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pipeline5.reviews
All reviews by Adam Strohm unless otherwise noted.
ReviewsA-K
LDT.Von Lmo.Moore, Shoup, Makihara.Nondor Nevai.Ng Kindheit.Old Bombs.Poem Rocket.Presocrati�s.Rovo.Schema.To Live and Shave in LA 2.Tone.U.S. Maple.Vandermark 5.White Out.Witchy Poo.XBXRX.
LDT.Splice.Electronic Musik
LDT, like many other groups, formed due to a self-desribed "dissatisfaction" with a lot of current music. From their abstract electronic output, one can only guess that a large source of their dissatisfaction was with electronic music, all too often watered down to a lowest-common-common denominator formula of beat and melody. So, inspired by innovators and improvisors of all types, this British quintet made Splice, their second Lp of improvised and reconstructed electronic music. For the most part, Splice is pretty abstract stuff, built upon ambient structures of all sorts, both soothing and jarring. Though a distinct beat is scarcely to be found on this Lp, most of the pieces prominently feature a repeated sound of theme, be it a explosion of harsh static, a sampled voice, or random bleeps, and, as the song progresses, this theme is added to, dissected, and slowly experimented with in various ways. Extended bursts of grinding static interrupt softer ambient clouds of sound, sampled voices U.S. Presidents are warped into each other, and it all happens with a subtle touch, lending a sense of calculated cohesion throughout the Lp's duration, even on the improvised cuts. This subtlety, however, also ensures that few moments on the album, even the most unexpected, carry a powerful punch. Splice drifts by in a way not unappealing to the ear, but, as one song drifts into another, this never-ceasing nature of the work undermines its more promising moments. The music is heard as a steady stream, shifting and sliding in places, but rarely making the 90� turns that would accentuate the sounds themselves. In places where a litte more distinctness or aggresion would better service the music, its subtlety causes Splice to all too often lean towards tedium. Obviously well-steeped in experimental music, as seen in their impressive website, a clearinghouse of information on musicians from Stockhausen to Neu! to Thurston Moore, LDT surely has the tools to cut-and-paste their way into some quite interesting music. If they can manage to add some vigor to their work, the boredom it often breeds may very well disappear.
Von Lmo . Future Language . Flemish Masters
As the story goes, Von Lmo was born either
on Earth before World War II or on the planet of Strazar. He honed his musical skills in space with people like Sun Ra, and materialized on the third planet from the sun in the 1970's to play in bands like Kongress and Red Transistor, with whom he woul dintroduce mild-mannered New Yorkers to the music of the future. Future Language, recorded sometime in the late 70's after the less-than-amiable split of Red Transistor, is, as Mr. Lmo states in the prelude to the disc's opening track, he and his band's attempt to deliver a six million year-old message (the Future Language) to us all, a daunting task, to be sure. Oddly enough, this language of the future isn't an other-worldy mix of sound unable to be comprehended by human ears, but a skillful mix of early heavy metal, no wave, punk, and early rock 'n' roll. The song structure is, for the most part, simple and driving, guitars punctuated and supported by drums and sax. However, this simplicity isn't a detriment to the group's important mission. It's the familiarity of the core of this almost unmistakably American music (that Lmo and his band layer with outer space effects, caustic explosions of damaged guitar solos, percussion meltdowns, and other touches) that gives Future Language it's distinct sound. As a vocalist, Von Lmo is probably th emost distinctive part of the whole mess, with his surprisingly strong baritone mixed far above the music. Lyrically, Future Language ranges from the hedonism of screaming "Long live heavy metal!" and "baby"-laced sexual innuendos to unexpected pleas for world peace, self-confidence, and being yourself. What's most surprising about the whole thing, I think, is that Von Lmo comes off as a nice guy. Behind the brutal, relentless pounding of is a feeling that's oddly humane, even uplifting...and not in a bad way like the sappy proclimations of Christian metal bands of the 80's. In an era in which his no wave contemporaries were being accused of being musical and philosophical nihlists attempting to desrtoy rock, Von Lmo embraced both guitar chords and humanity, and still managed to make great and blistering music. Marred only by small moments of flat production and Lmo's somewhat annoying tendency to occasionally (and needlessly) name-drop Red Transistor, and a punishing (in a good way, of course), but obviously tacked-on version of "Shake, Rattle, and Roll," it seems almost a travesty that this album has been out of print for so long. But, thanks to the philanthropy of Flemish Masters Weasel Walter and his pseudonymed crony Bjorn Dead, we can all hear a message found travelling through space six million years ago today. The Future Language. Lucky us.
Thurston Moore, Wally Shoup, Toshi Makihara.Hurricane Floyd.Sublingual
Hurricane Floyd, taking its name from the storm that battered Cambridge, Massachusetts on the night this live disc was recorded, is the latest in Thurston Moore's ever-growing catalog of his "Learn Your Unacknowledged Jazz Heroes" series, this installment featuring saxiphonist Wally Shoup and percussionist Toshi Makihara. Moore has spent the last decade or so expanding his musical pallette and reaching further and further into his inner improvisational-self, becoming a free music workaholic whose collaborations with legends like Rashied Ali and Cecil Taylor and more unknown musicians like Shoup and Makihara are easily beginning to constitute the bulk of many stores' "Sonic Youth" sections. What's interesting is that while Moore's encounters with people like Ali and Taylor remain fodder for bootleg collectors only, his escapades with lesser-known musicians such as long-time collaborator Tom Surgal abound on labels of all genres and sizes. This disc, Sublingual's addition to the mother lode, lands, stylistically, somewhere in the gaping chasm between Moore's In-Store barnburner with Nels Cline and the lulling, almost sleepy quality of some of Moore's more recent work (Not Me, with Surgal, for instance), which made buying his side-project discs a bit of a gamble for a while. Hurricane Floyd contains an even mix of subdued interplay and more racous destruction, and the back-and-forth shifting between the two embodies both the range of each participant and the communication between them. Though both exhibit a distinct voice, Shoup and Makihara tend to keep close to the "traditional" free-improv path (whatever that is...) , but with fairly interesting results. The sound stemming from Moore's guitar dances between rhythmic fingerings that cavort in, over, and and around Makihara's shimmering crescendos and the thick, heavy slabs of aural sheet metal that collide with Shoup's elastic sax sputterings. Oddly inserted into the middle of the disc is a track of Moore's solo acoustic work from his openeing set that same night, which represents some of the most interesting stuff he has going right now. Though the sequential placement of "Altar Boy, Church Basement" as the third track on this cd is a bit questionable, it offers a window into a side of Moore that is, as of yet, all too scarce on cd or vinyl (though, with luck, that will change with SYR6). As with many of Moore's live ensemble releases, the guitar tends to get a little squashed behind the other instruments, and the transfer of this music onto cd eliminates the spatial interplay and atmosphere of the sounds that I'm certain was wonderful that night. In the end, Hurricane Floyd doesn't exceed expectations, but soldily meets them, and if you're a fan of Thurston Moore's warping of what we've been taught as free jazz guitar technique, this disc is one of the best choices to fill up that "Sonic Youth" rack at your local store since the aforementioned In-Store. This is the sort of music that always seems to lose something on cd, but if you've never seen Mr. Moore tear it up free-improv style, this performance, with two worthy collaborators, shouldn't be a bad place to start.
Nondor Nevai.The A Capella Cantata.Flemish Masters
Whew...32 minutes of self-indulgent "hari-karaoke" straight outta
the mind and mouth of Nandor/Nondor Nevai, who, it seems, would
either like us to believe he's a musical genius years ahead of his time or an idiot savante...or both. Calling it karaoke might be a little misleading , since Nondor seems to sing or say whatever comes to his head more than he ever mimics what might be the actual lyrics to the music he's singing over. His backing music includes everything from disco "classics" like "Disco Inferno" and "Night Fever" to Christian metal (Stryper, I think) to old-school rap beats. Definitely original, The A Capella Cantata features only a man, his karaoke machine, a microphone, and some effects in a menagerie of vocal stylings that range from semi-serious raps to off-hand comments, from to spoken word to tender falsetto that quickly turns to a gutteral growl. Sometimes extremely funny, other times surprisingly competent, other times annoying, this is an album that's hard to take seriously, but easier to enjoy in any number of ways. Whether you're laughing with Nondor or at him, or shaking your head in pity and bewilderment (or, most likely, doing all three), chances are you'll definitely have something to say about this disc. The A Capella Cantata seems to be an album that you know you'll like or hate before you even hear it, so if you want to hear a guy sing "Is This Good for Vulva?," discuss what version of "Mean Mr. Mustard" he prefers most, and ramble on about whatever his muse inspires him to expound upon, you know where to find it. Whether he's an avant-garde comic, or a mentally unstable exhibitionist, Nondor Nevai lets it all hang out, and it's up to you to try to sort out the details...enjoy it if you can.
Ng Kindheit.Deaf Like Me 7".Sound Org
Sound Org Records' first release is a 7" from Ng Kindheit, a quartet whose sometimes noisy thinking-man's agression fills both sides of this brief single, and if I didn't know that they had originated in Madison, Wisconsin, these two songs songs would make me swear that Ng Kindheit was from Chicago... The title track is a bass-heavy, stop/start, math-rock anthem accompanied by the gibberish of vocalist turned mental patient Dave Pedersen. The B-side, "Hell to Get Along With," metamorphisizes from a remarkably accurate U.S. Maple knock-off duel between guitarist Tim Miller and drummer Nick Kraska into some sort of post-hardcore catharsis churn led by Pederson's screams and another thumping bassline from Brad Droessler. Ng Kindheit show
flares of originality in the two songs on this 7", and though their formula probably wouldn't stay as interesting over the course of a whole album, the single's brevity leaves me with little to criticize.
Old Bombs.The Silenium Bombs.Spite
This one-sided cassette features a splattering of electro-noise
from Carlos Giffoni of Monotract and former Monotract musicians Dino and Vanessa. The tape consists mainly of static-laced sounds and distorted samples, giving the listener an idea of what it must sound like when your radio's AM band is subject to demonic possesion. The Silenium Bombs screams, groans, and coughs in some interesting ways, and, thankfully, the short length of the tape means that any monotonous moments are short-lived. The Silenium Bombs, though definitely not an essential release in the world of electro-mayhem, delivers a pretty solid little package.
Poem Rocket.Psychogeography.Atavistic Records
I think with this CD, pretentious is a word that applies very well. Psychogeography starts out strong, and seems to infuse many elements of other heroic art-rock type bands (even maybe a little bit of Sonic Youth?). But as the Cd progresses, it starts to fall short of its intended goals. Towards the end, you start to wonder where they were going in the first place. While not horrible, it is not by any means great. Is it good? Well, it's not bad, per se. But, is it good? If i were pinned down and forced to answer, i'd have to say that it's not good. The highlights for me were the song "Subway Relocation Memo" and the title of the Disc. i suppose that's not saying much, but it's really all i can say. [mgc3]
Presocrati�s.Presocrati�s Serve Imperialism.Table of the Elements
Presocrati�s, the headliners of Table of the Elements' 2001 European showcase tour, experiment with an interesting mix of music: ambient electronics and melodramatic balladry. Having seen the group live, I was less than impressed (though, truth be told, I had to leave early), so I was quite interested to see what their recorded music would bring, and whether it would solve the main problems that I saw with the live performance, namely the lack of direction that seemed to plague the music and the akward combination of the group's two stylistic tendencies, whic I still wasn't convinced could go well together. As far as the first point is concerned, Presocrati�s Serve Imperialism is leaps and bounds above the duo's live perofrmance. The ep sounds tightly focused and purposeful, and although all of the different sounds of the ep never gel completely, the three songs contained within this twenty minutes move in a clear direction, whether it's the cloudy, minimalist electronica of "Red Democracy (Schizopherenia is No Moral Voictory)" or the somewhat-hard-to-listen-to hushed acoustics of "The Break-Even Point." It's "Nestor Mahko Discovers America/Pig Latin," the ep's opening (and longest) track, that is the Presocrati�s most interesting, mainly for its straightforward attempt to combine the band's two personalities, but, also for this reason, it's also the most disappointing of the three. The song begins with the sound of a cd skipping, moving slowly but surely through the guitar-heavy sampled song much in the way that Martin Arnold's films wonderously stutter repetitively through the scene on the screen. But, just as things have gotten rreally good, the music falls into a more simplified, low-key pattern, and vocalist Need Thomas Windham's overly-emotionally-strained voice enters the mix, causing the whole thing to take an irreversible turn for the worse. Windham's voice and the electronics behind it fail to mesh successfully or even clash interestingly, and the ep's only truly interesting moments are long forgotten by the end of the track's nine minutes. Give Presocrati�s technical merit points for the difficulty of what they've attempted, but the multiple-personalitied Presocrati�s Serve Imperialism might leave you wondering why they even tried.
Rovo.Imago.Incidental Music
Rovo is a Japanese super-group of sorts, a pairing of Boredoms' Yamamoto Seiichi and Katsui Yuji of Bondage Fruit in a project that's sound will confound listeners hoping for some good, old-fashioned Japanoise freak-out. Instead, Imago takes a more subdued approach, more like recent Boredoms releases, and rather than full-of-surprises noise rock, concentrates more on artificial psychedelia and trance-inducing electronics. Each song is a slow build-up of techno-inspired electronic space rock, subtly growing layer by layer until reaching a climax of undulating cacophony, sounding like a more exploratory Salaryman with traces of Autechre or Oval dilluted in the mix. Though it seems odd that Imago's "man-driven trance" (as the band calls it) spawned a whole new label simply to release it in North America, the album's carefully constructed swells of busier-than-it-sounds composition and instrumentation are sure to find a fan base in the US and Canada. isn't perfect: the guitar-driven "Larva" can't shake the cheesy feeling that results from its rhythmic, repetitive guitar strum, and, aside from the "N'Dam," the album's opener, and the following song, "Horses," the album's crescendos often take too long to develop, languishing for too long in the songs' simple beginnings before implementing the beats or instrumental extras that fill out the sound. Complaints aside, however, Rovo's debut is an impressive one, and though it may not deserve the huge loads of hype that will undoubtedly accompany its triumphant release to American fans who have been waiting, Imago should continue the tradition of fine Japanese experimentation furthered by the participants' orignal groups.
Schema.s/t.5RC
This debut from the collaboration of Hovercraft members Campbell,
Sadie and Ric with Stereolab's Mary Hansen was a pleasant surprise.
The album as a whole sounds comfortably mature and focused, an
indie-poppie-dancie-rockie journey. The timing seems most applaudable,
as nothing seems cut off or painfully strung out, which is often
expected from this branch of music. The melodies come organically
from the music, partially due to Mary's vocals functioning simply
as another instrument in the songs. Atmospheric and looming, with
occasional bright spots stemming from the noisy rock bursts, the
collaboration sounds like a Stereolab who was greatly influenced
by their tour with Sonic Youth last year. A marraige of music's
current favorite sounds, the album is not shocking or terribly life-altering,
but it is certainly not over- or under-ambitious, which is the main
problem with most other music of a similar style. "A must" for
Stereolab/Hovercraft fans, or anyone who thinks that
the combination of these sounds could be successful; because with Schema, it is. Lori Felker
To Live and Shave in LA 2.Kill Misty: Threnody/300 Dollar Silk Shirt.self-released
Truth be told, I was a little wary of To Live an Shave in LA 2 before I heard them. I didn't quite know what to expect from "occult free glam," but I was ready for some sort of self-indulgent, heavy-handed mess of loosely orchestrated chaos. What I got instead was a sharp slap to the cranium telling me that I should've expected more. Kill Misty... is a surprisingly sharp orgy of distortion, disorienting production, calculated chaos; a collage of sound riddled with studio effects, explosions of brutal feedback and unexpected noises, made by both human and instrument, whose unstated sense of rhythm seems both alien and primitive. The man behind the microphone, session vocalist Om Myth, is the ghost of a glam chanteur whose scorched-silk voice holds court over Kill Misty..., spouting mostly unintelligible vocals in the perverse fashion of a rock 'n' roll bad boy whose reached that painful period of faked introspection and crooning about the more delicate parts of life. Misty Martinez, the album's other vocalist, peppers the music with "personal effects," mainly consisting of the moans, groans, and whispers of seduction and orgasmic rapture, giving the term "free sex" a new musical definition that has nothing to do with internet sites or telephone numbers advertised in the back of Rolling Stone. The vocals are interrupted by bursts of blast-beats, sax squeals, and and deformed guitar and bass, with each instrument run through a gamut of effects and studio trickery. Weasel Walter and Rat Bastard's streams of guitar/bass discharge rock and heave under a heavy layer of distortion, while Nondor's spastic, death metal drumming punctuates the music in sudden explosions of sound. Kill Misty... is a powerful statement made by a group of musicians with an aversion to boredom and wankery, a shuddering mass of sound in which no emotion is left unaffected and no note uneffected. To Live and Shave in LA 2 are much more in control than they'd like us to believe, and the level of well-executed and self-conscious musical disaster found on Kill Misty... makes it impossible to regard it simply as thoughtless noise-making. Instead, whether pre-composed or improvised and re-structured in the studio, TLASILA2's debut album shows a surprising sense of subconscious unity and cohesion, a definite feeling that the music's going somewhere and that practically every sound that leaves the speakers is meant to be there, in its exact place, even if the band didn't know it when they made the sound. This self-released disc is one in which all of the self-assured posturing and provocation of the band amounts to music that nearly as good as the lofty promises made by the band, and, with a proper release (with extra music) coming soon on X+Z=0 records, this disc may finally get the attention that it deserves.
Tone (The Expanded Ensemble).Structure.Dischord
Structure, the third Dischord release from Washington DC's Tone, sees the group expanding their line-up, adding strings and horns to the mix. This accounts not only for the addition of "expanded ensemble" to their name, but also for some of the parts of Structure that feel distinctly unlike more well-known guitar ensemble offerings. Sure, the group's crescendos of sharp, crisp guitars and drums bring to mind Branca and the Wharton Tiers Ensemble (Kevin Kim of WTE belongs to Tone), but the stylistic comparisons that I could make are so embarrasingly
obvious that I'll do my best to avoid them. Structure's songs tend to follow a proven pattern: they start simple, quiet, and restrained and get louder, fuller, and more robust . This makes for some good, epic-sounding music, but also some slow, stoic progressessions that seem too deliberate. Tone seem to use more rock language in their writing than most ensembles of this sort, and the results are, on the whole, pretty pleasing. The addition of cello to "Revised Rights" gives the song a nice warmth, but, in most other cases, the "expanded ensemble" concept seems better left alone, as the horns sound a bit too much like muzak in most places... Overall, Structure sounds a little too polished, clean and sterile, but it can still present a pretty nice listen.
U.S. Maple.Acre Thrills.Drag City
Six years after their inception, U.S. Maple are still at their adversarial best, taking on rock music, their dedicated followers Pavement fans, their instruments, and each other in an all-or-nothing campaign that seems certain to end in a cataclysmic epiphany that will either result in the band ruling in world in a Wyld Stallyns-esque manner or their bodies being found dead and bloodied by their own instruments in a river somewhere in the Midwest. Either way, Acre Thrills is the group's fourth full-length declaration of independence, yet another laying down of the truths that they hold to be self-evident, and is just as striking as the manifestos that came before it. Whereas the band's last album, Talker, was a study of momentum and the kinetic and potential energy of single notes and silence, Acre Thrills, like stained glass shattering in reverse, brings it all back together, filling in the empty spaces to make the prettiest picture that U.S. Maple's ever painted. Former enemies like verses and choruses, stated melodies, and steady beats are welcomed into the U.S. Maple camp like never before, free to mingle with the sputtering, churning, climbing, and collapsing sounds that the band has made their name with. This use of more traditional songwriting tools isn't a concession made to the enemy (or pushed on them by their label), but a seamless integration of new concepts, a "know your enemy" development of hitherto-unheard or unrealized Maple-mannerisms, irrefutable proof that these guys can be pretty when they want to, too. The album's full of a feeling of hopeful melancholy; drummer Pat Samson, and guitarists Todd Rittman and Mark Shippy make spoiled, yet sweet music that's been out in the sun for too long but sounds better that way, while Al Johnson coughs and wheezes with a whole new soulful tenderness. Acre Thrills' sweet-and-sour nature is best exemplified by "Rice ain't Afraid of Nothing," a "ballad" that reeks of 1958 prom nostalgia and the akward delicacy of a lanky guy in a bad tux who's going to do everything he can to ensure that he'll score when it's all over. So, add Acre Thrills to the list, an equal among giants in the catalog of the best band going today, a band whose cocky assurance canonly be forgiven because it's completely founded in reality. The calculated purposefulness that has characterized the rest of U.S. Maple's lean and economic recordings is here again, a nothing-wasted thurst even further into a place known only to the band, a land in which a guy named Chang is attractive, and home is okay. In all of its intentionally misconstrued prettiness and smudged and doodled-upon glory, Acre Thrills is yet another amazing offering from four guys who just might be able to save rock if they weren't too busy having their way with it.
The Vandermark 5.Burn the Incline.Atavistic
The Vandermark 5 are a steady group. The quintet has managed, over four albums, to tinker subtley with a proven formula with results that seems to keep their fans content. I expected more of the same from Burn the Incline: it wouldn't suprise me, but the formula that had pleased me in the past would again leave me content with yet another V5 product. In a sense, I was right. If you like past Vandermark 5 releases, this one should please you, too. However, I can't help but feel that Burn the Incline is a bit of a disappointment. Ken Vandermark's compositional consistency is a testament to his talent, although, it seems now to be veering dangerously close to a complacency and comfortability that dilutes the excitement that past Vandermark 5 albums offered. The abundance of ballads, a recently realized
personal pet peeve, is more obvious on Burn the Incline than ever before, and only rarely does the group truly let go and rattle off an exhilirating string of tight, lightning-fast phrases or a blast of well-placed improvisational blitzkrieg. This lack of firepower leaves little chance for the V5 to offset their softer side, therefore weighing the album down with an excess of the slower stuff that can't really move a listener who's drowning in it. The funk stylings which appear on the album can't replace the group's sleek jazz-noir missles fired on 1999's Simpatico, and do little to offer reprieve from the rest of the disc. At times, the best parts of the Vandermark 5 come shining through, but these glimpses can't bring relief to this listener's ears. Let's just hope that next time, Ken Vandermark
siezes the opportunity to capitalize on his strengths as a composer and improvisor, and that he and the rest of the group can blow us all away more often than they serenade us.
White Out (with Jim O'Rourke).drunken little mass.Ecstatic Peace!.
The combination of free improv and electronics is one that seems to have caught the fancy of many a musician in recent years, and though most ensembles and bands tend to do things their own way, it sometimes seems like every other performer is trading in a guitar or drums for a synth or, more recently, a powerbook. On drunken little mass, White Out, comprised of Tom Surgal and Lin Culbertson, adds their own spin on the concept, with live drums (Surgal) melded with not only synth, but also flute and autoharp (Culbertson) in a boiling brew of live improvisation. Though it's compiled from extracts from three different dates in NYC, the majority of drunken little mass consists of a show at the Siren's Claw featuring the multi-talented Jim O'Rourke as an addition to the duo, a fitting addition as O'Rourke is one of the people who helped to bring the powerbook-as-improv-instrument into the public eye. drunken little mass is a volatile vortex of the skitter and scatter Surgal's free jazz drumming underneath the ominous shadow of Culbertson's robust electronic clouds, with accompaniment from both O'Rourke's fairly-straight free jazz guitar and subtle electronic pattering. The disc's longer pieces, the seventeen-minute "fury breath flying at half mast" ansd the twenty-minute "maelstrom and tear," the first of which features O'Rourke, are the disc's best selections, offering the ensemble both the chance to fully develop their sound (which, on some of the shorter tracks seems stuck in one place) and also, in the case of the latter, work nice touches of flute and voice into the mix. Often, drunken little mass's other tracks aren't as captivating, but White Out's electronic output is varied enough in both mood and technique that, the duo is able to inject life and vitality into their work that many of their contemporaries can't always muster.
Witchy Poo.Public Works.5RC
Many things come to mind when one hears this collection of B-Sides, rarities, etc. Perhaps Slim Moon had only read about Punk/Indy Rock and never actually heard it, decided what he thought it should sound like, and recorded these songs. Perhaps he was under the influence of some kind of controlled substance. Either way this album is very interesting indeed. How to describe the sound? See above. A hodge-podge (if you will) of pop, punk,
indy, and classic rock mixed together with Moon's strange sensibilities. Slim obviously has a pop-culture catalog in his brain, and he's not afraid to use it. All manner of instrumentation is utilized, guitars, keyboards, samplers, etc. It creates an interesting sound one might liken to Tom Waits
on some sort of non-prescription cold medicine (if one were me). This album features a veritable who's-who of the Pacific NorthWest Indy Heroes (including members of Unwound, Karp, Bikini Kill, The Make-Up, and others), though admittedly the majority of them appear on the first track only. It also features covers of classics by the Cars ("Touch and Go"), Cat Stevens ("Moonshado"), and Melvins ("Anal Satan"). And, of course a song about my current state of residence ("Pennsylvania"), and a track entitled
"Epistemology". with all that, how can one go wrong?[mgc3]
XBXRX.Gop Ist Minee.5RC
Mobile, Alabama's XBXRX, from their cryptic name to equally cryptic website, album title, and band photos seem to cultivate an air of hip weirdness, and, judging from the over-the-top luading given to both the band's musical revolutionary appraoch and their off-the-wall oddness in their press release, it seems that they've been successful in at least some way. Gop Ist Minee, their first disc for 5RC, packs all of the jumpy, high-strung eccentricism that the band could fit into a tidy thirty-minute package. Opened by a cheery, triumphant electronic ditty, the album quickly dives into a one-after-another barrage of heavy, fast and furious tunes of disjointed, pounding rock which, though definitely odd, fails to really exhibit the ambitious levels of peculiar strangeness that the band seems to have aimed for. The songs are tight and well-executed, and, without question, more interesting and forward-thinking than much of today's underground rock in terms of both songwriting and execution, but, for all the disc's violent goofiness, XBXRX fail to really set themselves apart in terms of individuality or originality. The screaming/falsetto vocals, science-fiction electronic garnishes, and nervy, twitching funkiness draw obvious lines to stylistic predecessors from Braniac, in many cases, and to early Devo in others. Not a bad line of ancestry, in any case, but not stunning originality, either. Perhaps it's unfair to judge the group so closely on this one aspect of their music, but it's their eccentricism that's their strong point in getting attention, and, with a better incorporation of this bizarre side into the base of their music, XBXRX might be able to develop their eccentricism into something more meaningfully potent.