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CITIZINE REVIEWS Plus! Rare, classic performances by Sun Ra, and The Yardbirds now on DVD and CD. By
Mark Prindle Trans
Am America’s favorite sports car is back at your ass for the ‘04 with a album for old fans. Possibly stung by accusations of suckassiness (with which I wholeheartedly disagree), the Ams retreated from the on-the-nose ‘80s nostalgia of Tits And Ass to go back to the sound the kids dig -- electronic music and funky bass/guitar hard technology rock. Consider this the “Back To The Known” of the Washington DC trio, if you’re a huge, monstrous Bad Religion fag. Oops! I meant “fan”! Oops! I meant “fag!” On this CD, Trans Ma finally admits to their Washington “Nation’s Capital of Corruption” DC origins with a work somewhat focused around our current administration’s “War On Terror,” a disgusting propaganda machine geared towards idiots like Dennis Miller who think Bush is a “tough president” because the pussy has the “guts” to send a bunch of kids he’s never met to DIE in Irag. What “GUTS” that man has! Can I do that too? Will that make me tough if I hire a bunch of people to do my fighting for me? The corrupt pieces of human garbage. Trans Am knows it. I know it. Al Franken knows it. Dennis Miller is a bearded pile of fuck. But that’s not fair, to focus a review on a shitty President. Let’s talk about the music. Fantastic production! Beautiful phased bass and guitar tones, and a ton of excellent riffs and hooks, both bass-wise and keyboard-wise. This is definitely a return to their most appreciated sound, and fans confused by the last record will dig the hell out of it. The overall mood is pretty dark, to suit that of our current world situation. Only a few songs have lyrics, but a few others feature political samples pulled out of context and twisted into more honest interpretations (example: “The battle of Irag will destroy hospitals and schools.”). One track is a 5-second Flipper sample. Another sounds like the intro to “Let My Love Open The Door.” A third features high-speed bongos. A fourth plops a D.C. weather forecast on top of three synth notes, then speed manipulates the meteorologist’s voice until his announcements are in the exact same KEY as the music!!!! I love Trans Am. I admit that I used to just be jealous of them, but I’ll be screwed in the eye socket if they haven’t turned out to be one fantastic electro-rock band. Their hooks are hot, their tones are futuristic and wild, and their sense of humor is smart as hell (how else to explain song titles like “Pretty Close To The Edge” and “Is Trans Am Really Your Friend?”). Thank you, Trans Am, for “the beginning of the end of America.” Only complaints are that a few of the less evocative tracks are dragged on too long. But that’s a pretty common thing with Trans Am. They probably do it just to piss my off off. Dance to the future of music, and leave your nu-metal on the coat rack. Trans Am are the voice of our nation’s 30-year-olds. The
Arm Energetic drumming, cheap keyboards, swoopy bass lines, scratchy reverbed guitars, KILLER hooks and a guy shouting -- put it all together and you've got a The Arm band! How could you NOT love a band with the good taste to write the lyric, "Good evening! We are not The Fall!"? Maybe they're not, but they're smart enough to create exciting new music in the same sort of vein as that greatest of all British bands (The Fall, not The Beatles). For two specific examples, "We Are Bright Young Men!" is driven by a white-hot guitar lick from angst-pop Hellven, and the melodic white noise organ/guitar wash of "Give Up While You're Young!" is one of the most untraditionally beautiful pieces of recording I've heard this year -- and I'm talking fiscal year, not calendar year! I really like this band. If you're into that old late '70s experimental type of punk rock and no wave (The Contortions, Gang of Four, Pere Ubu), you'll welcome The Arm with open arms. For a total of three arms. Bayside It's unbelievable that there's so much confusion over the definition of "emo." There's like five hundred billion bands out there that sound like they're about to cry over a girl every second of their lives. Those are "grindcore" bands. Bands like Bayside, on the other hand, play "emo," which (whether punky or poppy -- in Bayside's case poppy) involves sadness, desperation, gentle guitar lines, melodic sober vocals and lyrics like "I'll finally understand why time can wash away love like it was made of sand and it's wonderful, the pain that comes with regret." And that's the main thing about Bayside really -- the singer just cries and cries, threatening suicide over and over again without ever following through. Jerks like this need to realize that (a) there are more than one woman in the world, (b) they're blessed as FUCK to be rich white people free of disease (assuming they are) and (c) life's going to kill them soon enough so they'd might as well try to have fun while it's actually an option. They're awfully good melodicists but Christ, don't any bands form for the pussy anymore? The PUSSY PUSSY PUSSY???? Wait, slow down. What do you mean I'm not Ted Nugent? The
Yardbirds The sound clarity on this 40-year-old live recording is amazing! You’d think that the band would be drowned out by all the lasers and screaming beatniks, but everything is as crisp and clear as the morning of a dream. Bassist Paul Samwell-Smith is booming along like a happy bouncy slightly-out-of-tune elephant, guitarist Eric Clapton of “It’s In The Way That You Use It” fame is twanging those bluesy lickables, drummer -- I CAN’T GO THROUGH THE WHOLE BAND, THERE’S LIKE FIVE HUNDRED GUYS IN THE YARDBIRDS! But if you want to hear British blues-rock at its clearest, boomingest, most fun and early and exciting with singer Keith Relf chit-chatting with his audience (he stopped doing that after he died), you’re a real ass if you miss Live! Blueswailing July ‘64. As a longtime Yardbirds fan to the end, I was especially pleased to hear a slow blues called “The Sky Is Crying,” which I don’t think has ever appeared on a Yardbirds release before. Mike
Jourgensen When you’re already world-famous for one talent, it’s oft-times difficult to suddenly hop into a different one. See Bruce Willis for one example. Or that time Michael Jordan played baseball. And although Mike Jourgensen is not a household name by any means, his pseudonymous past activities have established him as a master of avant-garde humor. So how should the world react when he suddenly, at LONG last, presents himself as an indie rocker? Will we tell him to stick with what he knows, or should we open our hearts and minds and say, “Okay, MONTy Hall, I’ll take what’s behind Door Number Two!”? Well, unless you’ve been smoking POT, you’re gonna want to check out Mike’s beautiful rock actION. Featuring an emotional loud-but-melodic approach reminiscent of such fine mid-’80s SST bands as Dinosaur Jr. and Husker Du, Late At Night presents ten masterfully crafted (and craftfully mastered) guitar-driven explorations of romantic loss, confusion and regret. Aside from one flute, Mike plays every instrument on here, including guitar, bass, drums, organ (is that a CASio?), piano, mellotron and loops - and I’ll be hog-jiggered if he isn’t a natural talent at all of them! It could be argued that his melancholy chord structures and wah-drenched solos are a bit too J Mascisy, but the Jourgman’s got the advantage of having an honestly pleasant and pretty voice to listen to (a huge improvement over J’s excruciating warble). So put down that botTLE of liquid pcp and pick up the latest in distorted sorrow - direct to you from www.noisetent.com! Sun
Ra & His Arkestra In 1959, a man named Edward O. Bland set out to prove a point about jazz music. This point was simple: Jazz could only have been created by Negros because its mixture of freedom (in the notes) and restrictions (in the changes) is the Negro's cry of joy and pain in response to the freedom of God-Given life compounded by White America's refusal to offer the Negros any sort of future. Also, White People have no soul and are not human beings. And the only hope for the future is the Negro. Oh, also Jazz is dead already, even though it's only 1959. Also, White People are really, really stupid and have never experienced pain. The backdrop for this heartwarming tale of racial harmony and poor acting is plentiful footage of visionary pianist Sun Ra during his Chicago period, alongside tenor saxophonist John Gilmore and many other Arkestra members. This is the first commercial release of this short film, and if you're a Sun Ra fan even a little bit, you pretty much need it because you can't get this particular material anywhere else. I have to warn parents though: the film features abundant cigarette smoking. Polarbear When Jane's Addiction released their hotly anticipated fourth album Strays in the summer of 2003, one special man was missing. A man who once performed the astounding bass line that drove "Ted, Just Admit It." A man who had the guts to tell Perry Farrell, "Nobody gives a shit about this band anymore" (Presumably. I mean, I totally made up that quote, but I could see somebody saying that). A man with something better to do than tarnish the catalog of a previously infallible '80s alternative rock combo. That man was Ray Davies. Another man that was missing was Eric Avery, former bass player for popular funk rock band Jane's Addiction. Having long since replaced idiot savant diva Perry Farrell with idiot diva Alanis Morrissette in his Book Of People I Work With, Eric chose instead to stick with his own Polarbear project. Polarbear sounds not a whit like either Jane's Combat Simulations nor Alotta Moronicshit (ZING!), instead combining dark trip-hop electronica beats with chilly guitar progressions and the stone-cold voice of an understated non-singer who knows how to make the most out of his limited emotional range. Sort of like Chris Cornell without the Wildman wailing. Polarbear are dark and cold, but there's some humanity in there too if you listen closely enough. "Farm" is even kind of humorous! Granted, it's only a minute and a half long, but it's better than nothing! Remember that - write that down - "A minute and a half is better than nothing." That's totally gonna be a proverb for really stupid people someday. This
Microwave World Gang of Four bitter reggae, early Public Image Ltd.
bass-as-lead-instrument, Jonathan Richmanish deadpan vocals. Cool,
dark and danceable. Except "Alien/Sedition," which is
about the greatest Fall homage I've ever heard in my life - at least
since THE ARM!!!! Sean O'Neal heads up both bands and heads them
up quite well indeed. I get the feeling This Microwave World probably
gets more chicks because they're more "serious," but The
Arm - awww sweet sweet The Arm. ---- Reader Comments No Comments. |
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