The White Octave
Style No. 6312
 Like Robert Smith with a Jello Biafra jones that surfaces from time to time, so comes Stephen Pederson, formerly of Cursive, now of The White Octave. Taking the "emo" tenets partially established by the band's label and twisting them to into a weird sort of hybrid, The White Octave defies description. Some of their songs, most notably "Crashing the Clarion" seem to just hover on the verge of total sonic deconstruction, while others, like "Etc.," are somnambulistic, layered pieces. It's not boring, that's for sure, but it's not great, either. There's definitely brilliance hinted at here, but for whatever reason, it doesn't coagulate for me. I'm sure Deep Elm sees it too, because they have a pretty damn good track record so far. One or two releases down the line, this could be something truly amazing, but it's not there just yet. It still manages to be more interesting than radio rock, though. Maybe you'll see something I don't. (MHo)
(Deep Elm Records -- P.O. Box 36939, Charlotte, NC 28236; http://www.deepelm.com/)
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The White Papers
The liner notes say "we recommend headphones," and that's a fine suggestion. Not necessarily for the freaky electronic metal sounds that start off "Walk Me Up The Beach," but for the little, less up-front touches, like the way those same metal sounds turn into a wave of noise and then crumble into static before the guitars even enter. Or the hard-to-hear sample of what sounds like a guitar being unplugged in the middle of "Highbury & Islington" -- The White Papers may be only be six songs, but it's obvious that a lot of thought and care went into this EP. Both of the aforementioned tracks, by the way, are the highest of high points on a CD of nothing but; in "Walk Me Up The Beach," the combination of the jumpy, poppy melody, the droning bass, and vocalist/singer/songwriter Lance Walker's earnest, pained voice is just about perfect, and "Highbury & Islington" combines delicate guitars with a subtle organ sound and sing-song vocals for an almost spiritual, gospel-ish feel not unlike some of the Afghan Whigs stuff.
The whole thing reminds me strongly of The Secret Stars, particularly in the use of both pretty guitar-vocal melodies and odd electronics (courtesy of collaborator/producer Jeff McLaughlin, aka Houston-area DJ Jetboy), but there are no "experimental" songs on here; no full-fledged washes of noise, which may be a good or bad thing, depending on how you lean. No, this is pop at its heart, from the shimmery, kinetic guitars of "The Trains" to the beautiful strings incorporated into "Right Across The Ocean," and I'm pretty sure the aspects of this truly being showcased here are Walker's agile guitar work, desperation-filled voice, and I-know-this-means-something-but-I-can't-say-just-what lyrics. Speaking for the vocals, in particular, I should warn that people seem to either love or hate Walker's voice. I myself tend to fall in the former category -- he always sounds so plaintive and tortured, with that uncertain catch in his throat, that it draws me along every time -- but other folks might not feel the same way.
Finally, there's the lyrics, which as I understand it refer to one short period in Walker's life, and which seem, at least, to chronicle a love affair across the sea in England. I don't know the specifics, but after repeated listenings I can almost build scenes from the words and phrases, even if the details are fuzzy. And that's the point, I think -- that this is one record that definitely deserves repeated, careful listening. (JH)
(Ojet Records -- 2055 Westheimer, #165, Houston, TX. 77098; http://www.ojet.com/)
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Wolfie
And The Coat and Hat
I can't explain it, but listening to Wolfie always makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Maybe it's the unassuming, sometimes falsetto voices, or the unabashed love for goofy pop melodies, or the way the band sounds like they're smiling as they play and sing along, or just that thick layer of fuzz they always throw over the guitars, I don't know -- all I know is that it makes me bob my head along and smile, and feel that all's right with the world, even at the crappiest of times. From the first few seconds of the Weezer-ish "They Call Me Leaves," Wolfie's bassy, fuzzed-out pop-rock washes me away, putting me in the best of moods.
With And The Coat and The Hat, Wolfie seem to be embracing their arena-rock fixation a little more than previously. There's less twee-pop on here than on Where's Wolfie; only "Rachel Carson," a jangly, Byrds-style psychedelic-pop tune, really turns down the volume at all. At the other end of the spectrum, there's "It's Hard Luck Being Me," which almost sounds like an attempt at AC/DC at times...that is, if it were being filtered through The Rentals and several dozen thick, woolly blankets. After that, you get "The All Good People," which starts off delicate and quiet but then slams in with more than enough distortion to curl your hair; "Calvin Grove" does the same thing, starting with a slow groove and funky organ sounds, but then kicking in for an awesomely short, majestic chorus.
Of course, the band's always done this sort of thing, as evidenced by "Steely Dan," off their previous full-length, but there it seemed balanced out by the pop stuff -- I guess here there's just more of the rock. Which isn't bad, don't worry, just different. Either way, the EP's on its fourth time through the Discman this afternoon, and I'm not tired of it yet, so take that as a good sign... (JH)
(Kindercore Records -- P.O. Box 461, Athens, GA. 30603; http://www.kindercore.com/; Wolfie -- http://www.wolfieband.com/)
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