Alastor, Javelin Catcher

I’ve listened to this album three times now, and I can barely remember a damn thing about it. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but for an album to get away with it, it should sound pretty great while it’s playing. The problem with Javelin Catcher is that I can barely remember what it sounds like when the damn thing is on.

If I had to come up with a quick-and-easy description of Alastor (wait, I do), I’d point out their resemblence to the Violent Femmes, with a personality-starved Aimee Mann (hang on, no, make that PJ Harvey going through pointless soft-blues exercises) as frontwoman. With no real bass player, just what looks to be a hired gun, Alastor blandly plugs away at a series of chorded drones with the bored vocals of Elizabeth Elkins (although I think it’s supposed to be sarcastic). Silly touches like the Physical Graffiti-style chorus of “Indiana Mine” and the guttural mutterings that open and punctuate “D.U.I.” break the monotony but don’t do much more. When Elkins begs “Break a branch off a tree and beat me till I can’t scream,” she’d better watch herself.