Giovonni
A.I.D.S.
Independently Released
originally published April 9, 2008
The combination of the album title (I believe it stands for “All I Do is Sacrificed”) and Giovonni’s official website address (www.pleasenobacon.com, sadly) could produce a pretty negative first impression, which is why it’s such a delight to pop in the CD and discover that he actually has talent and knows what he’s doing. Born in the Bronx River neighborhood of New York, Giovonni has been committed to music for a long time, despite an interruption due to military service in South Korea. I don’t know what specifically brought him and his cohorts to the Atlanta/ Athens area, but A.I.D.S. is considerably more polished than the usual mixtape and is a welcome addition to the local scene. Giovonni’s voice is neither the occasionally too lazy drawl of Atlanta nor the angry, spittle-flecked straight shot of New York. The words are clear, the rhythms quick and the playing around impressively sure-footed. Production is light-handed but not thin, serving as a fine support to the vocals rather than detracting from them. In some ways, parts of the record sound like early Ghostface, full of Mayfieldian soul samples and deft layers of word-on-word to the point that one almost loses track of the narrative, but it’s more streamlined than its influences, keeping the number of songs to 12 and the length to 38 minutes. Perhaps weaker tracks were, in fact, sacrificed to the good of the whole, leading to a disc that cuts off at just the right point, without having annoyed the listener with an excess of politics or repeated its themes too often.
Graham MacRae
Graham MacRae
Amanaplanacanal
originally published April 9, 2008
Like Nick Drake, Richard Thompson and the members of Led Zeppelin, Graham MacRae understands that the most important ingredient in great folk rock is neither a "sincere" voice nor "heartfelt" lyrics, but skillful guitar playing. MacRae gives the tried-and-true arrangements (acoustic six-string, keys, drums, voice) and song structures (ABAB pop music) on this record depth and substance with his deft finger-picking, which channels the work of Delta bluesmen, Appalachian bluegrass players and John Fahey. It's amazing how fresh the singer/ songwriter formula sounds when the artist knows more than five chords.
MacRae's singing is less polished than his guitar work, but it's just as engaging. His vocal melodies, like those of psychedelic outsiders Robert Wyatt and Syd Barrett, waver unpredictably, soaring and swooping when you least expect. When MacRae sings, "When you find yourself in town/ could you check if I'm around," his pivoting voice makes me uneasy. No, I most certainly won't come a callin' for you, Graham. Even if I do like your music.
Given the names I've checked and the discomfort I've described, you might be thinking that MacRae's yet another histrionic acid-folk revivalist. Well, not quite. MacRae's record collection might look a lot like Devendra Banhart's, but his heart's in an altogether different place. Conforming to the norms of no scene or market, MacRae will probably struggle to find an audience - but that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve one.
Pegasuses-XL
The Antiphon
Ernest Jenning Record Co.
originally published April 9, 2008
Renewing its status as one of the most prolific and creative bands in town, Pegasuses-XL ups its own ante with The Antiphon. Gone are the seemingly improvised keyboard jams and in their place are deliberately crafted pieces. Beginning with the multi-part “Drugs for Change,” the band plays through movements that, individually, are fine examples of its ability to seam together its penchant for operatic rock, rap-styled vocals and keyboard undercurrents. Indeed, there seems to be a theme running through the entire album, but I can’t figure it out. The in-the-red bass fuzz intro of “Gold Power” is a stand-out moment, as is the entirety of “Marathon Mansion” which revolves around a single piano riff. That track, in particular, demonstrates what the band is capable of when completely focused. That’s not to say the rest is out of focus, but rather, that the band's intention is unclear.
There are a few instrumental interludes here that generally work to good effect. The best is “Pegasuses Enjoying Some Mid-Afternoon Target Practice.” It’s just a gorgeous combination of a buzzy low note, a slight piano melody and noises ranging from what sounds like a typewriter to breaking glass. If a single were to be pulled from the album though, the most likely track is “The Big Haunt.” Although I’m not terribly big on the R&B-style female vocals punctuating the chorus, the rest of the song is as good as any late-'80s soul-dance tracks. Overall, The Antiphon is a fine next step for a band who does nothing if not push itself.
The Intelligence
Deuteronomy
In the Red
originally published April 9, 2008
You always become what you despise, and now as I sit here trying to figure out what I love so much about The Intelligence, my thoughts drift to a distant place called “back in the day.” I recall, with not a little trepidation, my days as a reluctant freshman in Albany, NY, going to shows to watch kids in Sonic Youth t-shirts cover songs from Mellow Gold, drink themselves mute, sit in their own aesthetic/literal filth, etc. I declared (to pretty much no one) that there was no singular element in modern white-person music I hated more than put-on boredom. It’s an aspect of punk that never appealed to me - I like fervor and spittle and rage and standing up, not sitting down. Until now, I guess.
Basically the recording project of some pud named Lars Finberg, The Intelligence comes off as idle, cocky and a little stupid on Deuteronomy. In a voice somewhere in between Mark E. Smith and Andy Partridge, Finberg (not a Brit!) slurps little nothings in your ear like: “Going out with you is like going out with a cop.” Thanks, you’re too kind. Great, stooped-shouldered moments like that are all over this thing, and it’s sort of amazing that it’s so appealing despite no apparent aspirations therein. The garage-y goodness on this record is so misanthropic, it almost feels voyeuristic: the opportunity to peer into the mind of someone with a masterful grasp of his own ambivalence... I mean that in a good way! Seriously!
Fuck Buttons
Street Horrrsing
ATP
originally published April 9, 2008
It's a damn shame that Fuck Buttons had to go and call themselves Fuck Buttons. The Bristol, UK duo of Andrew Hung and Benjamin John Power couldn't possibly have come up with a more juvenile moniker to scare away listeners. And what makes the name doubly offensive is that Street Horrrsing, the group's full-length debut, is one of the most compelling experimental records that the Brits have exported all year.
The six songs that make up the album blur into one very dirty and very constant drone that flutters with head-cleaning, psychedelic majesty. Overdrive, distortion and feedback are the dominant tonal palette at work here, but Hung and Power have sculpted these abrasive elements into a crisp, hypnotic masterpiece.
From the onset of opening number "Sweet Love for Planet Earth," the din and fuzz is strongly reminiscent of such '80s/ '90s noisy alternative rock torch bearers as the Jesus and Mary Chain and My Bloody Valentine. But the genius behind Fuck Buttons' approach is the manner in which the group has stripped these influences of their rock and roll components. "Ribs Out" and "Bright Tomorrow" make use of a primitive industrial beat, and anything resembling rock structure has been removed. Melody and intentional rhythms are thrown out the window leaving only the secret, underlying hum to carry the music. This exploded view of such a typically buried sound reveals an addictive and non-traditional approach to melody and harmony… It's just too bad about that name.
Windsor for the Derby
How We Lost
Secretly Canadian
originally published April 9, 2008
A true mark of maturity for any band is the ability to abandon its musical baggage, renouncing all that is superfluous in sound. Just as an effective writer must learn the art of Occam’s Razor, Windsor for the Derby has modeled its career off of the “less-is-more” mentality - a trademark for most post-rock bands in its league. After a year and a half of studio drudgery, How We Lost is the product of laborious effort resulting in a lightweight album that passes you by just as easily as it comes.
Like a wholesome morning breakfast, the band’s carefree sound fills you up without weighing you down. Cloud-like guitar formations slowly take shape as subdued vocals occasionally burst into melodious, heavenly choir. “Hold On” invites a strong sense of shoegaze, with a nod to My Bloody Valentine’s amorphous guitar textures. Unlike the band's sonically more aggressive Texan counterparts, Explosions in the Sky, Windsor for the Derby utilizes the entire album as a canvas for one continuous crescendo, as tracks flow seamlessly into one another in one sweeping moment. The cryptic “Troubles” features meandering layers of slide guitars that segue into a vortex of screaming reverb before reverting back to familiar sonic ground.
Shining through mid-album like a calm in the storm, “Forgotten” embraces the plight of the loner, reminding us that on our own, we can face our deceptions, but that “Together, there’s no truth/ Together we’re bad liars.” In hindsight, loss is never what it seems… in this case, the band’s loss is our gain.
Collin Herring
Past Life Crashing
Independent Release
originally published April 9, 2008
In a year already shaping up to be a strong one for alt-country, out emerges the not-exactly-prolific Texan with only his third album in six years. But pardon him this time, dude’s been busy. Since the release of his previous, near-perfect album in 2005 (The Other Side of Kindness), his life has been a lightning rod of repeated upheaval: marriage, divorce and not one, but two stints in rehab. If there’s one thing that can sugar life’s pills though, it’s Herring’s effortless songwriting style. This time out, his country-rock shows a less rugged, more introspective texture. With the exception of the sweetly crestfallen “Punches” (featuring the always excellent Kathleen Edwards on backing vocals), the slow numbers tend to drag ass. It’s always been the big, ringing gestures that flexed his talent best. Whether it’s the easy sweeps of “Pictures” or the back-road soul of “One Last Morning,” there are enough of them herein to make this a highly recommended album. The interstate-rock muscle may be muted this time around, but his fine-grit sound is still furnished with acres of twanged elegance. The facile melodies and graceful movement his songs continue to display prove that, despite a surprisingly low profile, Herring is one of alt-country’s premiere talents.
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