Ferraby Lionheart
Catch the Brass Ring
Nettwerk
originally published October 3, 2007
The backstory of Ferraby Lionheart (yes, that's really his name) is similar to that of a number of musicians in our town: art school, then a kitchen job at a pizza joint. Spare time spent riding his bike, cooking good meals, and writing lots and lots of songs. Twist ending: Ferraby gets to release his first album through a big record company, not his roommate's CD-R label.
And I must say, he didn't land his big break because he's good-looking or trendy or marketable, but because he's very talented. He is a fantastic producer, creating lots of space and comfortable, worn-in early-'70s textures. He can piece together a song: on a typical track, he lays down a tried-and-true chord progression on piano or acoustic guitar, threads a warm upright bass line through his foundation, and fleshes the whole deal out with swooping horns and strings, twangy mandolin, or a pinch of glockenspiel. Think Mercury Rev circa Deserter's Songs, but with better vocals and all the reverb, distortion and big-rock climaxes stripped away.
That said, Catch the Brass Ring is, on the whole, a touch too mannered. The drumming is stiff, offsetting the verve and swing of Lionheart's piano and Laura Steenberg's bass, and Lionheart often sings like a bored Brian Wilson. Like adult-alternative crooner Josh Rouse, Ferraby approaches his craft without the humor, guts or confidence of an Elton John, Ray Davies or Randy Newman. Hopefully, some time on the road will help him develop a livelier persona, because it'd be a shame for Lionheart to have to go back to baking calzones.
Ferraby Lionheart is playing at Tasty World on Wednesday, Oct. 10.
Clipd Beaks
Hoarse Lords
Lovepump Unlimited
originally published October 3, 2007
The rhythm section; or, more specifically, the big, powerful and post-apocalyptic war drumming is where the most intriguing aspects of Clipd Beaks sophomore full-length, Hoarse Lords, take shape. Sure, the group infuses a fuzzed-out and chaotic rock and roll take on psychedelia and the avant-garde, but without the long, sustained plod that keeps it all together, Clipd Beaks would be just another half-baked noise band from the Bay Area. But this is not obvious. The drums are buried in a mix of melodies that waver from muscular to artsy-fartsy in an ebb and flow of primal songwriting that blends into an uneven sonic terrain.
Noise of the lo-fi variety envelopes every note, every quasi-industrial rhythm and every awkward yowl of vocalist Nic Barbeln throughout Hoarse Lords. The heavy-handed use of such dense textures creates a sun-bleached aesthetic that, at times, invokes an era in the early '80s when bands like Chrome, Tuxedo Moon and Savage Republic dotted the West Coast art-punk scene.
These antiquated sound qualities function as a powerful ally, lending a mystique to the mood of songs like "Melter" and "Manipulator." But as the fog of the recording billows onward, it becomes an obstacle. Other songs, such as the album's title track and "Black Glass," could benefit from a dose of aural clarity. But alas, none is given and Hoarse Lords' brightest moments remain shrouded in a haze of softened sound that is simultaneously Clipd Beaks' greatest asset and its biggest problem.
Crumbling Arches
The Somnambulist
Independent Release
originally published October 3, 2007
Athens/ Atlanta band Crumbling Arches is the latest example of a local band that, in an attempt to showcase its diversity of sounds, throws everything against the wall to see what sticks. And, judging from the tracks on The Somnambulist, the band has an awfully sticky wall.
Beginning with "Two Face Savior (Ballad P1)," the band moans its way through sincere-sounding lyrics and a slowly rising tune which ultimately reaches its peak as a multi-vocal intro to the next track, "Voice Of Reason." It's this second track that totally trips me up. The tune is pretty great. The guitar melody is both pretty and unpredictable, and the choppy chorus is rhythmically solid. There's even a half step in here that sounds exactly like a chord change that local songwriter Count Kellam would use. I just can't stomach the lyrics. Sure, they're honest, but they're also so cliché-ridden as to be painful ("Darling, tell me / where would I be / if it weren't for you? / You're my voice of reason.")
"Dj Dormio" just pisses me off. The silly, rapid-fire vocals kill what could've been a decent dance track. "The Preaching of the Priamides" revisits the same girl from earlier in the album, and it's like three different songs in one from the grungy intro to the almost a cappella first verse to the needless piano jump-up.
The funeral dirge of "The Rally of Don Jacobin" is destroyed by the band cranking up and rocking out toward the end of the song. It's just too much to take after a while. It seems like there's a story line that runs throughout The Somnambulist, but it's too muddy to figure out. The album appears to move in song-cycles divided by a three-part ballad, but winds up being overbearingly dull. With some work on the lyrics, the guys in Crumbling Arches could be decent storytellers but, even so, the incoherent mix of styles on the album would still leave the listener wondering which voice to listen to.
Crumbling Arches is playing at the 40 Watt Club on Thursday, Oct. 4.
The Go! Team
Proof of Youth
Sub Pop
originally published October 3, 2007
Lord knows I'm no audiophile, but the Go! Team seems like some sort of line in the sand. The distortion on the group's first album was natural enough due to the samples being used and the bedroom-recording techniques available, but on Proof of Youth, you honestly can't tell whether you're listening to low-quality MP3s or your speakers are crapping out or they just meant to make their album sound like something's gone horribly wrong at the mastering plant. Distortion for distortion's sake, it's not a lemonade-out-of-lemons thing that creates interesting new sounds, but just an "indie!" preset punched in resignation. The distortion here is the haze of nostalgia, the sound of fourth-generation cassettes imposed on 21st-century listeners, and it's horrifying.
It doesn't help that, in contrast to the mixed bag of Thunder, Lightning, Strike!, there are now no good songs, with one instrumental called "My World" actually sounding like Madonna's awful country-house single "Don't Tell Me." It's all impressive in a Ren-Faire kinda way - wow, that really does sound like the Ski Patrol soundtrack played through a RadioShack tape player! - but there are no giant turkey legs or dunkings to be found. Most criminally, lead vocalist Ninja, the Go! Team's one significant addition since its debut, is lost here, with the charisma she so readily displays in concert buried in a haze of midrange yuck. That people who actually lived through the '90s are embracing this with open arms just shows that it's (seriously) time to move on.
Fire Engines
Hungry Beat
Acute
originally published October 3, 2007
The first squelching chirp of the guitar at the onset of Fire Engines' Hungry Beat springs like a stray bullet, whizzes through the ear canals and lodges deep within the grey matter. It is a resounding and high-end happy accident that gives birth to one of the greatest obscurities in the secret history of Scottish post-punk.
Hungry Beat compiles Fire Engines' brief but explosive catalogue of only two singles and one mini-LP caught on tape over a period that lasted only about a year-and-a-half circa 1982. Trace elements of the group's noisy pop lurch can be heard bounding throughout the careers of the Jesus and Mary Chain, the Fall, and, yes, even the dreaded Franz Ferdinand, but hey, it's only in the wake of groups like Liars, Yeah Yeah Yeahs and that dreaded Franz Ferdinand that the Pitchfork generation could be ready to accept such a historically overlooked gem, so credit where credit is due.
There is a profound personality crisis that culminates in the tussle between the happy-go-lucky pop ditty "Candyskin" and the spun-out charge of "Everything's Roses." One can hear equal parts Vaselines and the Contortions fighting it out for the dominant role as each drive struggles to take a stand in the song "New Thing in Cartons." This jittery and catchy pop dilemma instantly canonized Fire Engines, and rightfully so. For the times, this sound was angular, and angrier than anything else Scotland had spat out; in hindsight, it would have been more at home wading in the No Wave of New York.
Machinefabriek & Aaron Martin
Cello Recycling/ Cello Drowning
Type
originally published October 3, 2007
Every month delivers at least one release from Dutchman Roger Zuydervelt, AKA Machinefabriek, even if it's only one of his self-released three-inch CDs. Earlier this year, the amazing Weleer saw the light, a huge two-disc set compiling the best moments of those three-inchers. It was only a matter of time before Zuydervelt hooked up with Type Records, a still young but highly sought-after source of experimental music based in the United Kingdom. For Cello Recycling/ Cello Drowning, Machinefabriek manipulates two lengthy cello pieces composed by multi-instrumentalist Aaron Martin. The result is an EP stretching only a couple of minutes past 20, but hitting the senses like an epic full-length.
Zuydervelt's textures and powerful engine-drone are already signatures, and here they're reined in just a bit to wonderful effect. "Cello Recycling" is the warmer of the two pieces. Only occasionally is the source material clearly recognizable as cello, as the strong distorted drone is stretched like taffy into ominous yet beautiful drifting tones, white noise gathering and crackling. Not only will Stars of the Lid fans nod off to this, but there's a post-rock feeling, a grandeur recalling Sigur Rós. "Cello Drowning" is a more abstract affair, with high-register metallic pinging, popping and recordings of water. The cello is processed into pure frequency and grumbling low end, dropping almost completely out of the mix for the sake of pure glitchy ambience. When it returns in force, it deliberately recalls the beauty of the first track, serenely rising into the stratosphere before fading into the ether.
It seems that Zuydervelt can do this stuff in his sleep, and it's easy to get lost in the flood of quality material. This is on a smaller scale and scope that his usual, but it's no less commendable for it.
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