Half Film
East of Monument
 The packaging is all dark and sepia tones, and so is the music. Slow and deliberate, but not super slow, and atmospheric and all the songs use the same colors but in different combinations. If I said it sounded like Seam and Low and Velvet Underground, you'd know what I mean and whether or not you liked it, even though if I played this back-to-back with "Hey Latasha" or "Violence" or "Sweet Jane" it wouldn't sound like any of them. I'm very satisified with this album, and it doesn't bother me that I've listened to it a dozen times and I can't remember how any of the songs go. It's not about that; it's about a guitar/bass/drums trio making a slow, austere cocoon for you to dive into and think about stuff on a rainy day. Recommended for those of you who like that kind of thing; the rest of you will probably get annoyed and want to put on some Green Day or something. Your loss. (DD/Fall 1999)
(Buzz Records -- 1936 West Thomas, Chicago, IL. 60622; http://www.symbiotic.net/buzzrecords.html)
BUY ME:
Harriet The Spy
Unfuckwithable
First off, how could I possibly pass up an album with a title like that? Heh. This is a tough one to categorize -- hailed as one of the coolest new "loud" bands, HTS aren't loud so much as unbelievably noisy; I get the feeling that seeing them live could permanently damage your ears, just by virtue of the crackling, trebly distorted guitars that rage and roar throughout. The music reminds me of Sonic Youth and their contemporaries more than anything, particularly "Paint My Atoms" and the Steel Pole Bathtub-ish "Girls In Bikinis"; each song is littered with complex, atonal guitar passages, detuned noise, frantic drumming, and vocals that waver between detached boredom and outrage.
The resemblance isn't even just in terms of the music, but also in terms of "fuck-you" attitude. The songs on Unfuckwithable are all about disillusionment and the failures of modern society, both when it comes to people's interactions and our collective obsession with technology (at least, as far as I can tell). In particular, "When the Shit Hits the Commodore 64" gets it dead-on, with the howled line "dot com is for mother fuckers/http ain't shit to me." The CD sleeve pretty much sums it up: it shows a picture of a girl from a '70s-looking ad holding a Pepsi and smiling, with a small American flag glued over it and the words "thanks for nothing asshole." (JH/Fall 1999)
(Troubleman Unlimited -- 16 Willow Street, Bayonne, NJ. 07002)
BUY ME:
|
|
The Holdouts
Flyin' Mule Kick
The cover art for this disc would lead you to believe that it's chock full of backwoods, shitkicker tunes. Fortunately, the western layout is somewhat misleading, as The Holdouts play roots-rock with something of a twang to it, reminiscent of Wilco and their No Depression ilk. The musicianship on this album is pretty good, with an especially nice Young-with-Crazy-Horse-ish guitar tone on the uptempo tracks, and neat little acoustic flairs courtesy of pedal steel, dobro and mandolin on the slower cuts. Tunes that really jumped out at me were the funk/blues-infused "Runnin' Away," (definitely one of those "hold your beer and cigarette in the air and gyrate drunkenly" songs) and the barn-burner "Friction." I didn't care much for the vocals or the lyrics, not that they're bad, mind you, but nothing really struck me about them. If anything, that's where The Holdouts succumb to the rotes of rock. These guys aren't trailblazing the insurgent country genre or anything, but Mule Kick is a pretty good barbecue and beer album nonetheless. (MHo/Fall 1999)
(Aus-Tone Records -- 281-326-7256; CLCH09@aol.com)
|
