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| Saturday
Looks Good To ME
Every
Night
Polyvinyl
A2P
rating: 4.5
Attempting
to orchestrate another album of summery, innocuous tunes while shedding
the brooding overtones of their previous records, Fred Thomas and
the rest of Saturday Looks Good To Me emerge with their most thought-out
record yet. Every Night divests a bit of the bands’ haunting,
“minor key” vibe and replaces it with a bit of Ronettes
meets Yum-Yum—without losing The Beach Boys feel. For this
project the Ann Arbor group returned to Brown Rice studio in Detroit
to work with Warn Defever.
“Basically,
the only thing we wanted to accomplish with this record was to make
twelve songs that would fit perfectly into Saturn or Mitsubishi
car commercials,” Thomas said jokingly when I interviewed
him a few months ago for this publication. “That’s the
vibe.” Except he wasn’t joking. These are twelve blithe
and amiable tunes. At times, the mirthful tones come off close to
comical—the album’s disposition seems lighthearted,
yet Thomas’ subject matter can be as despondent as ever.
Take the lyrics
of “The Girl’s Distracted”: “You’re
taking looks at her over your shoulder, she doesn’t even notice/She
can’t concentrate, she can’t focus, your situation’s
hopeless.” Thomas sprays such playfully pained words over
impish guitars and eye-rollingly gleeful synth. “Empty Room”
opens up with a Jr. Walker-sounding guitar line accompanied by mimicking
synth and rollicking tambourine. When the vocals come in, they play
along. “Scream your complaints/Slam the doors and break all
of the plates/But you give more away/Than you could ever steal/You
feel erased/I can tell by the look on your face/You don’t
have to say a word/I know just how you feel.”
On a happier
note, the album’s opener, “Since You Stole My Heart,”
is a swaying amble through the feeling of love. Structure, which
Thomas has struggled with on previous studio projects, seems to
be one of the album’s strengths. Overall, this is an excellent
notch in the band’s belt. Just don’t let them fool you.
The album might come off as lighthearted, but there are still the
afflictive pieces requisite for an SLGTM album. Honestly, though,
with melodies as buoyant as these, heartache doesn’t seem
like such a bad thing after all. —Ray Wagel
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| The
Paybacks
Harder
and Harder
Get Hip
Records
A2P rating:
3.0
One of my first
thoughts during the initial spin of the new Paybacks album, Harder
& Harder, was, “Damn, Wendy Case’s voice has gotten
even rougher.” Two years have passed since their first album
Knock Loud hit, with its mix of Detroit rock and raunch wrapped
in hooks worthy of Cheap Trick. Two years of cigarettes and whiskey
have no doubt enhanced the texture of Case’s vocal timbre.
In the meantime, guitarist Danny Methric came in from the Muggs
to replace departing Marco Delicato, with Hentchmen Mike Latulippe
and John Szymanski still along to propel the ride forward. Harder
and Harder is a different concoction than Knock Loud; the overall
album experience is not quite as good, yet there are several killer
songs on here such as “Bright Side,” “Today and
Everyday,” and “Celebrate Summer”, even if no
single track quite reaches the apex that “If I Fell”
and “Don’t Lay It On Me” hit. The album has a
markedly different flow; while their previous album was front- and
rear-loaded with the hits, Harder and Harder spreads the better
songs throughout the disc. A couple of the songs seem little more
than empty riffage. The different lineup alters some of the sensibility.
Methric’s Muggs/power-trio vibe works its way into the mix,
especially with the trippy intro to “Jumpy.” Latulippe
and Szymanski excel here just as much as they did on the first record,
with the powerful drumming, great basslines and fills. The album
ends with the fantastic “Celebrate Summer,” which vaults
between three-chord garage punk and the heavier riffage heard of
the rest of the disc. Knock Loud is a hell of an album to follow;
the Paybacks aren’t able to quite match its achievements,
but very few bands out there today could. Still, Harder and Harder
is more than enough to add to their legacy and recruit some more
fans along the way.—Jeremy Salmon
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Dabenport
Self-titled
Fall Theory
A2P rating: 5.0
Residing in
the raveled catacombs somewhere between country, slowcore, and dreampop
is a brilliant genre-defying band. Ypsi-based Dabenport claims to
“make simple country songs, and that’s all.” At
the same time they have a hard time shaking off their ineluctable
past as shoe-gazing rockers. But that isn’t such a bad thing.
The band’s dreamescent soundscape of welded American roots
music was once called “Hank Williams meets Mazzy Star,”
a description that stuck for a reason. The band (Aaron Dresner,
vocals, guitar; Aleise Barnett, vocals, tambourine; Vince Swain,
lap steel, guitar; Jeff Navarre, bass; Robbie Linkner, drums) impels
themselves by fusing their AM-radio country sensibility with space
rock, creating something unlike anything else. Their independent
self-titled album was recently released on Fall Theory and exemplifies
a band that can make a record that parallels their live show: both
are incredible experiences.
The record
sounds somewhere between Palace Brothers’ Days In The Wake
and the International Submarine Band’s Safe At Home and displays
the band’s ability to amalgamate sounds, ideas, genres and
concepts. The first track, “Midway Cowboy,” sets the
stage for an album’s worth of material perfect for lonesome
highway driving at 4 a.m. or a lazy day spent with the shades drawn
and a pot of coffee. The album has a natural rise-and-fall rhythm,
hitting extreme slowcore, dreamy declivities with songs like “Morning
Afters” and “Spending My Life” then ascending
with upbeat Ameri-country tracks like “Pretty Good Life”
and “Get It On.” With consummate musicianship and songwriting,
Dabenport has made an unsurpassed album. —Ray Wagel
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The
Polyphonic Spree
Together We’re Heavy
Hollywood Records
A2P rating: 4.0
A little bit
Dead, a little bit Up With People and more than slightly Moonie,
the Polyphonic Spree, an ensemble of 20-odd musicians led by Tom
DeLaughter, will somehow melt the most ancient of stalagmites in
the iciest hipster’s dark heart. Let this Texas-based choir,
given to jumping up and down and singing in unison during live performances,
take you higher. Hippy-dippy? Yup. Embarrassing? Sure. And what’s
with the robes? But the members of the Spree sound too blissed out
to care, and you should be too.
Who can say
no to the celestial voices, the whirling keyboards, the pluck of
a few harpstrings in this magical mystery album? “We Sound
Amazed” is part of the title of the opening track, and come
to think of it, they do sound amazed, in a the-comet-is-coming kind
of a way. The second track, “Hold Me Now,” is not the
only one on this [sophomore] album to employ summer-camp enthusiastic
voices in unison shouting choruses more almost-Christian and happy-slappy
than the last Neil Diamond song you heard. “Suitcase Calling”
busts out opera singing, violin, and a whining country-style steel
guitar to back DeLaughter’s lyrics (“it’s the
coolest water slide...”). And that’s OK. Other things
are less OK, such as when DeLaughter’s voice swerves from
charming to grating in the interminable “One Man Show.”
This is jam
band land; a few songs clocked in at 8-plus minutes. You won’t
be hearing this on the Eight Ball jukebox, I hazard, not even the
catchiest tracks. But even if that kind of thing usually gives you
hives, I implore you, try digging on some earnest flutes and marching-band
horns for a change. I’d like to hate these guys. I really,
really would. Nothing would give me more pleasure than a bloody
evisceration of this feel-good, cheeseball, Hot Fudge-hip album,
even if I suspect the Spree might not be entirely as serious, or
tripping as hard, as Together We’re Heavy would suggest. The
urge to attack is strong, upon reflection, but just try to want
to slam them while you’re listening to lyrics like “keep
them amazed with your mild devotion to majesty.” The hell
with irony. Love is all you need. —Laura J. Williams
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The
Hives
Tyrannosaurus Hives
Interscope
A2P rating: 4.0
Two years after
the Hives were picked up by Interscope off of the more appropriate
Epitaph Records, they have delivered Tyrannosaurus Hives, the third
full-length in the band’s eleven(!) year history. While their
breakthrough second album Veni Vidi Vicious was a great over-caffeinated
spate of garagey hyperpunk, Tyrannosaurus Hives takes a more a sprongky
New Wave approach. The album opens with “Abra Cadaver,”
with a stomping beat and a phased guitar sounding like nothing so
much as the Undertones in 1978. After burning through that song
in ninety seconds, the band immediately slams into the off-kilter
“Two-Timing Touch and Broken Bones,” a track recalling
prime-era Devo. In fact, there’s a Devo vibe on much of the
album, evident in the adoption of some old synths and drum machines.
These choices appear on “Love in Plaster” or the dynamic
“A Little More For Little You,” which alternates between
33 1/3 and 45 for chorus and verse. Even with the slightly altered
sound, plenty of the Hives’ trademark speedy punk rock is
here, such as on “No Pun Intended” or “See-Through
Head.” The entire album only runs about thirty minutes, rapid-firing
tracks at an average of hundred and fifty seconds per. The first
single, “Walk Idiot Walk,” is the longest song. Unfortunately,
the single happens to be the most unfun song on the album, much
like the first bleah single from last year’s The Wolf from
Andrew W.K.. As long as the Hives keep their tempo up, their charm
remains. Dropping down to midtempo on “Diabolic Scheme”
just doesn’t keep the smiles a-comin’. As it stands,
Tyrannosaurus Hives delivers just a little more on the Hives’
promise, able to hold any fans of the hyperpunk pop tunes of Veni...
while adding to the Hives’ arsenal of tricks. The album will
hammer from one side of your head through the other before you realize
what’s happens, but the experience leaves you smiling.—Jeremy
Salmon
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Moodgadget
Random Number
A2P rating: 3.5
This compilation
has a smooth-as-Grey Goose cool with just enough local grounding
to keep it from being slick or boring. Produced by Moodgadget (an
offshoot of Atmosphere, that electronic music/visual art/all kinds
of curious experiments collective responsible for some of the more
interesting parties and events around town), Random Number opens
with an appealing meditation on a simple melody called “Artificial
Light,” by Them & I. With some low-fi fuzz to cut the
near-preciousness, it’s one of the strongest tracks on the
album. Mi6’s “Sanctuary” also has a sweet simplicity
at its core, but the song jets off to a sexier land of suggestive
murmurs and dreamy, rocking pulses. Other highlights include “The
Things I’d Show You,” by Tractile, which bounces further
into the realm of minimal techno and dance, and Benoit Pioulard’s
“L’orage Recule” (which translates into something
about a recoiling storm) shifts into a fleeting, sighing mood suitable
for the sort of chance meeting that you just know might have lead
to the affair of a lifetime. Iggy Ignotius should win some kind
of prize for the title “Cute Little Puppy Gods.” The
track opens with that old chestnut, the answering machine message
(“Yo Iggy Ignotius, what up...”) but quickly becomes
a sophisticated, thoughtful piece that really takes you somewhere.
The entire disk will move you if you let it. For solitary listening
or as an inspiring background for a soiree, Random Number is a solid
disk and a promising initial offering from Moodgadget.—Melanie
Novak
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