http://vimeo.com/12548416

Autolux
Transit Transit
TBD

Hi, I’m Meathead. A bunch of days ago, Travis asked me to write a review of the new Autolux record. That guy Jameson originally wanted to review it, but Travis told me he didn’t want him to do it because “he’s a fucking [offensive slang term for homosexual] and I don’t want him [homosexual]ing up Buddyhead with his fanboy shit,” and also not to tell Jameson he said that. Personally, I think Jameson is an all right guy (his insistence on playing Depeche Mode songs every five minutes notwithstanding), but whatever. I don’t make the managerial decisions around here. I would have posted this review closer to when the record was actually released a few weeks ago, but then I remembered that this is Buddyhead and that would probably confuse everybody, so I waited a little bit.

I’ll admit that I wasn’t all that familiar with Autolux up to this point. I knew they did a couple songs with UNKLE, their name sounds like a vacuum cleaner (never a good idea if your band also happens to suck), and they opened for Nine Inch Nails for some of their shows a few years ago, but that’s about it. I wasn’t at any of those shows, but an acquaintance of mine, whose opinion I tend to hold in slightly higher regard than those of the average person I’m forced to socially interact with from day to day, told me they weren’t too bad, at least in comparison to the other horseshit bands Trent Reznor usually brings along on tours. So I made a mental note to check them out at some point, but you know how that goes. You have every intention to check out some new band and then other shit comes up, you wind up crab fishing in the Aleutian Islands for five months, and next thing you know, you’ve completely forgotten about it. Such is life.

Fast forward to 2010 with your magic time VCR. I was flipping through a copy of the LA Weekly, trying to find out what ’80s hair metal show Travis would be DJing that particular week when I saw, crammed between the obligatory erotic phone sex and/or medical marijuana dispensary advertisements, an article on Autolux’s apparently-long-awaited follow-up to whatever their last album was called. I didn’t actually read the article, because it looked boring and reading is stupid, but it did remind me to check out that vacuum cleaner band that guy had told me about before the crab fishing expedition.

I’d heard that Autolux’s singer, Eugene Goreshter, sings in a higher register and that some might call his singing “effeminate.” No big deal, I thought. Lots of bands have guy singers that sound girly. You know, like Jane’s Addiction, Porno for Pyros and Satellite Party, just to name a few. All this despite the fact that there actually is a woman in the band, but I guess she was just too butch so they stuck her behind the drums.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Moments after originally posting this review, I realized that the drummer (who actually is biologically female) also sings in the band. Well, if you want someone who’s not an Autolux fanboy to write this review, this is what you get. Deal with it. Wait, what the hell, the other guy sings too?! You know what, fuck this band. I’m going to go get drunk and listen to Johnny Cash.

This in itself is a relatively minor gripe, as long as you close your eyes, imagine Eugene is a beautiful woman, and try really hard not to think of The Crying Game. It’s not that difficult, I used to do it back in the ’90s whenever that one Blind Melon song came on the radio. That’s why Jesus gave us the power of imagination. All this would be fine if Eugene didn’t also sound like (s)he had also just gulped a Rohypnol milkshake twenty minutes ago. Why would (s)he intentionally sing like that? What kind of message is this sending? That it’s okay to sing like a future date rape victim? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m certainly not implying that Autolux endorses date rape. In fact, I’d bet five dollars that none of the members of Autolux have ever date raped anyone, at least not within the last ten years. Believe me, the last thing I’d want to do is have people mentally associate Autolux with date rape, or worse, call Autolux “that date rape band.” That would be completely inappropriate, so please don’t do that. You know, I should probably just change the subject. (For the record, though, I am pretty much 100% anti-date rape. Just like Autolux probably is.)

Mercifully, the music isn’t all that bad, so that’ll bump this thing up a couple notches on the ol’ Axl-O-Meter. Sure, some of it is boring as piss, but I can genuinely say there were a number of times where I thought, “If this singer would just grow a pair, or at least go chug some coffee, this could actually be kinda good.” Frankly, I don’t see any reason why Transit Transit couldn’t have been edited down to a sweet instrumental EP called Tra.

If the Official Buddyhead W. Axl Rose Rating System had a rating between “decent” and “mediocre,” I would have probably gone with that, but since there isn’t, I’ll be nice today and give Little Miss Girly Girlpants a…

We Are Hex
Hail to the Goer
Hex Haus / Roaring Colonel

So I’ve been absorbing Autolux’s new album for months now and I was told because I’m too much of a fanboy, because I’d come up with lewd fantasies involving Carla Azar’s titanium swinging arm, because I’d probably go gay for anybody from Failure, and because Eugene and I WILL be bff’s as soon as he emails me, that if I wrote a review for Transit Transit it wouldn’t get posted.  Well that is fair.  I decided to write about the next best new release: We Are Hex’s Hail the Goer.

I guess since this band is from Indiana they haven’t been starfucking enough to get press from every culture blog and magazine from LA to London (btw Headless Sky has the perfect rhythm 4 typg wit 1 hnd).  But I definitely saw them on my birthday in Kansas City in May of ‘09 and they were super duper.

In 2007 the founding members Brandon Beaver and Jilly Weiss setup their own studio, spent a year writing and recording, finished filling their live lineup with Trevor Wathen and Matt Hagan, and have been supporting their first release, Gloom Bloom, on their own label Hex Haus since April 2009.

I’m not going to indulge in poetic descriptions of their music because not only am I posting links but you can download the first album for free (which you should do even if just to hear Easy Vision), I’ll stick to colloquialisms: If y’all in the Midwest wanna hear a hardworkin’ indie band, and I mean “indie” of the D.I.Y. sense, then see this band and buy their new album for $6 on bandcamp.

http://www.myspace.com/wearehex
http://hexhaus.blogspot.com
http://www.wearehex.com
http://wearehex.bandcamp.com

We Are Hex flickr set from May 2009

Aug 26 2010    Rock Lobster Indianapolis, IN
Sep 23 2010    Now That’s Class Cleveland, OH
Sep 24 2010    Melody Inn Indianapolis, IN
Oct 7 2010       TBA Madison, WI
Oct 8 2010      Sound Gallery Studio Minneapolis, MN
Oct 9 2010      TBA ST. PAUL, MN
Oct 16 2010     Broad Ripple Music Festival Indianapolis, IN
Oct 29 2010    The Comet Cincinnati, OH
Oct 30 2010    Vollrath Tavern Indianapolis, IN
Nov 5 2010      TBA w/ trophy wives, ifihadahifi, call me lightning Milwaukee, WI
Nov 6 2010     Quenchers Chicago, Il
Nov 13 2010    Melody Inn Indianapolis, In

Dax Riggs
“Say Goodnight to the World”
Fat Possum

Let’s get this outta way, not only is Axl Rose (in our rating system) gonna be stoked on this record but I can’t stop listening to this mother fucker. This CD hasn’t left my stereo since I got it in the mail and randomly listened to it one hot as fuck summer day. Like a cool drink of ice water, Dax Riggs did what every songwriter wants to do… he connected with me. He hit that spot. He got in there. He told me things that I didn’t know, he made me laugh, he reassured me that everything was going to be ok, he made me head-bang, he made me remember moments in my life I hadn’t thought of in years, he got me excited about the bright future ahead I am creating for myself and best of all… he got his songs that he wrote stuck in my little brain.

I love this record.

So now comes the part that every “music journalist” hates, here’s where I admit that not only do I not know much about this band (or this dude) but I’ve never even fucking heard of him. And he didn’t just pop outta the shadows like I originally thought. Nope, I’ve totally been missing a gem in the rough that is the current flow of musical output. But then again, not having heard anything else this band has created, I have no idea if the earlier shit is any good or not. I could have not missed anything. I’m sure the people will speak in the comments and let me know what’s-what.’

Here’s a history lesson according to Dax Rigg’s wikiapedia page (which is about as reliable as Axl Rose making it to a concert on time):

“Dax David Riggs (born 15 October 1973 in Evansville, Indiana, United States), is an American musician from Houma, Louisiana, most well-known for formally fronting the sludge band Acid Bath in the 1990s. Dax has been a part of many projects since then, including Agents of Oblivion and Deadboy & the Elephantmen. In 2007 he began releasing material under his own name. He currently resides in Austin, Texas.”
# We Sing of Only Blood or Love (2007)
# If This Is Hell, Then I’m Lucky (2008)

So yeah, “Say Goodnight To The World” is his THIRD record (I will not only be checking out the other two Dax Rigg LPs but the records by his other projects: Agents of Oblivion, Deadboy and the Elephant Men) and it’ll be for sale on August 3rd via Fat Possum Records and is currently available for pre-order on the label’s website.

Hey dudes at Fat Possum… might as well hire me after this and all the AA Bondy hand jobbies I’ve been give you. Show me that you love me like the tender baby that I am and send me this album on vinyl. In fact make it a huge box of LPs, pack every rad record on your label in a box and mail it to our PO BOX:

BUDDYHEAD PO BOX 1268 Hollywood,CA 90078.

Yeah, back to me…. Now that I’m no longer riding the rock bottom wave of couch-surfing (which I did for two years and gave away, sold, lost or traded pretty much everything I owned – LPs were the first to go), I’m domesticated (Vanessa would prolly use a different word but either way I’ve come a long ways) and living with my girlfriend/best friend that I’m completely in love with in a wonderful place that I finally feel like I can call home (meaning I know I’m not moving anytime soon, which is a relief seeing as how I’ve had over 20 addresses during my thirteen plus years in this heavy heavy city of angels), I’ve gotten back into vinyl. It’s hard to collect vinyl when you’re sleeping on your friends couch. In fact, it’s impossible.

First of all, the 36 year old Riggs can sing. Really sing.  Like an fucking bird. I’d like to hear him join Crosby & Stills for a tour called Crosby, Stills & Dax Riggs. Fuck Graham Nash. Not only was he British but he rarely played guitar (there’s no way to look cool just standing there singing slow CSN songs, unless you’re Crosby and you’re gacked the fuck out of your head) and his songs were the weakest. Anyways, Dax Riggs can fucking sing is my point. Dude’s voice reminds me of something outta Seattle in the 90’s. Ahhh… the 1990’s, weren’t they the greatest?

This record is all over the place but it all stems from the blues. Every song has a completely different vibe, mood and batch of influences that are fused together to create an unapologetically weird, yet memorable rock album. An intense, sultry, mellow and dirty as fuck album. Compiled of 10 tracks, over 35 minutes, this is nothing but 100% Dax. It’s the real deal.

The title track has hints of Sabbath, “Gravedirt On My Blue Suede Shoes” is a catchy fuckin’ rocker, as is “No One Will Be A Stranger”. “Like Moonlight” & “You Were Born to Be My Gallows” are burnt-out ballads where he actually “croons” and don’t forget his damn good Elvis cover with “Heartbreak Hotel”. But Rigg’s love-song “Let Me Be Your Cigarette” is most likely my favorite track on this album. Although picking a favorite song on here is like people who have kids picking a favorite dream-killer. Or maybe parents do pick favorites and it ain’t no thang… hmmm… I dunno.

Point of all this rambling is that you should buy this record and go see him live.

Dax Riggs – “Let Me Be Your Cigarette”

Dax Riggs – “Gravedirt On My Blue Suede Shoes”

Dax Riggs – “Say Goodnight To The World”

And yes, Axl thinks it’s KILLER too!

TOURDATES:

Aug 20 2010      8:00P THE EMPTY BOTTLE     Chicago, IL
Aug 21 2010     8:00P The Old Rock House     St. Louis, Missouri
Sep 8 2010     8:00P Casbah     San Diego, Ca
Sep 9 2010     8:00P Spaceland     Los Angeles, CA
Sep 10 2010     8:00P Spaceland     Los Angeles, CA
Sep 11 2010     8:00P Cafe Du Nord     San Francisco, CA
Sep 14 2010     8:00P DANTE’S     PORTLAND, OR
Sep 15 2010     8:00P Sunset Tavern     Seattle, WA
Sep 18 2010     8:00P 7th St Entry     Minneapolis, Minnesota
Sep 19 2010     8:00P The Frequency     Madison, WI
Sep 21 2010     8:00P Vaudeville Mews     Des Moines, Iowa
Sep 22 2010     8:00P Mojo’s     Columbia, MO
Sep 23 2010     8:00P PROUD LARRY’S     Oxford, Mississipp
Sep 24 2010     8:00P Hal & Mal’s     Jackson, MS
Sep 25 2010     9:00P Thirsty Hippo     Hattiesburg, MS

Busses
“Busses”
Self Released

My immediate, kneejerk reaction to learning I would review a band called “Busses”? “Oh good, another ’superfluous letter’ band ( see Wavves, Mayyors etc.)” continuing the chilling, band name misspelling parallel between early ’10s indie rock and early 00’s rap metal”.  Then I reconsidered; how DOES one spell the plural of “bus”?  Turns out it could be “buses” or, the less common but also correct, “busses”.  I’ll give this band the benefit of the doubt and hope that’s how it’s spelled in their hometown of Philadelphia.

Anyways, on to the album.  Busses eponymous debut establishes one thing clearly: this band has its own sound.  Nothing genre defying or overly exciting, but Busses sound like a band led by their own idiosyncrasies as opposed to a band guided by the prevailing sensibilities of current indie rock.  These dudes definitely have a love both for the off kilter, pseudo-lead guitar playing found on many late 90’s DC records and some of the headier sounds found in general-American classic rock. Singer/Guitarist Dave Brett’s lines recall a recontextualized, Burning Airlines era J. Robbins.  I might be alone on this but the intro to the opening jam “Foundation Myth” reminds me of a psychedelic remake of the BA song “The Surgeon’s House” off Identikit. This is a compliment. Throughout the record, Brett takes a “sonic maximalist” approach, filling up as much of the sound as he can with jagged guitar.  At times this approach feels heavy handed, but with so many players out there bland-ing us to death due to a misguided belief in the imperative of “subtlety”, it pleases me to hear a guy try and fail at times than not really try much at all.  Busses rhythm section also scores some points by keeping things tight and moving forward, except when the band sinks into a bit of self-indulgence.

That brings me to the first of my two main gripes with this record.  Busses has an E.P. length track list but an L.P. length playing time. This albums boasts some really cool moments,  but not a lot of really great songs.  Each track hooked me, at least fleetingly, but more often that I would have liked, Busses lost me due to a lack of focus.  A few edits here and there could go a long way to making this a more coherent and enjoyable start-to-finish listen.  Gripe two: Brett’s singing.  Yep, turning on the dude after I just praised his guitar playing.  I respect that he doesn’t ape any front man I’m aware of (though, at first, I thought there might be some Perry Farell shenanigans going on, I recanted after a few songs), but somehow his delivery distracts in a negative way from the rest of the proceedings.  There’s no lack of ability here; Brett hits all the notes just fine, but the timbre of his voice, his cadence and his phrasings don’t do the overall sound any favors.  Brett’s not a total band killer, like Extra Life’s Charlie Looker (shudder), but there are more passages on Busses I wish were instrumental than not.

All of that said, I think Busses possesses the potential to make some really killer records in the future. A little more concision, a little more direction, and a little less of the kind of singing that populates the tracks on their debut will go a long way.

Australia has made another worthy contribution to cinema with the new film, Animal Kingdom, which is the first film written and directed by David Michôd, a member of the film collective Blue Tongue Films. It’s hard to find a movie to be excited about in the past few years, what with all the comic book adaptations, video game movies, endless sequels to movies that never needed to be made in the first place, and big screen versions of tv shows that you didn’t care about when you saw them for free. It’s pleasantly different to have a movie that’s actually about real people and doesn’t star the same 20 personalities who are in every studio movie that gets released. You mean to tell me that there are other actors in the world besides Michael Cera? It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?

I heard about this film shortly after the Sundance Film Festival, where it won the World Cinema Jury Prize, and watched the trailer. It gave me the chills, especially the use of what’s normally thought of as a romantic song, Air Supply’s “All Out of Love”, in the most disturbing way possible. Extra points go to the film maker for having the balls to do it and use it well.

With that, the film instantly went on my must see list. I had no idea who/what/where other than that and I intentionally kept myself innocent of the details of the story to keep the movie experience as pure as I could. Yes, I was that interested.

Animal Kingdom was released on Friday, August 13 in New York and Los Angeles in an extremely small release pattern. It’s so small that there are only two theaters in Los Angeles currently showing the film and the same number in New York City. Yes, I actually took the time to look that up. I assume that in the coming weeks the film will open in other cities, but I really don’t know how “wide” of a release it will get. It’s not a film produced by one of the big American studios and is being distributed by Sony Classics. But I would urge you strongly, if you are a fan of powerful film making, to do whatever you can to see it.

In LA, the movie is playing at the ArcLight Cinema in Hollywood and the AMC 15 in Century City and in New York, the Landmark Sunshine Theater and the Lincoln Plaza Cinemas. Even though I despise the ArcLight, with its outrageous ticket prices and “cooler than thou” vibe, I went. I will take a moment to tell you the one extremely irritating thing that happened while at the ArcLight that is relevant to this review. While waiting for the movie to start, there was some nonsense where an uninformed female usher came out to announce the film (and brag about how the excellent sound/film quality would be monitored by other usher pinheads during the film) and did so in a way that made my blood boil. She clearly had not the slightest clue what the movie was about or who was even in it. While I would expect that the general public would not know, she’s an usher at the flag ship theater of the (supposed) Rolls Royce of cinema in Los Angeles. Does management actually require the person making this rote announcement to read something about the damn film? This is what she said:

Welcome to the ArcLight Theater’s showing of the film, Animal Kingdom, starring Guy Pearce *embarrassed silence* and a bunch of other people.

Dear ArcLight Cinemas, are you fucking kidding me? Would it have killed you to print out a fact sheet for your employees so they don’t insult the film that they are screening and the hard work of all involved? How much indignity must a non-mainstream film be asked to put up with, so that even the walking voids of information known as ArcLight employees get to show their contempt through their apathetic recitations? Is this because it’s not the latest from the flavor of the month? I mean, thanks for showing it so hipsters might get confused and inadvertently wander in, but really, was this the work of a company that loves film or someone who’s putting on a front to charge premium prices? Gee, I wonder.

But back to the review: after watching the trailer, I expected certain things, but while watching the movie I was happy to note that the trailer had showed me key scenes, without giving away everything, and that I had been somewhat misdirected by it. The movie opens with a scene that was completely unexpected as it unravels. That’s what this film does which is so interesting. The scenes spill out and take their own course and throw you curve balls frequently. There are moment of high tension where nothing is specifically happening, but the threat of violence is always present. Sometimes the scene will explode with rage or laughter, but you’re never sure what it is you will be hit in the face with next. The story is structured in a way where no one is safe, no one can be trusted, and anything could happen. I was surprised by Animal Kingdom; that doesn’t happen often. This is a testimony of the skill and commitment of the writer/director and the actors. Gunshots ring out with real danger and all of the Hollywood cliches of the gangster drama are turned inside out. I can’t say this is a pleasant film, at times it’s hard to watch, but that’s because it is populated by people who suffer and die, not just cardboard cut-outs leaping through the air. When someone dies in Animal Kingdom, it matters.

Ben Mendelson plays Pope with a muddled, jokey, desperate air. When you see him stare into space, you see that there is something profoundly wrong with this sad eyed man. Jacki Weaver as Grandma Smurf is a chipper yet truly evil woman; who treats her sons as her personal army, her money making thugs, and maintains her control of them with her own egotistical and inappropriate brand of motherly affection. James Frechette, in his first film role, as the newcomer J or Joshua, who seems like a mouth breathing lunkhead with no emotions, but has more to him than you would expect. Joel Edgerton as Barry is the most clearheaded and well adjusted brother who still takes no shit but contains his violence to his work. Sullivan Stapleton as Craig is a drug addled, tattooed, paranoid mess of a fighting man. Luke Ford as Darren is a distressed and browbeaten lowest ranking member of the gang who is kicked and mocked accordingly. Guy Pearce, in a supporting role, plays a family man of a detective, Sgt. Leckie, who tries to do the right thing in a hurricane of corruption, but has lost enough of his faith to shameless manipulate others whenever he has to, but still is the only half decent role model for J. The performances of the entire cast, right down to the smallest bit part, are believable and real.

In this film, nothing is wasted. It’s lean and spare and doesn’t have time for mindless flash. Some people grasp at decency and a normal life, but hardly anyone is clean, not even the pretty girlfriend of J who seems to wear a halo even while sleeping. Some of them don’t even understand what decency is and seem content to burrow deeper into darkness because for them, there is nothing else. The cops are some of the worst excuses for humanity of everyone involved, as is frequently the case in real life. The film alternately changes from dark elegant indoor menace to an oddly sterile blast of light and color when outdoors. Some of the scenes are framed as set pieces that are as beautiful as paintings. The music choices are uniformly well done and non intrusive but meaningful.

If you are sick of mainstream movies with no substance, tired plots, and routine gimmickry, now’s the time to vote with your wallet. Support independent cinema by seeing the movie that isn’t easy to watch but will give you something back for your time.

Update: Animal Kingdom is now the movie with the highest per screen average in the United States, with only four theaters showing the film, grossed $52,500 dollars, averaging $13,125.00 per screen according to Indie Wire compared with the thousands of screens that movies like The Expendables, Eat Pray Love and Scott Pilgrim Vs The World had this weekend. It’s mighty for a film with virtually no theaters and no advertising.
Well done.

And yes, here’s the Axl rating, because yes, Axl watches movies too.

Buckcherry
“All Night Long”
Eleven Seven Music/Atlantic

From the late 90s, and leading into the early 2000’s, we were learning to avoid watching Music TV.  Rock music wasn’t well represented in mainstream media and if one wasn’t a fan of bands coming from the hard rock linage of AC/DC, Guns N Roses or Alice in Chains, which were the staples of Rock music on the radio and cable television, there wasn’t much for you.

With that said Buckcherry’s new album “All Night Long” is fucking lame.  There is nothing “new” about it.  The band seems comfortable being a marginal novelty commodity act and a summation of every band decorating the Hard Rock Cafe’s walls, contributing nothing to their craft other than retailing meager profits for a major label, (though to be fair they released this album on their own independent label, Eleven Seven Music.  That is a smart move.  Hopefully they’ve learned not to leak their material again and blame “pirates” for “stealing.”)  One big clue before listening to this band is the lead singer, Josh Todd (who’s solo record was also independent on the “world-famous” Josh Todd Records), looking like the ass-baby of Scott Weiland and Steven Tyler.  In fact, Slash worked with Todd while developing the Velvet Revolver project, probably while holding out for Steven Tyler to become available (should have waited a few more years there Slash!) and ultimately dropped Todd for Weiland.  Ouch. By the way, according to the Urban Dictionary a “Todd” is: “Male displaying generic “frat-guy” behavior traits.” Weird.

Oh the power of green screen.  Their show looks sold out!  I wonder if they animated the topless sixteen year old jailbait or if that is real footage?

“For the Movies” (starring Tara Reid) Music Video:

“Lit Up” Music Video

Swans
“My Father Will Guide Me Up A Rope To The Sky”
Young God Records

Recently Swans’ Michael Gira has written that the current incarnation of Swans is “NOT A REUNION.  It’s not some dumb-ass nostalgia act.  It is not repeating the past…”.  I’ll take Mr. Gira at his word and review this album as if “Swans” is an entirely new band that just happens to feature key members of a defunct band that also happened to be called “Swans”.   If you want to know more about that other “Swans”, it’s called Google (or Bing, if you like the underdog).  As for this currently active band called Swans:

If I were to pick a single word to describe My Father Will Guide Me Up A Rope To The Sky, it would be  “Grizzled”. Way, way fucking grizzled.  Think of a recently released P.O.W. or a woman who has been muling for a Mexican cartel for over a decade.     From the mercilessly unflattering press photos of the players involved included in the packaging, to the deep, bellowing voice of front man Michael Gira, this is a group of seasoned players who look/sound like they have lived.  By “lived” I don’t mean just breathing, eating, shitting and sleeping: I mean getting the shit kicked out of you repeatedly by an uncaring world and converting all the heartbreaks and disappointments into the fuel for inspiration and ambition.   Swans have lived and My Father… provides a document of that life experience that rings from the speakers with an undeniable authenticity.  Impressive for a new band that has only been together since the beginning of this year.

The 9-minute opener “No Words/No Thoughts” provides something of an overview of what Swans are up to on My Father… The proceedings begin with percussion that resembles funeral bells, sounding like the troubled cousin of the clock chiming that begins Pink Floyd’s “Time”.  After 40 seconds of hypnotizing bells, the song begins in earnest with Swans launching into a dark, heavy dirge.  Don’t think metal though, because that’s not what this is.  The best aspect of this song, and by extension the best aspect of this album, lies in the ability of the band to create dark, doomy drones that pile on the tension but, somehow, still radiate a sense of hopefulness.  At no time does “No Words…” sound like a happy jam, but Gira and his cohorts seem to recognize that portraying complex and sometimes contradictory emotions will reap richer rewards than monotonic displays of anger and spitefulness. By the time Gira’s voice enters the fray over four minutes into the song, Swans have already destabilized expectations to the extent that each new section of the song becomes a welcome surprise.  The final movement of this song in particular, which unifies the bells that open the piece and the main groove that propels us through much of its length, provides more listening enjoyment that pretty much any other song/album so far this year.

“Reeling the Liars In” offers an immediate departure from the foreboding atmosphere and lengthy run time of “No Words…”,  replacing it with a sort of Western/folk vibe executed in a more concise fashion.  It appears to be a song about burning liars on a campfire.  I’ll bring the marshmallows.  Gira’s delivery on this one is a little heavy on the drawly affectation for my taste, but repeated listens  might smooth that out.   Any reservations I had were immediately erased when “Jim”, my personal favorite track on this bad boy, started to play.  Keeping a hint of the Western atmosphere of its predecessor but revisiting the more epic and haunting approach of the opening track, “Jim” exemplifies pretty much everything I like about this new band called Swans.   The song even swerves into gospel music territory, sporting big, chanting vocals that pretty much mandate a sing along.

The winner for best named track, “You Fucking People Make Me Sick” is also hands down the most ambitious song on My Father… Beginning with a lone mouth harp, Swans add on layers of instrumentation (sounds like a lot of mandolin going on) until guest vocalists Devendra Banhart and Michael Gira’s three year old daughter come in with some rather creepy lullaby-like vocals that are as captivating as they are unsettling.  Then, in an instant the song shifts to an even more unsettling controlled cacophony of acoustic instruments.   It sounds like realizing you are trapped in a nightmare.  You know, but in a cool way. The penultimate track “Eden Prison” comes off like a gypsy march towards hell.   Gira’s crooning on this jam has distinct hints of both Elvis Presley and a down-on-his-luck lounge singer.  It accompanies the instrumentals perfectly,  adding a bit camp to all the drama.  Second favorite track.  The album’s closer, “Little Mouth” comes off like a murder ballad hybridized with a chain gang sing-along.  The album closes, fittingly, with Gira, a capella, singing in his grizzled and weary timbre about love and hope.

Swans have made something to be proud of with My Father… It’s an album that requires patience, but rewards it in equal measure.  Despite the lengthy run times of some of the tracks, there is no fat on this record.  The production, though far superior to anything that other band that happened to be called Swans ever enjoyed, never comes across as flashy and always sounds natural and dynamic.   This one will be on the Buddyhead Best of 2010 list, mark my words.

Check out clips and get more info here:

http://younggodrecords.com/Releases/Detail.asp?C=2343

Adam Franklin & Bolts Of Melody
“I Could Sleep For A Thousand Years”
Second Motion Records

I picked up this third solo record by Adam Franklin cuz he used to sing in this bad ass band you may have heard of called Swervedriver. I like Adam, he puts on a good show… solo or with his old (current?) band. I last wrote about him HERE. If you don’t know about them, you best do your homework son. This record isn’t great yet it’s not bad, the titles a little long but it still doesn’t hold a candle to that shit Fiona Apple pulled plus it’s the dude from Swervedriver so he gets a free pass kinda. I listened to this record twice and although I’m pretty sure I liked it I don’t remember one song. It’s the kind of record you could put on at a party and everyone would be ok with it, but it’s also the kinda of record when I took it off and put on “Exile On Main Street” the entire party would cheer. But then again that’s a horrible analogy cuz that would happen to pretty much every record. if you put The Stones on after em around intoxicated people. Now I wanna listen to The Stones. Adam Franklin solo to Swervedriver is kinda like Richard Ashcroft solo to The Verve, it’s cool but it’s kind of a little too adult contemporary. This goes in my “Sell for weed & pills pile”. Get Swervedriver back together, that tour you guys did a couple years ago was fucking tits! Axl Rose gives this record a “MEDIOCRE!” Ooooooooohhhhhhh! Yowazah!

Download the first song on this slab of vinyl for free: “Yesterday Has Gone Forever”

]]> http://www.buddyhead.com/adam-franklin-bolts-of-melody-i-could-sleep-for-a-thousand-years/feed/ 4