Bay Area Brief Blasts 2 Featuring: Hard Left-We Are Hard Left, Will Sprott-Vortex Numbers

     Hard Left wants every-damn-one to get hyped for their debut album. I bought that hype. I was super excited to hear music played by former members of Black Tambourine, Boyracer, and Lunchbox. The mass listening public has never heard Mike Schulman, aka Papa Slumber, sing. Hard Left says they're Oi and Mod and the album cover looks like a proper Ken Loach film. What's not to theoretically love here?

     Well, after finally taking We Are Hard Left in, the best I can type is: Mike's voice doesn't disappoint. He sounds like Jason Statham with black lung. It's pretty damn glorious. The worst I can type is: This is a pretty forgettable album. The music's fine; everything is tight and respectable, especially the rhythm section. I personally don't care for (what sounds to be) polished production of a punk rock record. We Are Hard Left sounds as hi-fi as Green Day's output from Nimrod onward.

     Of the fourteen tracks, four are not much more than the band continuously singing "We are Hard Left!" These tracks and vocal exercises are in addition to the myriad of instances in which the very same refrain is repeated during those tracks with actual song structure. I'd forgive one such track, but four, for me, is gratuitous.

     I think I get what they're trying to accomplish here; "We are Hard Left!" is supposed to be a powerful rally cry wherein the "We" is not just the band, but everyone. That's all fine, but in the context of an album, one song alone could establish that. It's not as if listeners will only listen once. Most people will listen multiple times and if even one song contains the "rally cry", the message will be heard as many if not more times than if anyone listened just once to this album and heard it only ten times.

     I'm not trying to teach Hard Left any Hard Lessons. I know plenty of people will love this album mostly for what it represents; A Call To Arms, by Our Elders, no less. It's nothing new but reminders are always a blessing. I only wish they could figure out a way to aurally teach us Hard Left-ers the new secret handshake.

Listen/Buy Here

                                                                                                                             The Verdict: 2 Bedpans

     Will Sprott is (or was) San Jose's own M. Ward. I can't state with any authority whether the sort of music Will produces existed before in San Jose or if anyone else has chosen to follow his sleepy-yet-confident footsteps since he first appeared as the front man for our once-beloved Mumlers. I only know that my dumb ears never heard a San Jose musician before or since Will Sprott.

     His voice may be an amalgamation of many older folksy dudes of whom I'm not familiar, so, to me, he sounds slightly like Matt Ward; except that he rarely goes for the airy effect. His voice is mostly grounded and measured, pronouncing every syllable clearly. The true beauty of Will's vocals is in the pace with which he sings. Leisure is enjoyable to those who've had their fill of rushing and the messy confusion that often follows. Will's pacing is so sure-footed, I trust him to lead me any damn where. I have a feeling he would be content to quietly stand his ground in the face of a tornado. The tornado would respect Will's stubborn stance and be sure to avoid the modest space he's claimed. 'Open Eyeball' pretty much spells it out: "The sky is swarming with eagles and vultures, but we're happy here in the cracks of the culture. Everyone is searching for a place in the sun, but we like it in the shade."

     Since I'd like to become a Will Sprott disciple, I believe him when he sings, "Good times are here again. Broken hearts are on the mend." ('Crooked Melody'). Vortex Numbers is a fine companion for weary ears, and, more importantly, minds. Listeners, take heart that Will has everything in order. Will's refrain, "Everybody has a job. I'm going to do my job." ('Psychic Lady') should set us all at ease. All hail, Will Sprott!

 

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                                                                                                                             The Verdict: 3 Bedpans

Girl Power Brief Blasts Featuring: Weather Weapon-S/T, Mommy Long Legs-Life Rips, Try The Pie-Domestication

     Weather Weapon's debut is a strong, by-the-book, post-punk document. Nothing for me to really pick apart here. I'm glad this album exists in 2015 'cause I'm trying to dig deeper than Sleater Kinney this year. And while Weather Weapon are still very green, they're more than adequate substitution for a solid, yet somewhat predictable veteran band.

     Weather Weapon incorporate a sense of slacker boogie in most of the tunes here. It's not just Wire mimicry. I love a loose, fun band. Plenty of early Sleater Kinney and Pavement can be heard in Weather Weapon. So, yeah, if I knew how to skateboard, I'd throw this joint in my Walkman before dominating some concrete. Much like the conspiracies surrounding the HAARP facility, I hope Weather Weapon find a way to make a ton of disturbance this year.

Buy/Listen Here

                                                                                                                             The Verdict: 3 Bedpans

     Seattle's Mommy Long Legs immediately take their rightful place next to Greensboro's Daddy Issues as "2015's Most Fun Bands" and I don't foresee any others cozy-ing up next to them. Life Rips contains the words "fart", "hurl", and "spew" alongside the occasional "fuck" or "fucking". This, of course, is the essential recipe for fun. To top the word choices, it sounds as if all four members chime-in vocally during choruses. Every tune on Life Rips is a sing-along ripper.

     Fun is an aesthetic Mommy Long Legs have mastered. They chose to use a producer (Martin Selasco) who added many aurally pleasing bits to the mix in the way of keys and tambourine. They also commissioned some gnarly album art from Tim Root. I think I've written before that this mostly down-trodden world needs more fun. Here's hoping this band's legs are able to reach any damn where they please. Damn horoscopes and Greek organizations. As Andrew W.K. would say, "Party is priority No. 1"

Listen/Buy Here


                                                                                                                             The Verdict: 4 Bedpans

     One of the highest compliments I can pay any artist is, "Your (whatever) inspired me to (whatever)." Bean, with her solo effort, Try The Pie, has done just that. Maybe it affected me this way 'cause I happen to know her. I don't know her whole story or whatever, but I can't help but listen to her familiar voice on record, stare at the album cover, those daring eyes (all four), Thomas' shirt, and be inspired. What follows are verses spawned from Domestication.

                                                     
                                                      Letterless words, the

                                                      Miming of them,

                                                      The scissors and glue used

                                                      To reveal the truth

                                                      Are enough. And I'm

                                                      Thankful to those who

                                                      Try instead of being content

                                                      To standby.

                                                      Our time is shared

                                                      As we touch the stones

                                                      Of Invention and Idiocy.

     I don't know, man. Most art isn't meant to be decoded. Domestication is a personal document. Sure, the themes may be a bit universal, but how many of us know someone who asks about our sleep patterns? And as much as we've traveled, Life still nags. I want to know what keeps Bean (or any kidless person) in San Jose, of all places. I guess the statement that stands out the most to me in this album is "Don't tell me what I lose." off track one, 'Every Week'. She probably has something figured out. She's not dumb enough to stick around here for familiarity's sake. 

     For me, domestication is fine if I don't have to think about it. It shouldn't come natural to anyone. I'm afraid of what staying may mean. I'd like to have an exit strategy, but I lack motivation to manifest the abstract. Santa Clara County has proposed a mandated 30% decrease in water usage. Life nags.

Listen/Buy Here


                                                                                                                             The Verdict: 3 Bedpans

Brief Blasts 7 Featuring: Waxahatchee-Ivy Tripp, Jacco Gardner-Hypnophobia, Krill-A Distant Fist Unclenching

     I'll make a boldly stupid statement: Americana is the refuge of the maturest songwriters. There seems to be wisdom in the slyly confident vocal delivery. The music will always sound a bit ancient, otherworldly as it tends to take the deepest breaths. I believe it provides a wide avenue for poignant lyrics such as what Katie Crutchfield offers from word "go" on her latest, Ivy Tripp; "If I were foolish I would chase a feeling I long ago let fade." "You see me how I wish I were, but I'm not trying to be seen." (Breathless).

     Ivy Tripp gains a lot of charm from Crutchfield's decision to inject electronics into her compositions; every keystroke is sonically scrumptious. The end of '<' is an album highlight. It kinda turns into a controlled, chaotic guitar/drums breakdown, reminiscent of an Ornette Coleman tune.  Of course, no down-home porch music would be complete without a dog(s) reference. Katie made sure to include some barking audio as the sole 3/4-timed song, 'Summer of Love' finishes. Ivy Tripp may be a 2015 sleeper but not much is sweeter than waking up to the similar, lovely voices of either Crutchfield sister.

Listen/Buy Here



                                                                                                                             The Verdict: 3 Bedpans

     Jacco Gardner knows how to pick album titles. His first LP was playfully-titled Cabinet of Curiosities and his latest is the equally excellently-titled, Hypnophobia. Not only do his album titles (however superfluous) continue to impress, but he continues to refine his baroque-psych formula. 2015's Jacco Gardner sounds much less stilted than that of 2013.

     While Cabinet could be respected for it's key and other string arrangements, Hynophobia adds a whole lot more up-front bass action. I can bob my head to most of these tunes. I much prefer my psych with more movement, as displayed here, as opposed to fancy compositions that ultimately feel flat when played without compelling baselines. Hopefully this minor but essential tweak sticks, and, for all future releases, Jacco stays true to this new path he's chosen to explore.

     Gardner's (again, a name I just adore) skills as composer reach near genius levels on Hypnophobia. I can't wait for some inspired filmmaker to commission a score from this dude. His talent is poised to become as revered as Danny Elfman or Mark Mothersbaugh's.

Listen/Buy Here


                                                                                                                             The Verdict: 4 Bedpans

     For a band with a single-syllable name, Krill can get pretty wordy. They chose to name their second album, A Distant Fist Unclenching and the first song on this album, "Phantom", contains this choice line: "What's the proper orientation of the world to my non-self?". Of course, as these trends go, it doesn't stop there. Thankfully, it never gets overbearing.

     Krill are a tight-knit trio. They never get too crazy; never go for the aural assault approach. The most squally A Distant Fist gets is towards the very end of its longest song, "Tiger". The rest of the time, Krill employ nimble bass/drum movement accented by occasional guitar blasts or steady single-note ringing.

     I won't get into the specifics discussed on A Distant Fist. It's more fun for someone to experience this album first-hand. I'll just write that the subject matter gets plenty weird on most of these tracks; and that, along with such frail, strained vocals, is what endears Krill to their listeners.

Listen/Buy Here



                                                                                                                             The Verdict: 3 Bedpans

Brief Blasts 6 Featuring: Duck Duck Grey Duck-Here Come..., Pile-You're Better Than This, Nun-S/T

     Here Come... is the first boogy-woogy soul/blues album I get to review this year! And thanks to Duck Duck Grey Duck, it's more than a mere precursor to the eventual release of The Ballantynes' latest gem. This awesome groove comes to us courtesy of three dudes in the tiny town of Geneva, Ohio(?) Yes, that's truer than fiction. Hey, Ohio; where ya been since the 90's (GBV, NIN, Breeders)? Even if this band is trying to tell us they're Ohio's Grey Duck, I'm alright with that. Grey is actually The Truth, in most cases. So these dudes are Ohio's Truth Duck!

     Every tune on Here Come... is a head-bobbin', booty-shakin' good time. The hyper-accomplished drums, bass, and guitars compliment each other so well, there's really no need for an organ or anything else. They even incorporate a bit of psych into the mix on 'Ice Cream' and 'Odysseum'. Everything is on-point here, musically. Here Come... is such a fun listen; for me, it's a five-times-a-day album. Its charm won't be wearing on me too soon.

     I don't know if it's just the recording or if he really doesn't have much range, but Robin Girod's vocals fell kinda flat here. He can't even execute a satisfying howl at the beginning of 'Ice Cream'. But I don't believe this band is resting its hopes on vocal delivery to carry it. All three musicians are flat-out experts with their respective instruments and when a band can boast such finely-tuned chops, lackluster vocals are easily forgiven.

     Here Come...'s awesome music is as exciting to my ears as what it's album cover displays. It's hard to tell whether or not the water is running down those slides. If it is, what that dude is attempting is even more gutsy. Sometimes The Grey Duck is a ninety-foot-long slide set at a forty-five degree angle that can only be tackled by two semi-upright legs and two arms flailing.

Listen/Buy Here

                                                                                                                             The Verdict: 4 Bedpans

     Every Boston band should (heavily) pay tribute to The Pixies sometime in their career. The recently-great, Pile, have chosen the first song off their third album as that immortalized moment. 'The World Is Your Motel' is an absolutely glorious Pixies imitation. Rick Maguire talks (elongating certain vowels) and intermittently screams his way through a spastic-yet-steady tune that is basically the best of what The Pixies ever had to offer. Good on yas, Pile. It starts You're Better Than This off particularly strong. I believe it's a shining example of why people-in-the-know love Pile so damn much.

     It's sort of an industry cliche for a band's third album to be its "experimental" one. Time will tell if Pile decides to stay the new course that You're Better seems to have taken. The music is just as aggressive and cathartic in places as previous efforts, but for album three, Pile get a tinge countrified; albeit of the Southern Gothic variety. Where the first two albums were almost purely proggy, angular post-punk, what we get here is some string picking with that, a few much-more-somber-than-usual tunes, and Maguire's vocals sounding a bit like Murder By Death's Adam Turla ('Hot Breath', 'Appendicitis'). It may not quite be the Pile I've come to know and love, but it's also not any less compelling.

     So because I'm still only 12 years old and my immature mind still gets jarred when a band wants to change things up, it took me about three listens to understand and fully embrace what Pile have presented us. Most of the tunes are simply unafraid of grinding to a near stop and then picking back up again. Pile have never been a band who play simple tunes, so that doesn't change here.

     Initially, I believed that lack of melody is the sharpest turn Pile take on You're Better, but this decision shouldn't surprise nor deflate any Pile fan. We love them because they seem to treat music like a Rorschach test. It'll be what they need it to be; merely a tool to help them pinpoint the truth about a snake, a rope, a river, hieroglyphics, the small intestine...

Listen/Buy Here

                                                                                                                             The Verdict: 4 Bedpans

     Nun waste no time in removing our aural spleens with opening track, 'Immersion II', as Jenny Branagan lets loose a vocal assault unmatched by anything I heard last year* and carrying on into 2015. The scathing delivery is aided by layered, pulsating synths and the verse, "let me piss on your rich mother's lips". I respect Jenny for asking permission to carry out such a seemingly heinous act. I guess the guilt and stifling indoctrination of church culture still linger with Nun.

     There're four members of Nun and each of them play synthesizers so Nun is as hardcore synthy as any band gets. They're committed to their keys and that's a blessing. The dynamics they create are sort of low-key but extremely measured. Upon repeat listens, it's apparent that Nun are synth lab experts. They're able to stabilize what otherwise might be a volatile mixture of elements. Any member of Nun would be a considerable asset to any band looking to fill a synth void. Together, they sound like a well-oiled super group.

     Nun have cool to spare, man. Starting with even the cover art here, it's so stark yet mesmerizing to me. They also name-check some 80's cult icons in Uri Geller and David Cronenberg. Nun are the current band for dyed-in-the-wool misfits. This album should be embraced and adored by every persuasion of outsider.

Listen/Buy Here

                                                                                                                             The Verdict: 4 Bedpans

*That's right. This is technically a 2014 release in Australia and Europe but we aren't getting it here in The States 'til exactly one year since it's original drop, thanks to the ever-mighty Hozac Records.

Brief Blasts 5 Featuring: Daddy Issues-Double Loser, Diet Cig-Over Easy, The Strange Land-S/T

     Holy, hot d-d-damn! This musical article known as Double Loser (possibly a sex toy?) by Daddy Issues turns me on so much that I actually have an unnerving difficulty writing about it. These four women aren't afraid to put it out there; as if to say, "carnal cravings, ahoy!" To write it bluntly, this is music by which to masturbate.

     Three of the four tunes here are genital driven. Each is sung so sweetly and sultrily, my mind didn't need much else to complete a legitimately satisfying fantasy. I mean, "I get my baby so hard, and he's fifteen miles away"? Forget fifteen miles; Double Loser will definitely harden dudes worldwide!

     There's nothing not to love here. 'Sex On The Beach' is a goofy tune about making it with some sort of merman. 'So Hard' is about foreplay. 'Let's Go To The Mall' is about adolescents causing all sorts of mischief. 'Lethal Dose'  is about a lover that won't quit. The guitar is clean and precise. The drumming is light and tight. The bass action, particularly on 'Let's Go To The Mall' and 'Lethal Dose' is quite impressive.

     I now want to move to or at least visit Greensboro, NC. These women compare favorably to Beyonce in terms of sizzle factor. The West Coast loves y'all, Daddy Issues! Bring all your boudoir banter out here sometime!

Listen/Salivate Over/Buy Here

                                                                                                                   The Verdict: 4 Engorged Bedpans

                                                                                                                                                                   

     Diet Cig hail from New Paltz, NY, which is basically quaint Gilmore Girls country. Therefor it's mandated that Over Easy's cover art be hand-sewn and Alex Luciano sound like an eager 7 year-old when she sings.

     It's all very twee until we hear the words "Blow your nose. Take a shit." ('Pool Boyz'), "Fuck all your romance." ('Scene Sick'), "I hate everybody here." ('Cardboard'), and "Fuck your ivy league sweater." ('Harvard'). Alex even apologizes for New Paltz's shortcomings.

     So the lyrics suggest not-so-twee but these are juxtaposed to the cover art. I guess it all adds up to "Fuck your labels, you fucking lazy journalist assholes". The album is called "Over Easy" but there's much "Hard Boiled" here to consider. I mean, the center of that embroidered egg creation that graces the cover could easily be seen as a sphincter...

     Alex is a talented vocalist despite sounding much younger than I'm sure she is. Over Easy's music is very straight forward and any average singer would pair it with m.o.r. melodies. but her vocals navigate familiar terrain in clever, unexpected ways.

     Hey, Everybody; Alex is a little lonely in her new apartment. There's an open invitation to watch The Simpsons with her on the floor. If she ventures out from said apartment, she'd like to go swimming and maybe dance a bit. If anyone is fortunate enough to visit her, she asks that they please refrain from talking "about your band". Simple enough? Why would anyone want to skip out on such an easy-going girl for a nightmare like Harvard?

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                                                                                                                             The Verdict: 3 Bedpans

     The Strange Land are here to sack, pillage, and ride off into the night with our unfounded sense of security. Our residences and head spaces aren't as familiar as we've been lead to believe. The Strange Land are here to give us a glimpse of reality. It's never clear-cut, y'all. The postmen deliver our mail only during the day. Who knows what those savages may indulge in after hours? Though our psyches have been shaken by this new menace of unspoiled territory, The Strange Land would also like for us to remember that our trips are set to a steady beat to which the bravest of us can surely dance.

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                                                                                                                             The Verdict: 3 Bedpans                                                                       

Shoegaze Brief Blasts: Featuring Swervedriver-I Wasn't Born To Lose You, Echodrone-Five

     It's a small miracle that Swervedriver's fifth album was ever recorded yet alone released in 2015. They weren't appreciated during their heyday and I Wasn't Born To Lose You will only be anticipated and celebrated by hardcore shoegaze geeks. All of us shoegaze geeks should really take the time consider Adam Franklin and how he's never quit on his passion. If Swervedriver was on hiatus, he continued to record and tour with, something like, three other projects. The You in this album's title may as well be Music or just Ambition. I, for one, am grateful for whatever compels Adam to be so damn restless.

     Has anything changed for Swervedriver since '98? Hardly, man. The sole outlier on I Wasn't Born To Lose You is 'Red Queen Arms Race', by all accounts, not very expansive or spacey; however psychedelic it hopes to be. It sounds more like an Arctic Monkeys tune. Otherwise, album five finds Swervedriver in peak form; driving rhythms, crystal guitar leads, melodies made to comfort lovesick souls. Nothing dark or pouty here. Swervedriver harness their considerable power to uplift, not to commiserate.

     Almost nobody wants to make this type of music today. Adam Franklin and co. are some quasi damn saviors, man. Anyone who refuses to give in to Swervedriver's magic has been letting mortgage concerns or whatever slowly kill them for too long.

Buy/Listen Here

                                                                                                                          The Verdict: 3.5 Bedpans

     Echodrone formed 'round the mid 00's and I need to know why such a badass band name as this one hadn't already been taken. Is the name "Echodrone" not weird enough for most bands? Any band (I don't care what they sound like) is foolish for passing on "Echodrone". Hearty congratulations to Echodrone for snatching their name from idiots who probably wouldn't carry it proudly enough.

     If Echodrone decides to choose such a shoegaze-worthy name, their musical chops better justify that decision. They certainly know how to mix keys and bass well. The guitars mostly emit the same tone throughout, as a solid slab of nearly impenetrable fuzz. Electronics are a central focus for Echodrone. Most of the dynamics they create are led by lush, otherworldly key strokes punctuated by occasional bleeps/bloops and ever-morphing knob twists.
     Five mixes the best of Sigur Ros, Explosions in The Sky, and maybe even a tad Nine Inch Nails thrown in for good measure. 'When The Two Ends Meet' is as Failure as I've heard any band sound in quite a while. The cover art is an orange mess and why not? I want hundreds of orange autumn leaves to fall on my face while I luxuriate in Five's soundscapes.

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                                                   The Verdict: 3 Bedpans

So-Cal Brief Blasts: Featuring Dirty Dishes-Guilty, Cotillon-S/T, Prettiest Eyes-Looks

     Exploding In Sound Records is one of now many east coast labels specializing in the 90's revival sound. Well, the only things that don't scream, "90's!" about Dirty Dishes is that they happen to be a duo and feature a rather long instrumental song ('Dinner Bell').      

     Dirty Dishes are a female-lead L.A. band [90's check] who aren't afraid to push songs (5 of 9 here) past five minutes [90's check] and who drench acoustic guitar in reverb [90's check] ('Androgynous Love Song'). Their latest effort, Guilty also includes a song called 'Dan Cortez' which is,  of course pronounced exactly as 90's MTV superstar, Dan Cortese.

     Trip-hop was created in the 90's. Guilty gets a bit trip-hoppy (drums and keys) on track seven, 'Lackluster', and track nine, 'Sugar Plum Fairies'. Anybody looking for a band to fill voids left by Veruca Salt and Portishead  will find a welcome companion in Dirty Dishes. Also, here again, along with a previous 2015 release by a wholly different band, Guilty's cover art might be better than its music. I want to know precisely where that photo was taken.

Listen/Buy Here

                                                                                                                          The Verdict: 2.5 Bedpans

   
   

     Cotillon's eponymous debut album is a kind of middle-of-the-road, blue-collar pop record that a band such as, oh...I don't know...Cracker(?) or Guster(?) might make (especially 'Holding You Back'); but not for lack of experimentation.

     Producer, Chet "JR" White, bangs a woodblock on album opener, 'Gloom'. Both an organ and plenty of saxophone are employed on the next track, 'Call Me Up'. 'Asteroid' is sort of a blander take on Guided By Voices or The Fall. Poe's 'The Raven' is quoted in 'Should Have Known Better'. '

     'Infection' is a 3:40 mess. It starts off as a hammering, angular tune (Sample Lyrics: "I wonder how you could stay so cute and thin. I wonder how many guys you've infected.") and abruptly switches to airy psych, complete with acoustic strumming, at 1:16 (Sample Lyrics: "Be my dream girl. Make me blush. Let's get dressed-up and swallow some drugs. Be my dream girl, just like cocaine."). Ninety seconds later, the song switches back over to drive-mode so someone can work-out a thirty second guitar solo. 

     'Left Bank' is, by far, the best tune here. Jordan Corso can play some beautiful piano. I don't know why more of that wasn't used on this album. So 'Left Bank' features Corso on airy, clean piano and Raffi Garabedian, the saxophonist, just slightly accenting everything. It's very bright and classy. I only wish all the experiments here paid off as well as 'Left Bank'.

Listen/Buy Here

                                                                                                                          The Verdict: 2.5 Bedpans

     If anyone's running low on skronk, Prettiest Eyes' Looks is as stocked-up as Wal-Mart is with cheap cola. 'Looks' showcases skronk. It seems to be the main ingredient in every tune save 'Not OK', which was probably named as such because they excised the skronk from it.

     I'll give Looks credit for a rad cover of The Pretty Things' 'LSD' and a dynamic collaboration with AJ Davila (Davila 666) and Kiani Medina on 'El Huelebicho', which not only boasts some nimble instrumentation but beautifully sung palabras solamente en Espanol tambien. It doesn't get more L.A. than Spanish lyrics. Every L.A. band should find some way to incorporate Latin culture into their music. Prettiest Eyes do right by their home-base.

     Prettiest Eyes sound like they're having lots of fun as they simply bash and skronk their way to the finish line. 'Into Oblivion' is also a quirky, paranoid highlight.

Buy/Listen Here

                                                                                                                          The Verdict: 2.5 Bedpans