|
|
|
Album Reviews
Anti Em Project 2003, self-released Certain Telephone Polaroids is a coffee shop peak into the life of, what Em Brownlowe calls, a “Homosexual Intellectual.” The Anti Em Project suggests a sense of humor that, unfortunately, fails to appear in the content of her words. Full of adolescence angst, Brownlowe’s lyrics are really honest, like a passage from a diary that she keeps only partially hidden. Not much on irony, her raw emotion spills forth like a checklist of things that happened one sad day. Which is respectable in that Trent Reznor sort of way. They are heavily influenced by her pride in her homosexuality as most songs are about having or not having a crush on another girl. On her most tender and heart wrenching song, 14, she sings: I remember being 14 / underneath the willow tree / she told me her parents hit her / whenever she cried over her dead sister. Ugh. It hurts just to write it. Then she dries the tear from your eye by singing: I was thinking how being grounded for that extra hour / sifting through vinyl records was totally, totally worth it. It is this recipe of unfiltered seriousness sifted into the predicaments of high-school life that keeps me from fully appreciating this album. But in all fairness, her words weren’t meant for me. Her compositions, though repititiously straightforward, have much potential. The music has an undeniable power but I was always in a state of wanting to hear the band kick in: drums, guitars, vocal harmonies, a bass guitar. Mel Johnson’s adept djimbe accompaniment adds relief from the monotony of a strummed dreadnaught, but a djimbe will always sound like a djimbe and an acoustic guitar will always sound like an acoustic guitar. However, her well-played guitar dynamics compliment her very powerful voice, which ranges from trilly banshee to breathy seriousness. But so much reverb and echo. Yikes! If I didn’t know any better I would think she sang all her parts in a damp tunnel. With such a set of pipes it’s a shame she hides them under so much wetness of plate reverb. Polaroids is not a masterpiece, but it is full of promise. Her DIY ethic of “live in a living room” sound is commendable but there is so much more inside the music that I wanted to hear. If The Anti Em Project records again, which I hope it does, don’t be afraid to fill up all eight tracks. A well-polished album doesn’t have to destroy your DIY credibility. There are many a small studio in the city of fledgling engineers that would be more than happy to help you round out a sound that already has a sense of direction. -sh
At Dusk 2003, Popping Open Music This album starts out with enough definition that you really think it’s going to get somewhere. Unfortunately it never seems to arrive. The band gets close a few times and there are some very interesting bits throughout, but I couldn’t seem to find a song that fully panned out to what these former High School chums seem to be trying to accomplish. There is good musicianship throughout but the recording is so clean that it provokes thoughts of a sterile operating room converted into a recording studio. The music generally never really found a deep enough groove to sell the pop-iness that the lyrics and arrangements seem to profess to. The opening track The Deep End, is likely the high point, a song almost catchy enough to get stuck in your head. I was happily surprised to find the bass as prominent as it is throughout the album, yet found myself hoping for a little more change-up to some usually monotonous, though occasionally complex riffs. It’s ok and interesting to let a tone ring out a little before cutting it off or, to add an extra note here and there guys. Both bass and guitar could benefit from this advice. On tracks like The Image the main guitar riff almost grabs you but when you realize how precise it is, any emotional response is soon lost. The music in general reminds me of a guitarist I once played with who’s greatest downfall was wanting things too perfect. I was happy to hear a few instrumental tracks as the vocals tended to get on my nerves a little and distracted me from enjoying the music. I’m a big fan of 3 part harmony and indie pop-y vocals and lyrics, but many songs reminded me of a bad musical, too many chorus’s with a speak and response echo to them and absurdly obscure or blatantly obvious word and phrasing choices. You get the feeling that the vocals are really trying to tell you something but aren’t coherent enough to motivate you to care. These guys could make a few changes and improve their sound drastically. Adding a TINY bit more garage sloppiness and trying to say a little less would be a step in the right direction. In general, get a little less serious and more musically free. Maybe add another vocalist to front the band, especially on the mic. Who knows; change the recipe in the right way and I might even become a fan. I get the feeling, like At Dusk, I’m already halfway there. -drb
Laurel Brauns 2003, Red Trail Records The first time I heard Laurel, she was recording in my friend’s “studio,” which was actually a parlor off the living room, rigged up with some mics and a pro-tools set-up. I had never heard her before, but immediately recognized the influence of Dar Williams. Well, the years go by and, hopefully, we grow and change. Laurel has just done just that. Her first album, Swimming, was good, but this release leaves the first far behind. She’s lost all traces of Ms. Williams, replacing that voice with her own. Her guitar playing has improved. Her lyrics are more interesting. She’s also employed the talent of players such as Anna Fritz on cello, Erica McGee on violin and Alison Ippolito on keys. Include recording by Larry Crane and mastering by Jeff Saltzman and you’ve got an all-star Portland production. If, in 5 years, Laurel Brauns hasn’t received critical acclaim from a number of national media outlets, I’ll be surprised. Check out the strange cover of Modest Mouse on track 9. Fortunately, Laurel’s version is much shorter and less bombastic than Isaac Brock’s. In short, hipsters with interest in folk music will love this album. Tip a cold one and listen to Periphery. Laurel would be proud. -da
Robots in Disguise 2002, self-released Metal, boys and girls. Metal for escaped circus monkeys and the trainers that miss them. And they chase you around, skanking, throwing half empty PBR cans at your already lesioned head. This four song EP is like eating too much spicy food and washing it down with some of that crank in a can they are marketing to skaters and other "extreme" sportists. Is that my fist pumping in the air? If Metallica had a sense of humor and Siouxsie Sioux for a singer than perhaps it would closely resemble the madness that is Robots in Disguise. Becca Johnson's heavy bass riffs mock the strange time changes kept impeccably by drummer, Tennessee Rocky Red. Dueling guitars go, "RRRRRrrrgggghhh! Djuh! Djuh! Djuh!" while the screams of Alex Westphal trade off with the ghostly chants of Kristin Deets. Things go in fast motion when you are with the Robots. Jolting, bolt upright marching madmen, snarling dogs and things that are anti. Ozzy would be proud and he loves you. I only wish this thing was longer. At under twelve minutes long I go hurtling, in my frenzy, towards the CD player desperately seeking the hidden track. This can't be it. Just one more. C'mon, man, you know I'm good for it. Wait! Where are you going? Go see a show? But I need some right now!! Fuck you, then!!!! Oh, it's true. I can just hit the play button again. Spend the next 11 minutes reliving the last 11 minutes. And I do. I listen to the whole moody, jaunty concoction again. Damn, I am in rock limbo. It's worse than playing a demo version of a video game that isn't coming out for another six months. Because this is rock and roll, ladies and gentlemen, that will cause aneurisms for the weak minded and ulcers in the aged. Start the van, reserve a room at the hospital and ask your neighbor for a ride because a week of convalescing may be required. Consider yourself warned. -sh
Menomena 2003, Muuuhahaha! Whether directly or no, the astounding spread of contemporary Radiohead has made its mark, most notably here, in Menomena's recording technique. Distorted, manipulated drum sounds, strange samples, the occasional affected vocal and layers upon layers of instruments, often playing different time signatures. At least, that's the first track on I am the Fun Blame Monster (anagram for “the first Menomena album”). Truth be told, those apparently aren't loops you hear. According to an article in the Mercury, they record lots of music, go back and loop small segments, use those segments to build a song, and then go back and learn the new arrangement. Let me put the Radiohead reference aside. I don't think the similarity is intentional, anyway. This might be the most creative 3 people to ever write music together. Let alone the ingenuity of their recording (done in their practice space!) and songwriting technique. The cd case is an 80 page flip-book with 5 different action sequences taking place. It's fun to hand the album to a friend and watch him discover it the same way you did; slowly at first, then faster, then again, then slower, then faster again. Then consider that they made them all by hand. Need another example of their creativity? Go to their website. As one of the best and brightest bands in Portland, they've shunned all the pomp and flash so prevalent in web design today and made one of the silliest, most entertaining websites you'll ever return to. Some highlights of the album are the sax to piano to organ build on Twenty Cell Revolt. Also the lonely guitar sound leading into Trigga Hiccup. Oh, and I must mention the catchy, beatle-esque intro to The Late Great Libido. Every time I expect them to come to a crescendo, everything slows down. In fact, as poppy and easy as this album is, it's very rarely predictable. I can't remember nodding my head to piano since I first heard the Billy Taylor Trio. Man, go get this record. -ib
Sketchy Ted 2003, Barry Todd Do not be fooled. Like I was. Like everyone else here at MLP was. Sketchy Ted is not as they appear. Their bio and press-release use words like "wiggle" and "rose colored glasses", "funky" and "hooks." The bio is printed on paper that has confetti embedded into its very fiber. Our initial perception has proven incorrect. (Misled perhaps?) While every song on this album sounds a little different, there's something subtle and dark holding it all together. Sketchy Ted is a straight forward rock/pop band whose music on this release spans many genres. (From ska, to 70s radio-rock, to a sex-soaked Lenny Kravitz-like ballad.) The real surprise and treat is their singer, Barry Todd. His voice sits somewhere between David Bowie and Lou Reed, and despite his apparent best-efforts and misleading press release, betrays a weariness and detatched resignation that makes this otherwise unremarkable seven-song EP compelling. -cd |
