Animal Names - 'Let It Been'

While I prefer physical releases, I can’t blame indie label Boat Dreams From the Hill for going digital only on Animal Names’ sophomore effort Let It Been. It’s a good album, reminiscent of the Good Year, early Cardigans, Venice is Sinking and like half of the bands on Saddle Creek. But the band behind it broke up back in March. Might as well cut costs.

Folks should still check out the record, though. The male/female dual vocals recall Straylight Run, except with more rockitude. The band pumps some pep into numbers like the synth-rocker “Lookout! Records Tryout,” even if the joke in the title is too soon. While the group falls under the indie rock banner, there are flourishes that lean ever so slightly towards punk. Sometimes Melissa Gregerson sounds like Lauren Measure of the Measure [SA]; sometimes Chris Van der laan takes on a pop punk whine remniscient of Lagwagon’s Joey Cape. It’s contemporary indie pop for punks, or maybe it’s punk for hipsters. Either way it’s Canadian.

The lyrics might be a hurtle for some folks, though. There are clunkers spread around (“I don’t get internal rhymes”? Songs about Santa Claus? Are you high?), and some are just too obviously taken from other songs. “99 Luft Einkaufstasche / Santa’s Bday” borrows a line from Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young’s “Our House,” while “Jawbroken” knicks the chorus from the Beatles’ “She Loves You.” Sure it sounds good, but c’mon now. If you’re gonna steal, go obscure. Don’t repeat one of the most famous songs from one of the most famous rock groups of all time and expect applause for it. That’s just sloppy. More successful is the Sound of Music-referencing “(Where is My) Space Puppy?”, both because it incorporates “Do-Re-Mi” more smoothly and because the title is tops.

Word on the street is four-fifths of Animal Names’ members will be continuing on under a different name, so I hope these songs don’t fade away too soon. Let It Been is a fine blend of indie pop hooks and punky guitars, a fun, rocking collection that’s perfect for the summer months.

Arranged Marriage - 'Dearly Beloved'

My dad and I connect on a musical level, in that we both enjoy Bruce Springsteen and U2. He always wanted to play drums; I know how to do play drums. But our musical relationship pales compared to the one father and son duo Brad and Scott Allen possess. Under the moniker Arranged Marriage, they’ve recorded a full-length, Dearly Beloved, which bridges the years between their generations. The album at times recalls both Harry Nilsson and Wilco, or George Harrison and Matt Sharp.

That the two have common musical ground shouldn’t be too surprising. Contemporary indie has drawn quite a bit from ’70s singer/songwriters, folkies and country balladeers in the last decade. But this familial combination sure puts a fine point on the connection. It’s clear that the name reflects just how well the two musicians’ tastes converge.

But then, the influences they draw from approach near-universal levels. Take “Brand New,” a track that would fit in perfectly with the Beatles’ druggy period. It’s hazy and the vocals take on an alien quality at times, but it’s still poppy and disciplined, just like the Beatles, a band that has succeeded in being completely over- and underrated by everyone on the planet.

Dearly Beloved might grab people’s attention with its backstory, but it’s the tunes that make the record worthwhile. Tracks like “Not a Waste of Time,” “Is All Mine” and opener “Sit Alone” are catchy, self-contained indie pop pleasures. The record’s only real drawback is the slight sameness of the songs. After “Brand New,” things might blur together for some listeners, but the songcraft is still fairly solid throughout. These guys knew what sound they were pursuing, and approached it with discipline, filling songs’ margins with handclaps, auxiliary percussion and backing vocals galore. This stuff should go over well with folks regardless of whether or not they’re invited to the next Allen family reunion.

The Accelerators - 'My Baby is an Undertaker'

Hailing from the Netherlands, pop punk quartet the Accelerators show a fine appreciation of American music. Flecks of Ramones, Screeching Weasel, Descendents, and the Queers crop up in their four-song seven-inch, My Baby is an Undertaker. The style is surely one of those World Wonders by now – unchanging, monolithic – but the band does the genre proud.

How the title track never ended up being an actual Ramones song, I’ll never know. Musically, it’s right there. It’s the lyrics that clinch it, though, as bouncy rhythms score a tale about dating an undertaker. The chorus is the title. It’s kitschy enough to fall right in there with “Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue” and “Pet Cemetery,” but not so over the top that it comes out like a Nekromantix tune. Nobody needs that. “The Night Feels So Much Better Than the Day,” a Centerfolds cover, follows with guest spots from members of Retarded, Apers and Zatopeks.

The flipside’s songs, “The Rain” and “Burning Bridges,” up the adrenaline a bit, but the band already knocked out their strongest track with “My Baby is an Undertaker.” Everything else is just a victory lap. While the Accelerators don’t reinvent the genre – who could? – they still have fun with it, and hopefully so will listeners.

Angercore - 'Time Reveals

Dang it all, Angercore. I’m quite upset with you for wasting such a hi-lariously awesome name on such mediocre tunes. During the 40 minutes that fill your record Time Reveals, not once do you rock me. I’m starting to question your dedication to anger. I do not think it constitutes your core, nor do I think it will give rise to yet another punk subgenre. I think, Angercore, that you might be a little nu-metal.

Now hang on, I don’t mean it in like a lame-o Limp Bizkit way. But I don’t mean it in an “Is it OK if I still listen to this?” Deftones way either. You’re more of a Trust Company middle. You didn’t write “Break Stuff,” but heck if people can remember you.

When your first track, “For a While,” came on, I was concerned. “Those scream parts seem arbitrary,” I thought. “I feel as if these quiet verses are meant to kill time until the totally balls-to-the-wall chorus kicks in.” It didn’t work too well. And that Disturbed-style spoken word bridge left me flabbergasted. Then, you had to noive to make the next nine tracks sound exactly like “For a While.” Sure, track two, “Two As One,” is a little catchy, but the rest of the batch is a wee bit homogenous. And the hook for “Two As One” – “Well I know it’s not seven years ago anymore / I grow shyer / But I’ve tried on I’ve tried” – leaves me thinking of 2001, the year that gave us Alien Ant Farm’s ANThology and System of a Down’s Toxicity. Are you admitting your dated sound? Is seven years the cut-off?

I’m not angry, Angercore. Just disappointed. I mean, you jerk me around for 10 tracks, and then stun me with the acoustic closer “The End.” That trombone part is actually kind of good. I endorse that life decision. But you really need to go to your room and think about your life, Angercore. Have you thought about law school?

Artist Vs Poet - 'Artist Vs Poet'

Hey kids! Ya like fun doncha? Try slamming down some Artist Vs Poet, the new EP from *SLAM! BANG! POW!* Artist Vs Poet! Fearless Records, the label that gave you Punk Goes Ragtime, Punk Goes Fast Food Jingles, and Punk Goes French New Wave Film Scores 1959-1969 Volume Trois, presents this Texan pop act in the vein of All Time Low and Fight Fair. These guys set themselves apart with songs about girls, nasally vocals, and a really brightly colored album cover. It’s totes awesome, kids! KIDS?! LOOK AT ME!

All over-the-top sarcasm aside, Artist Vs Poet dabbles in ultra-clean power pop masquerading as pop punk. Kenny Vassoli-esque vocals and touches of electronica color up some otherwise drab arrangements, spit-shined by Mike Green (Paramore, Set Your Goals, and, uh, Paris Hilton). Dude’s had a big hand in the next generation of pop punk, which in a way hurts the band. Artist Vs Poet sounds like Paramore without the pipes, hooks, or relative “umph,” something made even more apparent thanks to the guy who helmed All We Know is Falling.

Even by earnest mallpunk standards, Artist Vs Poet (a.k.a. Quadrilateral Vs Square, a.k.a Thing Vs More Specific Thing) is bland, bearing more in common with the Click Five and Tinted Windows than they’d probably care to admit. If there’s such a thing as anti-Orgcore (clean production/vocals, cookie cutter angsty lyrics, and not sounding like the Lawrence Arms at all), surely this must be it.

Freebies: new Ancestor EP.

So it seems like all my friends are giving away their tunes these days. My buds in the hardcore/metal outfit Ancestor recorded, mixed, and released a new EP, Allude to Illusion, yesterday. The title appeals to the Against Me! fan in me, as do the four tunes so technical that you want to call the guys liars for saying they only took a day to record. Check out MySpace for info on the band. Or just go straight to this link to download the chompie fo' free. They're not even going to bother asking for a donation, that's how deep their anti-capitalistic feelings go.

Tori Amos at the Tower Theater

[Here's something momentous in the world of Picasso Blue. Our first guest article, courtesy of Michelle Kate Byrne. Full disclosure: I think she's really cute.]

At roughly 8:25 p.m. on Sat., Aug. 15, it was predicted that Tori Amos would take to the stage of the Tower Theater in 35 minutes just as she had two years before. This was much anticipated as opener One EskimO’s lackluster performance had matched the stagnant air of the theater perfectly. Think Seal + Bowerbirds + suck. Sample quote: “You float like a baby looking for safety.” +1 point for your genuine British politeness, though. I also want to give One EskimO another point for the Byron "Buster" Bluth lookalike grooving on their undistinguished jams, but I am pretty sure that guy danced the rest of the night too.

At 9:01 p.m., the theater transformed into a Tori dreamworld as Matt Chamberlain and Jon Evans subtly took to the stage, making me forgive and forget the opener. The evening, the set, and even the artist’s demeanor were different than the last Philadelphia performance. The show was not as "hippie spiritual" as the tours for Scarlet’s Walk and Beekeeper, not as rockin’ as American Doll Posse and Boys for Pele, not as heartbreaking but coy as Little Earthquakes, and not as dark as From The Choirgirl Hotel and Strange Little Girls. It was intricate, paced, and adult; but, still passionate. It was as dreamy as the To Venus and Back days, yet with a particular spice added from each song of a different era, making it a complex concoction.

As a Tori devotee for well over a decade, I know that there is a masterly method to this magnetizer’s madness (Wink.) Tori’s dreamworld was aided by her wardrobe (a primarily blue dress over gold leggings), the twinkling and swirling lighting effects, and the plethora of piano-based instruments on the stage; as well as several songs with the word “blue” somewhere within their lyrics, three songs with “Cloud[s]” in the title,” and nine songs with the letter “C” beginning a word in the title. (I know there is a reason for these things!) The song organization was in the same vein as this year’s Abnormally Attracted to Sin, cultivating the ethereality: "Black Dove (January)" into "Welcome to England!" "Northern Lad" into "Cars and Guitars!" What?!

When Tori took to the stage, I was surprised that her petite frame seemed even tinier than two years ago. But then, the nearly 46-year-old played for nearly two hours straight working her ass off the entire time. She spent the majority of the show doing sexy squats while straddling the piano bench playing keys on both sides of her; breaks were accompanied by a little vogue-like dance. The songs are almost too complex for a live show as it seemed she used three, maybe four, key-based instruments for “Starling.” Rarely straining, she is a master at pacing herself and keeping her sense of humor. Extra dreamy takes of “Hotel” and “Bouncing Off Clouds” with extended introductions added lightness to the newer and extremely involved songs, like “Starling” and “Welcome to England.” Two of my least favorite Tori songs - “Your Cloud” and “Carbon” - fit flawlessly into the celestial atmosphere Amos created, and made me think I just hadn’t “gotten them” before this date. “Northern Lad” brought this redhead to tears and left the lovely redhead two seats down from me sniffling as well. The classics were greatly appreciated by the audience, with “Crucify” bringing the audience to their feet with an air of great respect.

Tori closed with “Strong Black Vine” off of this year’s Abnormally Attracted to Sin, and she gave the performance of a lifetime. She bestowed upon us the most powerful and raw version audiences may ever hear with some extended “motherfucker” verses. Watching her work throughout the evening was exhausting, and after the performance of that song, I knew there was nothing greater on earth for my ears to hear. She gave us a tired encore of “Caught A Lite Sneeze” and “Big Wheel,” though she did perk up for the “MILF” chanting. The lights went on immediately after the first encore, which (in my experience) is a rarity. However, I was, as usual, more satisfied than I could have ever imagined and amazed at the stamina Tori possessed. I hope she got to spend the rest of her evening with her mother and father, who were also in attendance.

Anamanaguchi - 'Dawn Metropolis'

[As much as I like this album, typing Anamanaguchi's name is a bitch.]

In a fit of nostalgia, I recently downloaded a ROM of X-Men 2: Clone Wars. Originally for the Sega Genesis, in some ways it was harder than current-gen video games, if only for its lack of continues or ability to score extra lives. But 14 years after its release, I finally brought the Phallanx to their knees, mostly with just Wolverine, although Cyclops and Nightcrawler helped. In addition to reveling in my ability to kick the shit out of Magneto, Apocalypse, and the Brood, I was struck by the soundtrack. In spite of its limited range of notes, the game featured some strong compositions, with the opening title sequence and the driving techno of the Phallanx levels standing out in particular. I re-learned something that my nine-year-old self already knew: video games are awesome. Which is something Anamanaguchi already knew too.

New York’s Anamanaguchi specializes in chiptune, or electronic indie rock that sounds like an 8-bit video game soundtrack. In terms of literal sound, think of any Nintendo game from the late ’80s/early ’90s with a dash of post-rock. But in terms of energy, catchiness, and general fun, these guys fit in with the likes Andrew W.K. and the Aquabats circa Charge!!. On Dawn Metropolis, a seven-song, 26-minute instrumental testament to the power of rock and/or NES, Anamanaguchi shines.

Now, to be fair, the band’s tonal palate is severely limited because of its adherence to old school sounds. Aside from some of the guitar work, this sounds like an old 8-bit cartridge. Which in turn means that for some, Dawn Metropolis might get a little repetitive near the end. But if you listen to the record’s subtleties, a real treasure/princess/good album awaits.

Dawn Metropolis knocks out its two most immediate numbers right away with “Blackout City” and “Jetpack Blues, Sunset Hues.” These cuts are fast-paced, fun, ideal driving music. Just like the video games of the past, these tunes will incite frenetic side-scrolling. The title track repeats the same quick ‘n’ catchy trick, but it works, so there’s no point in complaining.

Ananamanaguchi switches up its style a little on “Danger Mountain,” which opens with what sounds like pixilated explosions and guns. Basically, it sounds like a boss battle. Where the band really extends itself is on the climactic final track, “Mermaid.” This post-rock ditty goes through a wide range of ideas during its eight-minute running time, from its twinkling intro to its ominous verse, the song undulates between demonic prog and danceable techno.

While the band certainly has dork nostalgia appeal, Anamanaguchi should appeal to a wide range of music fans in spite of their admittedly niche approach. There are only so many chords to write with, and that goes double for chiptune, but Dawn Metropolis defies novelty by being a straight-up awesome rock record. How far the band and the style can go is debatable; for now, though, Dawn Metropolis is a strong document, a fine blend of electronic and punk sensibilities.

Against Me! - 'The Original Cowboy'

It might seem odd at first that Fat Wreck Chords is just now releasing Against Me!’s The Original Cowboy, a collection of demos for 2003’s As the Eternal Cowboy. As it turns out, though, the record is pretty well-timed. For the ex-fans who felt burned by the slick production on 2007’s New Wave and frontman Tom Gabel’s 2008 solo EP Heart Burns, here’s something grittier. For fans bummed to see drummer Warren Oakes leave the group, here’s one last shot at the sun. And super-fans and newbies alike get a glorious history lesson.

Granted, the demos and the finished product don’t differ too greatly. Original Cowboy was recorded, sans “Sink, Florida, Sink,” as a trial run meant to help producer Rob McGregor familiarize himself with the material. “Cliché Guevara” is still positioned as the second song and “Turn Those Clapping Hands Into Angry Balled Fists” is still near the end. Original Cowboy’s session for “Cavalier Eternal” actually ended up on Eternal Cowboy at label head Fat Mike’s request. And anyone who’s been to an AM! show knows that “A Brief Yet Triumphant Intermission,” renamed here as a triumphant “Introduction,” makes for a good opener. For the casual fan, the differences are minimal.

But for the dedicated, Original Cowboy is a treasure. A plugged-in version of “Unsubstantiated Rumors (Are Good Enough for Me to Base My Life Upon)” similar to the one on the Sink, Florida, Sink seven-inch is available. There are little differences in phrasings, like the ending of “Rumors.”

In a press release for Original Cowboy, Gabel noted that, “Listening to it today, there’s a part of me that feels foolish for ever recording these songs a second time.” And while these demos aren’t as fully fleshed out as, say, Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska or PJ Harvey’s 4-Track Demos, there’s a heck of a lot of truth to that statement. Original Cowboy is overdub-free, dirty without sounding too muddled, and certainly not a mere throwaway recording. Heck, these straightforward live takes outclass the band’s actual live record, Americans Abroad!!! Against Me!!! Live in London!!!. Aside from some flat vocals here and there, the songs are remarkably conceived despite their rapid-fire formation. The rock-out at the end of “Clapping Hands” benefits from the grit. “Cliché Guevara,” as kickass a song as it was in 2003, sounds even better with raw production, as do “Rice and Bread,” “Mutiny on the Electronic Bay” and “T.S.R.”. Eternal Cowboy is by no means an overproduced record, but Original Cowboy is unquestionably the better rock record, and arguably the better Against Me! album in general.

Now, I’m a super-fan. I knew I was going to like Original Cowboy before I even heard it, and Eternal Cowboy is actually my least favorite AM! full-length. So, I decided to try an experiment. See, most of you have probably already heard Eternal Cowboy. You know how the songs go. For some of you, hearing slightly different versions of those songs might sound “wrong.” So I wanted to test Gabel’s assertion that he felt silly for re-recording these songs by playing them for someone who wasn’t familiar with Eternal Cowboy.

My girlfriend is an Against Me! fan who has never heard Eternal Cowboy, or any of the band’s EPs. She has heard Reinventing Axl Rose, Searching for a Former Clarity and New Wave. She’s seen the band in concert multiple times. She prefers Gabel’s shouting voice over his singing voice. She is a big fan of what Tori Amos calls “audio porn” -- that is, clear vocals and discernible lyrics. She’s less concerned about instrumental clarity. However, she also prefers PJ Harvey’s 4-Track Demos over its studio counterpart, Rid of Me. She heard the former before the latter. She’s also wicked hot and I want to make out with her like all the time.

I asked my special lady friend to listen to my copy of Original Cowboy for at least a day straight, take two days off from AM! listening, and then play Eternal Cowboy for at least a day straight. In the interest being an amateur scientist, I hypothesized that she would prefer Original Cowboy for its raw intensity, as well as the fact that she experienced that record first. On both counts, I was right. With the exception of “Slurring the Rhythms” and “Rice and Bread,” she loved the demo sessions more. She was turned off by the acoustic songs, preferring the demos’ ferocity. “Clapping Hands,” her favorite of the demos, ended up being her least favorite on the finished album, feeling that the music sounded defanged and that Gabel’s vocals strained too much towards melodrama. Were it not for “Sink, Florida, Sink,” Eternal Cowboy would be irrelevant for both of us, as well as new fans.

Lest we forget, some folks, myself included, felt that Eternal Cowboy was a weak followup to Reinventing Axl Rose. Original Cowboy corrects this misstep. It isn’t overcooked, nor is it sloppily thrown together. Perhaps it is like Nebraska, in that it’s a beautiful accident, a collection that captures the band’s ideas without fussing over them. Against Me! is going to start recording their next LP with Butch Vig soon, and while that album is expected for 2010, Original Cowboy is a compelling argument for a fall 2009 release.

The Answer - 'Never Too Late'

[Punknews.org asked me to review The Answer. Again. UGH.]

Classic hard rock necrophiliacs The Answer’s North American debut EP, Never Too Late, promises to appeal to fans of Led Zeppelin, Free, AC/DC, Black Crowes and Kings of Leon. Or at least, that’s what the black sticker on the packaging claims. The band specializes in recycling riffs and rhythms well past their ’70s heyday. Assuming Org readers are even into this, essentially the antithesis ’77 punk rebelled against, they’d still be better off playing any of the RIYL bands listed above.

Oh no, my Irish friends, it is too late for your Led Zep-loving brand of classic rock. We here in the states have been enduring the likes of Hinder, Buckcherry and Silvertide for years, and lemme tell ya, this pseudo-bluesy bar bullshit has got to stop. I hate Aerosmith. I hate Robert Plant. I love The Hobbit, but I hate Led Zeppelin. The Answer’s self-indulgent, overly long guitar solos (overly long songs in general, for that matter), whining, grating vocals, and trite, pointless lyrics combine to form a maelstrom of weak songwriting. If you’re going to rip off bands from 30 years ago, couldn’t you settle for The Clash or, at the very least the ominous sludge of Black Sabbath?

Zatopeks/Accelerators - split

U.K. kids looking to learn their punk rock A-Z without actually listening to influential bands can check out the Accelerators/ Zatopeks split out on Squinty Joe Records. With two songs from each band, the seven-inch is reliably predictable.

The Neatherlands’ Accelerators sound like any ’90s pop punk band ever. NOFX, Descendents, The Queers, and Pulley are all good reference points. Listeners who own any records released by Epitaph or Fat Wreck Chords pre-2000 will be instantly familiar with the band. The group’s songs, “I Don’t Want to Know” and “Got Kicked in the Front of My Head,” are catchy and rocking enough, although the latter tune uses its chorus a wee bit too liberally.

Zatopeks, of England and Germany, have more of a Buzzcocks vibe, as “Scum on the River” and “Amy Tonight” carry a layer of anxious yearning and energy. Frontman Will DeNiro doesn’t quite carry the same snotty sneer as Accerators’ vocalist Ox Accelerator. “Scum on the River” in particular is a pub-ready rabble rouser, however directionless and rambling it gets near the end.

It’s hard to pick a winner here. Accelerators write better hooks, but Zatopeks rock the fun gang vox angle.

Let’s just call it a split decision. *bum dum bum pish!*

regarding Warren Oakes and Against Me!

Drummer Warren Oakes played his last show with Against Me! last night. He either quit or was kicked out; take your pick. On the plus side, he's opening a Mexican restaurant in Florida called Boca Fiesta. Road trip, prehaps?

I've said before that Against Me! was my generation's Clash, and apparently they're going through their post-Combat Rock phase. I guess guitarist James Bowman better watch out before he gets Mick Jones-ed. And I guess I can look forward to frontman Tom Gabel acting like a damn fool for a wee bit (Is Heart Burns his Earthquake Weather? Will the next AM! record be his Cut the Crap?).

It's been a shitty month for punk rock, ya'll.

A Camp - 'Colonia'

Cardigans frontwoman Nina Persson revived her A Camp side project this year with Colonia (technically she started recording it in 2007, but you get my meaning, doncha?). Husband and Shudder to Think guitarist Nathan Larson helps out this time, but the family affair just feels that much more disappointing. Colonia, A Camp’s second album, struggles to find its own identity, settling into a fey malaise.

Persson has said in interviews that she didn’t want Colonia to sound like A Camp’s self-titled debut or any phase of The Cardigans’ discography, which eliminates indie rock, country, trip-hop, and Black Sabbath covers. What’s left could be sort of compared to The Cardigans’ Long Gone Before Daylight – Colonia similarly deals in indie pop, but it dials down The Cardigans’ blend of smart yet depressing lyrics married to catchy hooks. And while it makes sense that Persson would want to grow as an artist, one has to ask what was wrong with writing clever, infectious pop songs.

Not that Colonia is a bad album. It’s just not a great one. Orchestral indie pop has been done better, both with and without Persson. So while songs like “Love Has Left the Room,” “Strong Than Jesus,” and “Chinatown” feature lush arrangements and big vocals, there’s still that sinking feeling that, well, there are better Persson albums one could be spinning. Gran Turismo’s spacey electronica and First Band on the Moon’s lounge pop certainly come to mind.

In the interest of being fair and balanced and whatever, here are a few more of the album’s positives: “Golden Teeth and Silver Medals,” a duet with Nicolai Dunger about singing duets. It’s so meta! The chiming piano opening to “The Crowning” is kinda interesting. And Persson’s voice is still a great selling point. She doesn’t necessarily have the widest range, but she can still go big with flecks of grit peppered in. And that coo still makes me swoon.

Colonia suffers from the burden of expectations. If it came from an up-and-coming band, I’d be polite and call it “promising.” But coming from a pop genius like Persson, I have to call bullshit. The record just doesn’t hit me, either on a lyrical or pop level.

Various - 'All Aboard: A Tribute to Johnny Cash'

Has there ever been a perfect tribute album? It seems like it would be impossible; how do you make a compilation that honors a band yet betters them at every turn? It’s a paradox. Yet every year sees more and more cover albums issued. All Aboard: A Tribute to Johnny Cash is one such release, and while it never beats the former “man in black,” it sure does give him glory. The liner notes contain blurbs from each of the bands involved, and some of the participants, like The Bouncing Souls and Smoke or Fire’s Joe McMahon are upfront about the feeling that they can’t make these songs any better.

I know art is supposed to be subjective, but scientifically speaking, Johnny Cash is one of the greatest American musicians ever. It’s fact. To try to cover his material faithfully, as many of the bands here do, is an exercise in futility. All Aboard marks the first time I’ve ever listened to Chuck Ragan (“Wreck of the Old 97,” with Jon Gaunt) and thought, “You know, I think he could be gruffer.” That’s not to say that Ragan’s cover fails – it’s actually pretty good. But he makes me want to listen to more Johnny Cash instead, which might be the highest compliment I can give All Aboard.

Of course, I’d hate to imply All Aboard is any way a bad compilation, partially because its proceeds benefit The Syrentha Savio Endowment, which in turn kicks the shit out of cancer, but mostly because the CD is actually kind of good. The Souls open the disc with “Man in Black,” and they somehow maintain a lot of the song’s rhythm while adding their trademark Jersey punk style. Indeed, the best covers here try to accentuate certain elements. Depending on one’s perspective, MxPx either gives “Hey Porter” the standard pop punk cover treatment, or they update the song’s catchy leanings. “Hey Porter” was released in 1955; this is what commercial radio used to sound like. To that end, it’s surprising how effortlessly MxPx converts the tune. The Gaslight Anthem pushes “God’s Gonna Cut You Down” to its deepest, darkest peak. It doesn’t even sound like a TGA song, that’s how far the band goes to honor Cash’s haunting songwriting. The Dresden Dolls and Franz Nicolay, of The Hold Stead and World/Inferno Friendship Society, deliver an incredible take on the Jack Clement-written “Ballad of a Teenage Queen.” The trio converts the song to their cabaret leanings while maintaining the barbershop harmonies. Nocolay adds accordion, saw, and castanets to the mix, which is awesome and spooky. Overall, the Dolls deliver the best cover of the mix, if only because they’re the only ones who seem to break free from the source material and forge something new.

Overall, the album is reminiscent of Bruce Springsteen’s We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions. There’s lots of bluegrass and twangin’ a-foot. That works well enough too, I suppose, but it’s the songs mentioned above that really transcend. Being an album of songs Cash either wrote or had a hand in, the lyrics remain brilliant. What I miss, though, is Cash’s gritty baritone. If anyone could express yearning, addiction, strength, humor, and love in one breath, it was him.

Against Me! / Ted Leo live October 9, 2008

They opened with “Cliché Guevara.” The band started it off too slow but I decided 10 seconds in that I didn’t care and put everything I had into screaming “1-2-3-4!” The set had just started and my voice was already shot. Lightheaded. Tingling. Should have had dinner. I can tell how out of shape I’ve become since my last Against Me! show based on how quickly I get winded the next time. People used to bear down and beat me from every side and I’d still be able to shout every line; now I’m standing up front but without any violence and I’m winded worse than ever. But I couldn’t stop stomping my feet, bobbing my head, and feeling giddy as hell over the music.

The above is what I felt when I saw Against Me! headline Philadelphia’s Electric Factory Thursday, October 9 with Ted Leo/The Pharmacists and Future of the Left. The show was pretty much amazing from start to finish. The venue took a little while to fill up, perhaps due to the Phillies-Dodgers game, perhaps because it was a school night. It’s a shame more folks didn’t catch Future of the Left. While I was initially repulsed by their post-punk Gang of Four/XTC/PiL/[insert ’80s band here] style, I found myself becoming more and more intrigued with each song. The band is much more aggressive than most post-punk revivalists, putting them in closer league with maybe Mindless Self Indulgence, or maybe even Big Black. The trio was just as entertaining with their banter as they were with their songs, dealing with a heckler by saying, “I don’t come to where you work and interrupt you. I don’t slap the dicks out of your mouth.” Dick jokes rule forever!

Celtic punker Ted Leo was snappy too, chastising a fan for requesting “Since U Been Gone” with, “If we were friends, you would not ask me that.” Mostly, though, Leo just tore through last year’s Living With the Living with the energy of someone half his age. I hope I look that cool when I’m 38. Opening his set with “Sons of Cain,” Leo and his three supporting Pharmacists were irrepressibly peppy. This being my first Leo experience, I was disappointed at the lack of Tyranny of Distance/Hearts of Oak material, but at least I got “Where Have All the Rude Boys Gone?”, which is still my favorite Ted tune, and “Biomusicology.” Besides, hearing songs like “Army Bound” and “Who Do You Love?” bathed in dirty guitar chords, pounding drums, and Leo’s wonderfully expansive voice was worthwhile. Leo is one those performers who I could watch play endlessly; the set list kind of doesn’t matter. I’ll accept Chisel, Trebel in Trouble, sound collages, Kelly Clarkson covers, whatever.

Another highlight was a sloppy rendition of “Little Dawn,” from 2004’s Shake the Sheets. Drummer Chris Wilson had some trouble keeping up with Leo, but the ramshackle rendition felt more alive, or at least more punk-y. The set ended up being too brief at about 45 minutes, but I still felt deeply moved by the band’s energy. Now if only I could get some “Timorous Me” up in here…

As for the black-clad members of Against Me!, well, they played it too safe early on, with set openers “Cliché Guevara” and “New Wave” performed efficiently but too slowly. Things picked up by “White People For Peace.” Drummer Warren Oakes was a flash of arms and wide grins while bassist Andrew Seward brought the crowd the gift of hand claps and intense stares. As for co-vocalists Tom Gabel and James Bowman, well, they’re perfect together. Gabel was guttural, while Bowman’s voice soared thanks to his impossibly kickass lungs.

AM!’s live show has started to scale back from New Wave material, with only six songs from that album showing up. New Wave was still clearly a heavy influence on the set list, but more material from Reinventing Axl Rose worked into the show, including “Walking is Still Honest,” “Those Anarcho Punks are Mysterious…”, and “Reinventing Axl Rose.” Searching For a Former Clarity got some love via “Miami,” “Pretty Girls (The Mover),” “From Her Lips to God’s Ears (The Shaker),” and “Don’t Lose Touch.”

While I enjoyed Against Me!’s main set for its better blend of material past and present, it was the band’s encore that really did it for me. Not that I’m criticizing them, but the group’s live show has become somewhat standardized for a band that tours so frequently. As much as I love New Wave, I’ve heard those songs so many times in the last year and a half. I’d be happy to hear “Problems,” let alone a rarity like “Wagon Wheel” or “Gypsy Panther.” Luckily, Gable delivered in the end.

Gabel is set to tour solo with Hot Water Music’s Chuck Ragan, Avail’s Tim Barry, and Lucero’s Ben Nichols for “The Revival Tour” this month, but that outing won’t hit Philly. Perhaps that’s why Gabel started the encore with “Cowards Sing at Night,” from his upcoming solo EP Heart Burns. He didn’t really explain the lyrics too much, but with a line like “Come back home Johnny / Come back home from Vietnam,” it’s kind of hard not to see the tune as an anti-John McCain song. Anyone who wants to protest the “maverick” who can’t figure out how many houses he owns, let alone how to fix our economy or bring our troops home or use a computer, is OK in my book. The dug-up corpse of Ronald Reagan cannot save you now, buck-o.

The band came out after “Cowards” to perform “The Disco Before the Breakdown,” which I have never heard live before. So, that was kind of cool. The instrumental sections sounded a little empty without any horns, but who cares? Fast forward to show-ender “We Laugh at Danger (And Break All the Rules).” After a hard-hitting one hour set, the band finished its four song encore strong, delivering one of the best numbers they’ve ever written. There was plenty of grinning and clapping throughout, and the audience finally went off for a little bit. At no point during the show did the floor go insane, but “We Laugh at Danger” gave the crowd a nice shot of adrenaline. I mustered up what was left of my voice and screamed every line back to the band, connected with every other person in the venue through music. And then Prince’s “Purple Rain” came on over the loudspeaker.

Tom Gabel live and/or acoustic July 4, 2008

Not to spread piracy or anything, but here's a bootleg of seven new Tom Gabel compositions. Will they become Against Me! songs? Ebyam.

UPDATE: Anyone else annoyed by the dude who keeps trying to sing along even though it is impossible for him to know any of the fucking words?

Against Me! live November 16, 2007

The punks were thoroughly upped at the Electric Factory Nov. 16, thanks to world travelers Against Me!, The World/Inferno Friendship Society and Cobra Skulls. Epitaph rapper Sage Francis also performed, but he sucked, making the night 3/4 awesome, 1/4 obnoxiously ignorant. But I’m OK with that. See, Against Me! is still one of the hottest punk bands in town, no matter what label they sign to or how many Sum 41 songs they play over the speakers in between sets. Extra props go to World/Inferno Friendship Society for being just about the giddiest bunch of anarchists I’ve ever met. Give those folks a kids’ TV show, stat.

Canadian punk/hardcore act Cobra Skulls opened the show well enough, delivering crisp, crunchy riffs and aggressive vocals. While the band’s name outshone the quality of its songwriting, Cobra Skulls still provided an entertaining introduction to the evening.

The room’s energy was noticeably cranked once the suit-and-dress-lovin’ World/Inferno Friendship Society began playing. Blending epic orchestral compositions with big band jazz and the almighty punk rock, W/IFS was truly enlightening. Each band on the bill brought some politics to the stage, but none made taking down the system more fun than this act did. Granted, some of the Ralph Nader proselytizing got out of hand (Nader? Really? 0.38 percent of the popular vote?), but the optimism the band showcased was infectious. Besides, with opening quips like “Circle that ‘A’ [melon farmer]” and songs like “Cathy Catharine,” the only appropriate response was to dance.

Despite his affinity for beer and red wine, frontman Jack Terricloth (né Pete Vantantonio) proved an adept rabble rouser, combining chutzpah with smarts into socio-political calls-to-arms. An aesthetic sibling to Nation of Ulysses, Dresden Dolls and, what the hey, Bruce Springsteen and The E Street Band, The World/Inferno Friendship Society was a brilliant opening act, and easily one of the best live bands of 2007.

Unfortunately for Terricloth and his crew, however, most of the goodwill and energy the band concocted was killed off by Sage Francis.

Hailing from Providence, R.I., Francis showed some cajones by playing onstage with just a mic and sampler. What he lacked, though, was talent and focus, or so it seemed. Emerging to sing “Jah Didn’t Kill Johnny,” off of A Healthy Distrust, Francis started off curiously. Opening a set at the Factory with a nearly a cappella tune was brave, and the rapper seemed primed to dish out some evocative social commentary.

“Ladies, hold on to your dignity,” he said at one point, mocking the sexual desecration that sometimes comes with concerts.

Later, Francis pantomimed shoving his arm up a woman’s orifice to a sample of Nine Inch Nails’ “Closer.” So much for supporting women.

In a lot of ways, watching Francis perform was akin to watching a homeless person. He ranted nonsense (“I seen a monkey turn into a man, and I seen a man turn into a monkey”), threw off his shoes, stroked his gnarly beard, fumbled around a lot in his faded camo pants while dancing and kept screaming at us about how white and crazy he was (“I’m not a saint! Guess what Philly? I ain’t!”). Even the Francis fans in the bar balcony had a tough time staying interested in his weak flow, although applause was polite.

On the plus side, the guy made me respect Mr. Han of Linkin Park fame a lot more. Turns out it takes a shway ton of concentration to remember to press a button to start/stop songs. After finishing one tune, Francis would attempt freestyling, only to have beats from the next song kick in before he was ready. So bow your head in respect next time someone throws on Meteora.

This musical misstep was overcome once Against Me! picked up their instruments, though. The band’s new Sire-released album, New Wave, has been met with hostility from the underground, but you’d never know it from watching the band’s Factory set. Opening with “New Wave” and closing with “Ocean,” the black-clad band tore through eight of New Wave’s 10 searing, ready-to-rock cuts, with “Bourne on the FM Waves of the Heart” and “Animal” left by the wayside.

Sprinkled in between were Searching for a Former Clarity’s singles “Don’t Lose Touch,” “From Her Lips to God’s Ears (The Energizer)” and “Problems.” The band’s calling card of sorts, “Pints of Guinness Make You Strong,” received a huge crowd response.

For all of the complaining about the spit-shined quality of the new songs, it’s incredible how easily newbies like “Up the Cuts” and “White People for Peace” fit in with “Cliché Guevara” and “Sink, Florida, Sink.” Perhaps it was drummer Warren Oakes’ childlike grin, or frontman Tom Gable’s mischievous one, that sold the tunes. Or maybe they’re just really powerful, really catchy, really good songs.

At the same time, though, the band’s regular set offered no surprises. Against Me!’s first three records were mostly ignored, and the show closely mirrored the band’s October set at College Day on the Parkway.

Then came one of the best encores I’ve seen in a while.

Gable reemerged with an acoustic guitar to lead the crowd through “Baby, I’m an Anarchist!,” a satirical cut from Reinventing Axl Rose, and a popular tune to boot. The audience was ecstatic. Then came an even bigger surprise.

The rest of the band joined Gable this time, though he retained his acoustic guitar. As he played a simple chord progression and sang “May Elvis turn in his grave/and Les Paul kiss my dirty, calloused fingers,” the faithful in attendance slowly realized that Against Me! was playing “What We Worked For,” off of the band’s 2001 EP, Crime. Truly a live rarity, the crowd joyously sang along once the second chorus came along. A summation of Gable’s DIY, business, musical and philosophical sides, “What We Worked For” retroactively hints at “selling out,” being a huge band and resolving existential quandaries before any of these issues weighed down on Against Me!.

“Walking is Still Honest,” also from Crime and later rerecorded for Reinventing Axl Rose, breathlessly closed out the encore. Just as welcome as everything else the band played, it was the perfect closer, a final shout before the end. Between The World/Inferno Friendship Society and Against Me!, fun was had in disturbingly massive, throbbing doses. It’s a shame about that Francis guy, though. I hope he got home safe.