnotic Underworld, In Stormy Nights is the product of musicians who know one another inside out and still love to take chances. Just listen to "Gareki No Toshi" - with hypnotic death-march percussion, incendiary guitar feedback and primal shouts, it might be the most raucous tune in Ghost's catalogue, but it still feels labored over and intricately assembled. Perhaps the real shock here has nothing to do with cultural subversion - maybe it comes from hearing blustery noodlings hang together like actual songs.

Phillip Buchan

Time Toy

Fly Swatter / Ice Water

Iron Horse

originally published January 31, 2007

Athens-based Time Toy gained some degree of recognition back in the mid-'80s, when the band was one of many featured in the documentary Athens, Ga: Inside/Out. Time Toy's presence in that film's line-up should've helped dispel the notion that all Athens bands of the day were jangly, Byrds-besotted new traditionalists who made over punk into the more respectable college rock. Sure, Time Toy was prone to occasional jangle, but sonically the band was closer to Pylon than post-Reckoning R.E.M.; it's almost like Time Toy inherited the Gang of Four-ish post-punk influence R.E.M. had cast off by the mid-'80s.

Time Toy recorded an album's worth of songs at its peak, which are only now being officially released, 20 years later. Yes, Fly Swatter / Ice Water, released in the later half of 2006, was recorded in the 1980s, and, because of the production, it certainly shows. From the chorus-drenched bass to the reverb on the drums, this record is clearly a product of its time. The songs themselves are often in debt to some of the same post-punk bands that were back in vogue a few years ago; the martial bark of "Fangs," for instance, resembles Gang of Four, before giving way to a tuneful chorus. Elsewhere, "Baby With A Tail" is as antic and inscrutable as early Pere Ubu. Pere Ubu, in fact, is perhaps the band Time Toy most brings to mind; both are relatively inaccessible, and both have singers that tend to rant on nonsensically. Pere Ubu, though, wrote some thoroughly amazing songs that were as enjoyable as they were challenging. Time Toy didn't, really.

Fly Swatter / Ice Water isn't a bad record; it's just dull. These songs are idiosyncratic without being particularly memorable. The members of Time Toy clearly didn't take themselves too seriously, which is great, but they also didn't make music that's all that notable. Put them on stage in a cramped sweaty room, and dump a pitcher or two of beer in me, and I'd probably love the hell out of 'em, but on an album, Time Toy is unimpressive. Fly Swatter / Ice Water is required listening for local music historians and the nostalgic, but I'm not sure who else would like it.

Garrett Martin

Menomena

Friend and Foe

Barsuk

originally published January 31, 2007

This Portland, Oregon rock trio first made waves in 2003, when its debut, titled I Am the Fun Blame Monster, garnered a modest Internet buzz. With its next release, however, Menomena shelved the fractured pop hooks and wide-eyed experimentation that made its first outing so beguiling, offering instead three abstract instrumentals composed to score a modern dance recital. This foray into the unknown caused the band to drop off the radars of the Pitchfork.com readers to whom it had previously endeared itself. Another setback: Menomena isn't particularly good at making abstract instrumental music.

In Friend and Foe, the guys stick to what works, belting out gargantuan melodies over industrial-sized drum loops that even The Flaming Lips might find ostentatious. So they'll probably win those old fans back and then some. But the album isn't a simple concession to pop audiences - if anything, it's the band's weirdest work to date, if only because its weirdness operates so covertly. Like TV on the Radio or Spoon circa Kill the Moonlight, Menomena assembles instantly hummable tunes with unlikely resources - a spare handclap here, a snippet of funereal organ there, an intrusive sax squawk in between, and so on. A catalogue of the twists and turns that "Air Aid" and "Wet and Rustling" take would be as tedious as a Biblical genealogy; I'll just tell you that snappy pan-outs and a quasi-psychedelic approach to layering beget some impressive music.

Phillip Buchan

Dynamite Club

Are Your Hairs Real?

Funhole

originally published January 31, 2007

Dynamite Club has an arsenal of weapons and the band's not afraid to use them against you. Whether it's assaulting you with brutal math-rock-laced punk or ambushing you with an experimental jazz hook in the middle of a serious grindcore jam, these kids aren't playing around. Or, actually, they are. With a live performance that includes actual kung fu, underwear and wrestling, Dynamite Club should be considered a musical avant-garde performance group rather than just a band.

Are Your Hairs Real? is the third full-length album from Dynamite Club. From start to finish, this album bursts with chaos, witticism, fun and a level of weirdness that goes miles beyond its predecessor It's Deeper Than Most People Actually Think. It's a little hard to distinguish the vocals, not due to any production failure, but because they jump so sporadically from English to Japanese, ranging from a hoarse whisper to an exasperated screech. However, one thing remains clear: all three members of the Dynamite Club are profoundly talented, especially considering the spectrum of styles and sounds they can generate from a guitar, bass and drums.

The raw energy prevalent on Are Your Hairs Real? never falters, not even on "slower" songs. And though the dissonant riffs and complex rhythmic structures may throw you off, every song is keenly aware of where it's going, giving the impression of smooth transitions, where in actuality, it may just be as random as how you choose your undies today.

Charley Lee