Album Reviews
Dennis Hitchcox
Self-titled
2003, Dennis Hitchcox
www.cdbaby.com/hitchcox
Most often, a singer/songwriter will write a song, and then bring in other instruments during the recording session to add some depth. This method has its pros and cons. There is more to listen to, but sometimes the parts dangle and don't seem to have any purpose beyond just being there.
It seems Hitchcox had this in mind while recording this album. Each song is comprised of one vocal track, and no more than two guitar parts, usually just the chords and a simple solo. The bad news is that every song ends up sounding pretty much like every other song. The good news is that every song is really quite good. The guitar playing is superb and delicate. Dennis has one of those earthy kind of voices that feels vaguely familiar and living room comfortable. The songs sound like an up-beat version of Greg Brown, the early years. They're bluesy at times, ballad at others, and can switch back and forth without any creases, even within the same song. (Track 5, Give In is a good example.)
This album is a really great disk to pop in for some mellow company on a weekday, or at the end of a long party. It's mellow without being sleepy, though I'm sure it would be a fine record to drift off to. -da
Laserhawk
Fly by Air
2003, self released
www.flamefire.com
Laserhawk is tripped out portamento keyboards a la seventies funkglam. You know what I'm talking about: Battlestar Galactica space melees with Peter Frampton as narrator, gliding seamlessly from the heavy drudge of Led Zeppelin to the traipsing space jam of Fly Like an Eagle era Steve Miller.
No wait, it's the jazz fusion that Miles Davis pioneered. The mix of rock and jazz, structure and improv that Chuck Mangione got all wrong and my friend, as swanky as he can muster, likes to refer to as, "my cock" music. The kind of music you would listen to while combing the chest hair over your gold medallion, and then put on as you drive off to the disco in your Iroc.
Don't get me wrong, it's a more inspiring and intelligent listen than all that E.L.O., spoon and chain hubbub. Intellectually marked by persistent time signature changes and smart segueless transitions from track to track, I get less the feeling of nine shorter songs but rather one long "piece", like a symphony of groovalicious delectabilaties. Fly by Air will at the very least make you want to shake your booty if shaking your booty is the kind of thing you like to do. It is recorded in that seventies, muddy, like a rainy afternoon, but somehow the sun is still managing to come in, casting refractions through the crystal you have hung from your window, style.
Occasionally vocals, sung by hook-filled guitarist, Steve Schaaf, hide behind the muffled, low-end tones expressing sorrow, but for the most part the songs are instruments only. The bass, played by Gus Olg: tight, funky. Leb Bergerson's drumming is full yet tasteful. Tyler Evans fills out the mood and atmosphere by dripping his liquid keys all over the wood paneled track home that is Fly by Air.
August saw the end of Laserhawk as an unnamed member of the band took leave of Portland. But they leave us with a taste of the decade that brought us decadence, disco and, uhh, some other word that starts with d. Much to the dismay of the retro craze presently gripping our talented and tasteful city, Laserhawk can only be heard on CD format now. Or perhaps we will just have to wait for the re-release on quadraphonic eight track. -sh
Portland Swing
Couch on Couch
Django Reinhardt's name has been bandied about with reckless frequency of late, and why not? Burn scars and disfigurement in general is kinda sexy, he lived in Paris during the thirties, and he had a moustache that makes my upper lip jealous. His music was really saucy too. If I were Evil Kramer I'd compare it to something with tamarind, coriander, and a dash of paprika for gypsy cultural accuracy. (Now that I think about it, maybe Evil Kramer is Django Reinhardt? Nah, the cigarette smoke would dull his palate.) But I digress.
For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, gypsy jazz is a style of music pioneered almost exclusively by burn victim and guitarist Django Reinhardt and his comrade Stephan Grapelli in Paris during the 1930s. It was a take on the lively, uptempo "hot" jazz of the day colored by Eastern European harmonies and melodies.
Portland Swing plays this anachronistically chic style of music with surprising facility. They are not merely horning in on the aforementioned chic-ness and sauciness of this style of music. They are the real deal. The lead instruments match the brisk (perhaps frenetic) pace of the rhythm with solo lines that are articulate and witty.
Also matching the brisk pace is my toe, tapping steadily along. I must confess. I saw them play live on Last Thursday. They had gathered a considerable crowd around the couch that they play from and for which this record was named. After their set I begged them for a copy of the CD promising a glowing endorsement in this publication. In truth, I really wanted their CD for myself, but isn't that the best endorsement one could give? -cd
The Kitchen Syncopators
Pepper In My Shoe
2003, self released
www.kitchensyncopators.com
Somewhere, years ago, in a blues drenched Louisiana swamp, there was a little tree frog playing banjo and singing "It's not easy being green". All his swamp creature friends gathered and joined him, instruments in hand, each taking turns bemoaning the difficulties of being whatever color he or she happens to be. To most, this impromptu jam sounded like swamp noise. Croak, croak, chirp, chirp, that sort of thing. The Kitchen Syncopators actually listened and they listened well. Then they hopped the train to the nearest town with a studio and recorded Pepper In My Shoe.
It is a gumbo mash of styles, mixing blues, old time, and a little vaudeville, the Syncopators have created a sometimes fun, sometimes melancholy record. In this town of so many traditional music inspired bands it is hard to distinguish great from the merely really, really good. I have yet to experience one that just kinda sucks. The Kitchen Syncopators don't afford me the opportunity to give them that distinction. It's not flashy like bluegrass, not footstompy like old-time music, not gravelly like the blues, it is more like some good friends making good music in front of a microphone. If those aforementioned styles are your bag then Pepper In My Shoe probably won't blow you away but I don't think it will disappoint you either. -sh
Scarth Locke
Thunkadelicate
2003, CreatioNation
www.scarthlocke.com
Things we know for certain: Scarth Locke is a multi-instrumentalist songwriter. Thunkadelicate was recorded on a Mac Powerbook G3 laptop with Scarth playing the vast majority of the parts. There are sometimes drum machines and sometimes actual drums (played by Chris Azorr) There are, as would seem necessary for an album largely performed by one person, many many overdubs and sound effect snippets. It comes in a pretty cardboard jewel case.
Things which are clear and which I am not afraid to assert as facts: Scarth is a good guitar player and bass player. Scarth listens to a fair bit of jazz. Scarth has a technically good voice; accurate and supple, and he sings with much soul in an R&B sort of way. Given that it was recorded on a Powerbook, the production value is surprisingly good. Thunkadelicate’s songs are all over the musical map stylistically. It opens with a lopsided, jolty, thumpy song about riding a bronco. There is a gruff, stompy song that would fit in on a Tom Waits album. There are a couple of slow ballads, a waltz included. What glues it together is an overall angularity, an overall funkiness, and a warmth that I can only ascribe to—ok, I don’t know what to ascribe it to.
Things I’m taking a risk by saying and asserting my opinion: Scarth would fit right in opening for John Mayer or Ben Harper. Small Step is an excellent song that I’d listen to on a happy day walking downtown w/ headphones. It seems that perhaps recording on your own into a laptop it can be easy to get carried away with the overdubs. When faced with all these options in recording and arrangement, it’s often difficult to decide what to include. It appears he’s tried to include everything. There were times when the music would change and he’d introduce a new instrument or sound and just as my ears were adjusting to it and trying to listen to it, it would be gone and another would take its place. Not to harp, but it’s the aural equivalent of reading an article with every sentence in a different font. Overall, though, it’s some high-quality music. -cd
Binary Dolls
Seesaw Sunday Nights
2003, Perilymph
www.perilymph.org/binarydolls/index.htm
Using organ, keyboard, samples, trumpet, drums, drum machine, guitar, and other various noise-makers, Binary Dolls have put together a quirky but catchy record which demands attention. Lead singer and songwriter Nick Jaina has a slightly out-of-tune but emotive voice that, over time, becomes as important as the bite in a cup of black coffee. It is an acquired taste, and reminds me of the singing on The Sea and Cake. Nowhere on the album is this more apparent than on the first track, A Submarine Powered By Human Hands. Though the vocals are crisp and bright, there is a bit of a glare.
If you can flip down the visor, put on some sunglasses and coast into the next song, though, each track becomes more and more palatable. In no time at all Nick's voice becomes another integral part to the very smart arrangement of SSN. Perhaps the best example is Bomb Shelter in Leningrad/Omaha. Here you have 2 songs in one, a flawless transition, and a surprisingly powerful but sparse collection of guitar noise.
The power of this album is in the intention. Binary Dolls don't use any of the old tricks in delivering a powerful performance. The melodies, arrangements and lyrical content are what draw you in. It's a quiet album, but somehow feels loud. -da
Sirens Echo
self-titled ep
Young, smart and sassy, Toni Hill from Hungry Mob and Syndel Britt from Oldominion have teamed up to bring hip-hop home. The production changes from song to song, creepy to jazzy to funky to… Spanish? But the overriding theme of this EP is tragedy, self-destruction and social degradation. Far from cynical, though, the message is clear: Pick yourself up from abuse, whether inflicted by your own hand or another's.
The two styles these women display are miles apart, one sounding like a hip-hop Billie Holliday, the other more like Chuck D's little sister, but when they sing together it feels like sunshine. The album moves very slowly and contemplatively. Even though half the songs are upbeat, there's something very moody that tempers the entire production When you pick up this record, be more prepared to sway to the cello samples than bounce to the beats. I don't mean to say the "party" songs are insignificant, but they hardly measure up to the passion pulled up from the toes of these two emcees on their slower tracks. With only seven tracks in all, though, don't be surprised if you're leaning over your stereo like, "Already?" -ib