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CITIZINE REVIEWS By Steven Ivy --- This is a CD that I have been telling everyone about since I first let its controlled chaotic energy escape from my speakers. Call Me Lightning are an angular post-punk trio that could be compared to Les Savy Fav or Detatchment Kit. Almost every track on The Trouble We're In seems like it could explode into pieces at any moment if it weren't for the technical stability of the musicians involved. While the rhythm section clearly holds it all together, it is the guitar that serves as the real hook of each track. Nathan Lilley, who is also the vocalist, trades in the simple chord technique for rhythmically complex melodies which dance their was through the tracks with urgency as well as grace. His energetic vocal style can range from screaming to falsetto without any warning. The Trouble We're In is a great first listen, but an even better second. Backed with excellent production from Bill Skibbe and Pat Lilley, Call Me Lightning should definitely turn quite a few heads with this album.
Attention all insomniacs! Your medicine has finally arrived and it is called The New What Next... For one entire summer, I couldn't bare to remove Hot Water Music's Fuel For The Hate Game from my CD player. Many years and albums later, HWM have become one of the more easily dismissible punk rock acts in existence. The urgent energy and "passion on the edge of sanity" style that I knew and loved has given way to a very stale and over-polished version of what was supposed to be melodic hardcore punk. The New What Next is just more of the same. The album, save a few semi-interesting riffs here and there, is so predictably boring that you could imagine the band members lounging in sofa-chairs as they recorded it. The flat production by the always "hit-or-miss" Brian McTernan doesn't help matters much either. The New What Next is better than most of what Epitaph has to offer these days, but the over-emphasis on vocal harmony, and under-emphasis on energy and passion, leave you with barely a punk rock record and, in my opinion, barely a Hot Water Music record as well.
There is something to be said about straight-forward, catchy pop-punk in a land dominated by cookie-cutter teenage angst ridden screamo-pop. Dynamite Boy stick to their guns on their self-titled fourth album and deliver twelve more pop-punk gems which focus primarily on catchy vocal melody and harmonies (to which I found myself singing along a few times). Where the album falls short is exactly where many pop-punk albums have struggled in the past. A few of the songs are too average and similar to even remember once the album is over. Two of the songs actually have the same chorus vocal melody in different keys. But, songs like "Photograph" and "Harmonic" are the kind of power-punk anthems that would be perfectly welcomed blasting out of the car stereo speakers of any broken-hearted rock n' roll fan (Trust me, I just tried it). Despite the obvious pitfalls of being a pop-punk band, each Dynamite Boy album is always better than the last. In today's stale and recycled rock scene, that in itself is quite an accomplishment.
If a band is not going to put much effort into writing or recording their music, why should you or I waste our time listening to it? Black Lips have a late '60s/early '70s garage rock sound that takes influence from The Stooges and Velvet Underground without any of the originality or energy of either of those bands. The recording ranges from very low-fi to "let's just turn on the tape recorder and make some noise." The vocals are either buried in the mix or under a muddle of distortion and reverb. My biggest gripe is that Black Lips seem to entirely miss the point of the music they are trying to make. While Velvet Underground would use noise and repetition to create a mood, Black Lips seem to use these techniques for a lack of better ideas. Clocking in at only a half hour, I still had a very rough time getting through this album.
I am definitely not an expert on electronic music. But, I do know a good thing when I hear one. Books On Tape is actually just Todd Drootin and his various pieces of equipment. But, the one beauty of being alone in the creation of any music is the fact that no one can tell you that an idea is too unusual. The music that Todd has created is an experimental hodge-podge of programmed beats, samples and sounds from various sources. The Business End rarely lets you get settled in any one mood. While occasionally maintaining a semi-danceable quality, the songs seem to intentionally avoid repetition. One track can lead you anywhere from ambient to drum and bass, garage, or glitch, without ever overstaying its welcome. None of the nine tracks included on "The Business End" pass the five minute mark. Even with a couple of less interesting moments, Books On Tape not only seems to have a firm grasp on the manipulation of electronic music, but also an understanding of the audience who may or may not be fans of electronic music.
A Girl Called Eddy is basically pianist/ vocalist/ songwriter Eddy Moran and some backing musicians. Her music is mellow and rather depressing. But, that's not necessarily a bad thing. From the first few bars of "Tears All Over Town," you realize that you are in for an album full of melancholic beauty. Coming off like a cross between Mazzy Star and The Carpenters (her voice often sounds eerily similar to Karen Carpenter), this self-titled album is strong but ultimately suffers from a lack of variety in style and structure. For short attention spans, it would definitely be difficult to get very interested in what is going on in each song. The album tends to drag bit and Moran's lyrics read like something out of a book of poetry by a depressed art school student. But the package that is A Girl Called Eddy, does have a kind of sour simplicity that makes it easy to relate to and therefore utterly likable. There are also a few moments of upbeat departure on tracks such as "The Long Goodbye" and "Life Through The Same Lens" which give the listener a brief lift from the morose tone of the rest of the album. One of the album's key allies is the excellent production by Colin Elliot. Each instrument (piano, strings, bass, drums, etc.) is allowed to breathe and flow smoothly through each track with enough space left over for the listener to comfortably find their way in if they please. Overall, A Girl Called Eddy's first effort is a fairly good album for lovers of gloomy pop music.
Even a insert booklet filled with pictures of hot semi-naked women couldn't save this album. Lars Frederiksen, of Rancid fame, and his bastards, dish out a steaming pile of re-hashed Rancid-esque anthemic snot-punk laced with profanity and plenty of punk-rock slogans to grace the backs of all of their tee-shirts. To be fair, the band is tight and energetic, the production is top-notch, and the songs are simple and repetitive enough for the 13 to 17-year-olds to really get into them. The entire album just makes me want to listen to Rancid's Let's Go. Unfortunately for Lars and this band, albums like that only come once in a career. Albums like Viking, however, are a dime a dozen.
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