The Fiery Furnaces
Widow City
Touch and Go
originally published October 10, 2007
When writing a review, you can want to wedge an album into a band's storyline. For instance, Widow City could be framed as a "return to form" since it's a lot less obtuse than the Fiery Furnaces' last two albums, and since they use their touring drummer to capture the formerly absent-on-album energy of their electrifying live show. But that's apologizing for a band that doesn't need it. Sure, there were some annoying things about their last effort, Bitter Tea, but those were all deliberate choices, and if they made the listener work a little, what's so wrong with that?
Widow City is another fantastic Fiery Furnaces album, albeit one that brings in welcome elements from other efforts - the synth tones from brother Matthew's solo effort (called a Chamberlain, sounds like a Mellotron), for instance, and the multi-part song suites from Blueberry Boat, here broken up into distinct tracks. This allows the parts to shine through, as does "Ex-Guru," a fantastic pop-rock track with the chorus of "She means nothing to me now / I tell myself that every day."
Other standouts, like "The Old Hag is Sleeping," combine the narrative drive of Rehearsing My Choir with the woman-in-peril themes of "Single Again," while others like "The Philadelphia Grand Jury" match mammoth instrumental passages with catchy vocal refrains. The Fiery Furnaces seem unusual in today's climate of bands pulled this way and that by commercial pressures, but their ability to do exactly what they want and still sound awesome is a pretty appealing story after all.
The Brunettes
Structure & Cosmetic
Sub Pop
originally published October 10, 2007
If there's a problem with the Brunettes - and there is - it's in Jonathan Bree's voice. It's not a huge problem, since he doesn't sing all the time, splitting duties with Heather Mansfield who is the main voice on the first three songs on Structure & Cosmetics, but it is a problem. He sings as if he's making fun of singers, with an adolescent, nasal voice that summons as much bombast as it can muster, sounding like someone cracking up their friends while doing karaoke. This wouldn't be a problem if the Brunettes were a more straightforward band, but at one point on "Credit Card Mail Order," Bree's vocal line is the chorus from "Crimson and Clover," for no apparent reason. They're not actually funny, so this all just comes off as annoying. Are they making fun of us for listening to them?
When Bree's not singing, the Brunettes are fine, coming off as sort of a sonically crisp, very twee Elephant 6 band, doing '60s pop with a lot of instruments and a good, full sound; opening pop symphony "B-A-B-Y" is almost Polyphonically Spree, and Mansfield's cloying "Stereo (Mono Mono)" is still likeable. But there's a fine line in twee between success and failure, and it divides acting like you're four from acting like you're 10. Four-year-olds are funny because they don't know they're funny; 10-year-olds are annoying because they think they are funny, and they're not. Put it this way: the Brunettes are too old for twee.
The Brunettes are playing at Tasty World on Wednesday, Oct. 10.
Turbonegro
Retox
Cooking Vinyl
originally published October 10, 2007
Once upon a time, Norway's Turbonegro was a great band. Throughout the '90s, the denim-wearing, alias-bearing, irony-soaked Scandinavians released a string of great vinyl, often European-only releases. These platters were a consistently humorous, fun and kickass blend of glam-punk and classic metal, culminating in two fantastic albums in the middle of the decade, Ass Cobra and Apocalypse Dudes, outright classics in the genre. Like all good episodes of "Behind the Music," when relative success came calling, so did the drug addiction and subsequent mental breakdowns, causing the band to break up in 1998.
Of course, later came the inevitable reunion tours, followed by new albums, of which we now have the third: Retox. And the joke's just not funny anymore. The songs are flat, the lyrics not nearly as clever or funny, and the solos, having always been the driving force, stale. Turbonegro is a six-piece with three guitarists and one bassist, leaving the guitars crazy-compressed and trebly as all get out. It's like C.C. DeVille and Johnny Thunders' drug-addicted-at-birth love-child somewhere in northern Europe struggling to keep up the glitz and glamour.
Early albums were notorious for irreverent topics including pizza, gay sex and not much more. The homoerotic themes are still omnipresent, but not as witty or lyrical. Longtime singer Hank von Helvete's voice has roughened and now sounds like he's straining to hit melodies.
The denim demons, however, still bring it live and put on a savage stage show, full of hits, hubris and hilarity. Anyone who digs destruction and is ready for some darkness might want to (re)familiarize themselves with the back catalog, sell his or her body to the night, and ride with Turbonegro.
Tulsa
I Was Submerged EP
Park the Van
originally published October 10, 2007
Something should clue you in quickly as to whether or not you'll like this band: how do you think of Tulsa, OK? Does it seem like a place you might want to visit someday, or does it sound more like Dorothy's Kansas? Tulsa the band is quite a bit like my own impression of Tulsa, OK, which may be completely false - slow, painted in gentle shades of gray, focused on a quiet storm of spiraling guitars and far-off vocals, very reminiscent of mid-'90s Midwestern indie-rock.
That is, it sounds like there is not much to do, which leads to an inward, contemplative bent that's a bit mopey and an attempt to fill up all that emptiness with a bunch of guitars. The title of this EP, Tulsa's first official, physical release, comes from an Ernest Hemingway quote about Marlene Dietrich, but the past tense seems wrong; the dreaminess of even the "pop" songs here ("Shaker" is a mere 3:30 and relatively catchy, and "Mass," which follows it, has some nice riffs that stick in one's head) suggests a state of continuing submersion. The band seems to be heading toward longer-format, even more diffuse stuff, so if you like your tunes rolled out thin and long, you might want to check out the record and this week's live show.
Tulsa is playing at the Caledonia Lounge on Wednesday, Oct. 10.
The Yum Yum Tree
Paint by Numbers
Two Sheds Music
originally published October 10, 2007
There's something incongruous about the sunshine pop of The Yum Yum Tree. Although the band has been located in Atlanta for the past seven years, this record could've just as easily come from Southern California. It's full of that West Coast sing-a-long bliss and has none of the emotional heaviness that the South's best pop bands have always exhibited.
Paint by Numbers runs about half and half between pedestrian, easily-forgotten songs and really killer, sharply focused tunes. Unfortunately the album opens with one of the former. "Inevitable" certainly appears to be a perfect opening song with it's big guitar riffs and oomph-y vocals, but it's a song we've all heard before. There's also a half-step down in the main guitar progression that just screams 1990s rock. After a couple of songs, the band shifts wildly to the completely stellar "Everybody Knows" which, even though it utilizes the quiet vocal/ loud chorus format, keeps the tension just below the surface before finally exploding toward the end of the song. Other stand-out tracks include "Outside In," "Bulldog Smile" and the massive "Throw Me Out The Window."
As an unabashed guitar-pop fan, I'm more than a little torn when is comes to The Yum Yum Tree, and I'm also skeptical of albums that sound so decidedly in-the-middle. It's one thing for a band to simply operate mid-stream by accident; it's another thing to intentionally try to appeal to an audience by never really laying it all on the line. Although I can't be sure of The Yum Yum Tree's intent, the fact that this is the band's fourth release and it sounds this way can only suggest the former. Trimmed down, Paint by Numbers could've been a killer EP, but, as an album, it feels forced.
The Yum Yum Tree is playing at the Star Bar in Atlanta on Thursday, Nov. 8.
Nicole Willis & the Soul Investigators
Keep Reachin' Up
Light in the Attic
originally published October 10, 2007
Emulation, flattering imitation and plagiaristic pillaging create the three-way fork in the road that a listener must approach when encountering an ensemble such as Finland's Nicole Willis & the Soul Investigators. Luckily, this throwback straddles sparkling emulation and flattering imitation over the outright stealing of such a crisp sound. Keep Reachin' Up is part of a revivalist movement championing a style separate from underhanded replication then modernization of past music, which mostly becomes contrived and soulless when pitted on a platform that attempts to pass it off as genuine innovation.
The Soul Investigators do not attempt to transcend time with brewing '60s/ '70s funky soul originals and instead bring it back as a sun-kissed dedication to an era that is slave to the groove, while creeping into classic oldies territory. They do not inconspicuously flirt with the feel-good bounce of bass and brass of the past, they instead indulge and jive with its toe-tapping exuberance (check the piano stabs on "Invisible Man" or the crawling guitar on "No One's Gonna Love You"). It's the new vintage. The dusted drum break carried on its back for new generations to hear.
Nicole Willis complements the Soul Investigators with her sultry silver'n'satin vocals, which display a tone that is summery and honey-brown. To encapsulate the sheer lightness and nostalgic buoyancy of the album, Willis on "My Four Leaf Clover" opens with the lines, "My four leaf clover, lucky that he walked over / He was was so sweet / Sweet enough to eat" and then declares him her "baby" destined to get "treated right." It's no surprise astute English DJ and music fanatic Gilles Peterson regards "If This Ain't Love (Don't Know What Is)" as one of his favorite tracks of the year; the ensemble finds a nook in the past, brings it out again, and, in turn, could line your listening heart with gold.
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