The Reveling - '3D Radio'

Let’s talk influences. There’s this guy named Bruce Springsteen. Maybe you know of him. He wrote some catchy tunes about working class misfits in the ’70s. And the ’80s. Then he kind of sucked in the ’90s but then he got good again. Anyway, he influenced a ton of bands, including The Gaslight Anthem. Oddly enough, they’re a punk band, but they blend Bruce’s knack for classic rock and evocative lyrical imagery into their songs. They’re pretty big right now. Not “Bruce big,” but TGA certainly carries some weight in the punk community. You can definitely hear their influence on Brooklyn band The Reveling on their self-released EP, 3D Radio, which is funny. Here’s why:

Reveling drummer Jay Weinberg is the son of Max Weinberg, drummer for The E Street Band, a.k.a the backing group for Springsteen. Everything is connected! The only downside: When your band recalls Bruce freaking Springsteen and The Gaslight Anthem, how the hell do you match the hype?

3D Radio sounds like TGA circa Sink or Swim with a dash of Social Distortion dirt. They don’t top those bands, but they also don’t fail to earn those comparisons either. Listeners get four uncomplicated yet gritty songs in the punk/classic rock hybrid vein. Weinberg sounds good on a kit, but he’s also played “Born to Run” in stadiums, so it’s expected. More weight falls on Sean Morris anyway. Weinberg might be “the name,” but Morris is still the frontman, and these songs live and die on his strengths and faults.

As is, Morris recalls TGA frontman Brian Fallon quite a bit on these rollicking tunes. Time will tell if he finds his own voice or remains a clone, but for now, The Reveling is worth checking out. Again, they draw the connection between Springsteen and Gaslight. How could you not be interested?

The Rentals - 'The Future'

As the year winds down, so too does the Rentals’ Songs About Time multimedia project. While fans can still expect a few more Films About Weeks installments and plenty more Photographs About Days updates now through December, the music portion of the artistic endeavor concludes with this month’s release of The Future. Part three of a trio of EPs already filled with mellow songs, The Future might be the most subdued, understated Rentals release yet.

It’s also their most electronic. On tracks like “A Rose is a Rose” and “Irrational Thing,” the band adds a stuttering artificial drum rhythm and a children’s chorus to its trademark use of synths, strings, and frontman Matt Sharp’s smooth, soft voice. Despite the EP’s title, it feels awfully retro – think Talk Talk Talk or Naked Eyes, only much, much quieter. “Traces of Our Tears” continues the ’80s flashback before “The Future” gently takes the listener out.

On a certain level, The Future is the worst Rentals release yet. The mini-album lacks any major sticking points – at this point, I’d settle for another “Story of a Thousand Seasons Past,” let alone another “Waiting” or “Getting By.” The Future opts for something murkier, more contemplative. The result is something that elevates ambience over cohesive structure. It’s not bad, but it’s definitely hyperspecific mood music to come down on, which is appropriate enough for fall nights. Still, it seems like an anticlimactic end to the collection. Worse still, it’s come to my attention that the physical release has been pushed back to March 2010. As if I don’t already (kind of) regret my decision to put down $125 for a box set, now I have to wait almost a full year from the original purchase date to even get my hand on this sucker. I thought the Internet was supposed to speed up my access to music?

The Raveonettes - 'In and Out of Control'

To the outside world, the Raveonettes are mere Jesus and Mary Chain noise fetishists, which is redundant and stupid and really not that fair. The duo of Sun Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo has constantly evolved since their debut, Whip It On. What began as an excuse to write a bunch of songs in the same key evolved into a fine blend of goth, bubblegum, ’50s rock ‘n’ roll, surf, and shoegaze on 2005’s Pretty in Black. Follow-up Lust Lust Lust found the band exploring their more droning side, and the album is a monolith of noise. A trio of nifty EPs released near the end of 2008 (Beauty Dies, Sometimes They Drop By, and Wishing You a Rave Christmas) radically shifted that dynamic, adding dreamy electronic elements that recall Cocteau Twins and My Bloody Valentine circa “Soon” than pure JAMC. New album In and Out of Control polishes that sound up a bit with a poppier bent.

Taken as a whole, In and Out of Control is the Raveonettes’ most accessible album yet. While there are a few callbacks to the band’s original sound, like “Heart of Stone,” for the most part, it’s a slick goth pop record in the ’80s sense of the phrase. That comes with a price, as fans of drone will likely call Control “overproduced.” But it’s also their catchiest, most danceable collection. And while the record sheds much of the band’s garage rock sound, it’s still awfully dark lyrically. “Boys Who Rape (Should All Be Destroyed” is the bluntest anti-rape song since Tori Amos’ “Me and a Gun,” and it’s a pop song. The Raveonettes could have used the melody to sell teen rom-coms and cars and fashionable clothes, but instead they employ it as sugarcoating for lines like “They rip you to shreds / Make you feel useless / You’ll never forget / Those fuckers stay in your head / Boys who rape should all be destroyed.”

A lot of the songs follow that same direct approach while describing past relationships and abuse. “Suicide” flirts with a teenage girl’s madcap New York City night, although it ends in the East River. Soft closing track “Wine” hits the listener with a montage of images (“You / Me / Stars / Asleep”) before lamenting the end of summer. Uber-catchy Ramones love letter “Gone Forever” and the stomper “Last Dance” cover the same topic with better beats and hooks.

While the music is certainly restrained compared to Lust Lust Lust, In and Out of Control is a perfect title for a concept album about being young and in love and in a bad place. The upbeat music gives the lyrics a romantic vibe, making the best pretty songs for sad people this side of the Cure.

Playlist: The Raveonettes

[Playlist is an attempt to distill my favorite artists to 80-minute compilations. If someone asked me to burn them a mix of the bands featured here, I would give them this collection.]

There are few artists I've had a love/hate relationship with more than the Raveonettes; so much so that I almost don't want to call it a "love/hate relationship." When the band band debuted back in 2002 with the Whip It On EP, I was pretty underwhelmed. Their video for "Attack of the Ghostriders" didn't do much for me, and a factoid that made the music news rounds about how the entire album was in B-flat minor (as of opposed to their full-length debut, Chain Gang of Love, which was in B-flat major) further turned me off from the group.

Fast-forward to college: Paul Tsikitas swooped in on a chariot of fire (FIRE!) and told me to buy Pretty in Black. There are very few times people have point-blank forced me to buy albums (Nate Adams - Separation Sunday; Eric Crack - Maybe I'll Catch Fire), and it's always paid off for me. Pretty in Black was a great record, blending elements of goth, bubblegum, '50s rock 'n' roll, and shoegaze into a potent cocktail. And they wrote songs in different keys.

But when the droning follow-up Lust Lust Lust came to the states last year, I found myself again let down by the Ravers. Now, I'm not saying I hate Lust; it's definitely more interesting than the band's early material mentioned above. It just doesn't pop like Pretty in Black. And I'll admit, it's not supposed to. Lust is definitely their heaviest, murkiest release to date, and it is a good record. But it's also not something I can listen to on a regular basis. I'm not getting anything out of the depths, unlike with, say, Loveless, and so Lust is a "sometimes" record. It's not my first choice when I put on the Raveonettes, but I'm still glad that I own it.

Disappointed, I still gave the band another whirl when they release three online-only EPs at the end of 2008. I'm glad I did. Beauty Dies, Sometimes They Drop By, and, to a much lesser extent, Wishing You a Rave Christmas, were all stellar bursts electronic drone. The band really piled on the layers here, shedding their Velvet Underground garage rock of old for something still lyrically dark but also more ambient, which extends to the group's upcoming new album, In and Out of Control [SPOILER ALERT: this puppy is one of my favorite albums of 2009]. As the decade comes to a close, I find myself more in love with the Raveonettes more than ever.

Admittedly, this playlist began as an excuse to have the online EPs coupled with "The Christmas Song," a compilation track the band released back in 2003 that I've always loved, even when I wasn't a Raves fan. I tacked on some of my favorite tracks from Pretty in Black and In and Out of Control, with a single song from Lust Lust Lust, which I feel stands better on its own as this monolithic slab of noise. So, the track list might be a little too focused on the band's recent output for some fans' taste. But then again, I didn't make this list for the hardcore.

Vintage Future
1. "The Christmas Song," The OC: Mix 3 - Have a Very Merry Chrismukkah
2. "Aly, Walk With Me," Lust Lust Lust
3. "Young and Beautiful," Beauty Dies
4. "Black/White," Beauty Dies
5. "The Thief," Beauty Dies
6. "Here Comes the End," Beauty Dies
7. "Way Out There," Sometimes They Drop By
8. "Blood Red Leis," Sometimes They Drop By
9. "Sometimes They Drop By," Sometimes They Drop By
10. "Vintage Future," Sometimes They Drop By
11. "The Heavens," Pretty in Black
12. "Seductress of Bums," Pretty in Black
13. "Love in a Trashcan," Pretty in Black
14. "Sleepwalking," Pretty in Black
15. "My Boyfriend's Back," Pretty in Black
16. "Bang!", In and Out of Control
17. "Gone Forever," In and Out of Control
18. "Last Dance," In and Out of Control
19. "Boys Who Rape (Should All Be Destroyed)," In and Out of Control
20. "Break Up Girls!", In and Out of Control
21. "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)," Wishing You a Rave Christmas
22. "Wine," In and Out of Control

Hey, I made it through the entire post without mentioning the Jesus and Mary Chain! Oh crap...

The Rentals - 'It's Time to Come Home'

July, the middle point of the year, calls for reflection. My dad traditionally declares the summer’s end after every Independence Day celebration. Fall is closer. And then winter. And then the end of the year, beginning another annual cycle, another slow death march to the grave, alone and forgotten. Plus, my Best Album of 2009 list is beginning to take form.

It’s July’s wistfulness in spite of its summery placement that makes it an appropriate month for the Rentals to release It’s Time to Come Home, chapter two in their Songs About Time project. This EP is all about regret (“Late Night Confessions”), nostalgia (“It’s Time to Come Home”), and longing (“Girls of the Metro”). Liner notes split into English and Spanish explain the songs’ histories. Like the band’s seminal release Seven More Minutes, both It’s Time to Come Home and its predecessor, Story of a Thousand Seasons, were conceived in Spain. That’s where the connections end, though.

Just as Seasons sounded mellower compared to 2007’s The Last Little Life EP, Home sounds even more subdued, weirdly recalling the barely there sound of frontman Matt Sharp’s solo material. While still a worthy purchase, it’s the slightest, perhaps least essential Rentals material to date.

The title track opens the album with bits of synth and steady drums before Lauren Chipman’s viola and heavy breathing lend the song some gravitas. “No Desire #2” follows in a similar electronic-heavy style, with slightly more propulsive percussion. “Girls of the Metro,” featuring Ozma vocalist/guitarist Ryan Slegr, is just as dreamy. Jamie Blake takes over on vocals for “Late Night Confessions,” a country-tinged lamentation. As sparse as the first three songs sound, the emergence of an acoustic guitar is actually startling. It also ends an already downplayed release on a depressing note.

It’s Time to Come Home is slight and bare, an EP that passes by rather quickly. The first three tracks blur together after a while. And while it’s not exactly a standout summer record, it is well-suited for a contemplative July.

Rancid - 'Let the Dominoes Fall'

No Skinhead Rob. Better than Indestructible. Worse than Let’s Go, …And Out Comes the Wolves, and Life Won’t Wait. On par with Rancid (2000) in terms of quality, though the styles differ. That’s the ranking on Let the Dominoes Fall, the first Rancid studio album in six years. Plenty has happened to the band since 2003 – bassist/vocalist Matt Freeman went through a cancer scare, drummer Brett Reed quit, and guitarists/vocalists Tim Armstrong and Lars Frederiksen both embarrassed themselves with poor sophomore albums from their other bands, The Transplants and The Bastards, respectively. Aside from Armstrong’s excellent reggae disc A Poet’s Life, the guys needed a kickass album again. And Let the Dominoes Fall is pretty nearly that album.

Let's pause to dismiss the drawbacks and then get back to the gleeful return. The record focuses too heavily on East Bay gang mentality. There’s plenty of chest-beating and lower class fronting going on, which rings a little hollow this late in the members’ lives. But then again, rock ‘n’ roll has always been built on myths, and besides, after such a long studio hiatus, there’s nothing wrong with reaffirming the band’s identity. Furthermore, Armstrong used to be a homeless crackhead. Ergo, he gets to talk about the streets for life.

Another complaint might be the fact that Rancid still unabashedly follows The Clash’s musical template. To those critics I say, “Hey, thanks for coming out. I didn’t notice that connection at all. At all. Hey, does The Gaslight Anthem remind you of any other New Jersey bands? Do you think Bruce Springsteen could be the New Dylan?” The truth is that Rancid takes The Clash’s love of world music and keeps it planted in the punk realm. These ska songs still rock like a two-tone tune, clam flammit.

OK, back to the gushing. As much as I hate line-up changes, I suppose Brett Reed was the most expendable member of Rancid. His replacement, Branden Steineckert (ex-The Used), is a better drummer. Dude’s got superior chops, but he still knows when to get out of the song’s way. A diehard Rancid fan before being asked to join the band, Steineckert understands what makes the act’s formula works.

And at 19 tracks, Let the Dominoes Fall has plenty of room to work. There’s plenty of oi stompers (“Last One to Die”), dub jams (“I Ain’t Worried”), and the occasional stylistic experiment (the acoustic “Civilian Ways” is a touching pro-soldiers song about Armstrong’s brother, Greg, who served in Iraq). There’s even some goofy fun tunes, like “Lulu” and “Dominoes Fall.” The goofiest, most fun track, though, is “L.A. River.” Freeman returns to vocal duties to gargle out words like “boom shakalakalaka boom / shimmy shimmy shake shimmy shake shake shimmy.” It’s bad, but it’s fun, but it’s weird, but it’s good. Ya know? A good dumb party jam.

But maybe that’s the point of the album’s very existence. Armstrong swears “Let the bombs blow / I ain’t got control” on “Dominoes Fall.” A good chunk of the record consists of summer ska-punk jams meant to move feat over minds. But perhaps the moment comes from lead single “Last One to Die”: “You got it wrong / We’re still around.” For all the Clash comparisons, Let the Dominoes Fall fits into a different mold. It’s not Rancid’s Sandinista (That’s Life Won’t Wait) or London Calling (…And Out Come the Wolves) or Combat Rock (Indestructible). It’s really their Batman Begins, a faithful, exhilarating reboot that’s as much for a new generation of fans (2009’s latest high school mall punks) as it for older chumps like me and mine.

regarding The Raveonettes

Danish fuzz rockers - dare I call them shoegaze? DARE?! I?!?! - The Raveonettes promised to give away demos for their in-the-works new album via Twitter. Download the demos and post your thoughts. Right now you can d/l the first track of the experiment, "Last Dance," as well as sign up for e-mail updates about new songs.

While I'd rather just be surprised by the final product, I'm still pretty stoked to hear new Raveonettes material. I think their trio of EPs from last fall had their strongest songs to date; I can't wait to see where they go from here.

regarding Record Store Day

Record Store Day, easily one of my top five favorite holidays, is tomorrow. Indie stores are pulling out a bunch of awesome deals - Siren Records in Doylestown is having a massive vinyl sale, for example - and there are plenty of exclusives being issued. I'm looking forward to seven-inches from Camera Obscura and Flight of the Conchords. There have been a few bloggings about the event today, the best of which comes from Spin's Charles Aaron. Cut through the cynicism - this event is meant to take your money, make no mistake about it - and Record Store Day is a celebration of our bond with music, however tenuous and fluctuating it might be. Aaron's article taps into that joy, listing his favorite stores and memories and why in-store purchasing means connecting to people and art, something that's lost in the point-n-click approach of online shopping.

The hunt is part of the ecstasy, and while I'm a sucker for eBay as much as the next record nerd, I can't think of a better place to spend Record Store Day than at Repo Records on 538 South St. It's one of the first stores I ever fell in love with in high school, and while lesser favorites have passed on - Disc was too sketchy anyway, Spaceboy's clerks were dicks and liars, and my former employer Sam Goody was riddled with corporate tools - Repo has remained. When I moved to Philadelphia for college, Repo trips became a weekly occurrence. The clerks know who I am and what I like. They make recommendations, but don't get so uppity about it that I can't browse. I love the cozy feeling of walking past the shelves. The feel of musty vinyl in my hands. And I'm sure one day I'll even appreciate that guy who sits outside mangling Beatles, Deep Purple, and Jimi Hendrix tunes on guitar for change.

Convenience shouldn't be allowed to co-opt good aesthetics. Repo has a great Nick Hornby quote on their site:

"Yes, yes, I know. It's easier to download music, and probably cheaper. But what's playing on your favourite download store when you walk into it? Nothing, that's what. Who are you going to meet in there? Nobody. Where are the notice boards offering flatshares and vacant slots in bands destined for superstardom? Who's going to tell you to stop listening to that and start listening to this? Go ahead and save yourself a couple of quid. The saving will cost you a career, a set of cool friends, musical taste and, eventually, your soul. Record stores can't save your life. But they can give you a better one."

Repo has been my guiding light for underground music for about nine years now. They've operated in one form or another for over 20 years. Shopping there is always a pleasure, and unlike online ordering, I don't have to pay for shipping and handling or get ripped off on record quality. I like physical music over digital because it's physical; it hits all of my senses (well, minus taste. But man those Bowie covers are sexxxy...). And Repo is an extension of that.

And shopping local is American, got-dammit!

The Rentals - 'Story of a Thousand Seasons'

Part one of The Rentals’ proposed three part Songs About Time project dropped this month with The Story of a Thousand Seasons EP, and with it a preorder for the whole shebang. 2009 finds The Rentals at their slimmest – Jamie Black, Lauren Chipman, Dan Joeright, and Matt Sharp, with Pixies alum Joey Santiago guesting on “Song of Remembering,” are all that remain from the band’s reunion on 2007’s The Last Little Life EP. It’s fitting, in that Thousand Seasons is easily the most stripped down Rentals release. Mellow and pretty, it downplays most of The Rentals previous strengths. It’s not nearly as synth-driven and the melodies are colder. And yet, The Story of a Thousand Seasons works.

It opens with “Song of Remembering,” an electronic ditty that doubles as Songs About Time’s pseudo-mission statement. The project revolves around three areas – music, photos (Photographs About Days), and short films (Films About Weeks). The band is shooting/posting a film for every week, and frontman Matt Sharp is snapping shots for every day of the year. Chipman hits a fantastic hook over an electronic drum beat – “Not everyone moves beyond the past / Everything moves / But outside these photographs everything dies / Cycles of time / Everyone is passing, passing, passing, passing through.” It’s sad and mournful and obsessive and beautiful. Which is kind of like the overall project; it’s an attempt to catch and catalog as much of 2009 as possible. Which more or less correlates with the title track, which follows.

“Story of a Thousand Seasons Past” adds another layer to the first song’s recordkeeping. Among shining piano and violin lines, Sharp bemoans how “we have this technology to send apologies that swim inside our heads.” He believes that this instant availability devalues communication – and he’s kind of right, ya Facebook stalkers – and settles for writing all his thoughts down, to be read at another date, when he’s more removed from the experience.

“All I Have” reaffirms the EP’s obsession with records of any sort, this time harkening back to Last Little Life’s synth-y indie rock while recalling the seduction of city streets that was best captured on Seven More Minutes. It’s the dreamiest of the new tracks, and an excellent segue into the last song, “Seven Years,” which is darn right driving compared to the more ethereal previous material.

The Story of a Thousand Seasons takes a few listens to warm up. It’s colder and more understated compared to Return of The Rentals or Seven More Minutes, and the hooks are less obvious. But that’s what gives it distinction. This EP edges into territory The Rentals never fully embraced before – the electronic music, guitar squalls, and honest-to-gosh piano on “Song of Remembering” certainly stand out. Time will tell whether or not this is the new direction of Songs About Time or just one avenue. Check out therentals.com to stream/purchase the tunes on mp3, FLAC, or CD. The next chapter is due in August.

regarding The Rentals in 2009

So while I've been sitting around like a schmuck trying to think of something nice to say about the new Ace Enders album and secretly waiting for the follow-up to 2007's The Last Little Life EP, Moog enthusiats The Rentals have been busy planning an ambitious multimedia artistic statement for 2009. Check out www.therentals.com for some info about Songs About Time, a title which reflects both the subject matter and the fact that, yeah, it is about time the world got some new Matt Sharp jams. The project consists of three main parts:

1. Photographs About Days - 365 photographs plus one roll of undeveloped film shot each day by Matt Sharp.
2. Films About Weeks - 52 short films with music and scores exclusive to the films.
3. Songs About Time - three mini-albums to be released in April, July, and October as digital downloads.

You can score these beauts in three formats:

1. Digital download
-DRM-free mp3s
-music videos
-digital artwork and computer-y thingies like wallpaper, banners, and icons

2. Limited edition box set
-multiple 180 gram vinyl box set
-original artwork
-DVD video collection of Films About Weeks
-CDs o' music
-The whole is individually numbered and autographed by The Rentals

3. Limited deluxe edition (a.k.a. - The one I fucking want. 365 copies will be produced. Please don't let this be a Ghosts I-IV all over again. My heart can't take it.)
-All the stuff from the box set
-One undeveloped roll of 35MM film taken by Matt Sharp for the project.
-Two V.I.P. backstage passes to an upcoming Rentals show of your choice.
-More info to come April 7.

If you join the band's mailing list (click "Music Store" on the site), they'll send you a free song from the project, "Fall Into Eve," plus some photos. The song is a brief instrumental, but it sounds gorgeous. So uh... go download it. Now.

Rookie of the Year - 'Sweet Attention'

I finally found my guilty pleasure (other than kind of still liking Dashboard Confessional…), and its name is Rookie of the Year. Started as a side project for some guy named Ryan Dunson in 2002, Rookie of the Year is now a fully fledged band, with bass and drums and stuff. The band dropped Sweet Attention, its third full-length, this month, and its fusion of Joy Electric-like pop-techno and Daphne Loves Derby-esque emo is way catchier than I care to admit.

I’ll admit I listen to some fairly loathed bands (check the DC reference above). I spin Third Eye Blind a bit. The first two System of a Down records are OK. But Rookie of the Year marks a new, strange realm for me and my music fandom, because they ostensibly recall something I swore to destroy: nu-emo.

Sweet Attention kicks off with “Feel Like New,” and the comparison between Dunson’s vocals and those of Moog-advocate Ronnie Martin are strong. Smooth, kind of slithery, and just shy of hitting a nasally whine. The instruments aren’t too heavily important - the vox are key - although there is way more tambourine on this track than there needs to be. What sets Martin apart from the Secondhand Serenades and the Crash Romeos of the world, though, is that he actually knows how to write hooks. Rookie of the Year understands the meaning of a pop song.

While the second half of the album devolves into an indistinct electro-pop hodgepodge, I can find merit in the opening tracks. “Asleep With You” is as an adequate a pop rock song as anything else on VH1, and the same goes for numbers like “Falling From the Sky” and “What is Love,” which boasts cowbell. That’s noteworthy, right? I’ll give credit where it’s due, and say that Rookie of the Year ain’t that bad. Hell, maybe they’ll open for Maroon 5 sometime.

Real Space Noise - 'Radio Method'

Consisting of studio vet Chan Blinman and his buddy Steve Ashburn, Real Space Noise lives up to its name - They make really spacey noise. Electronic and pretty, their full-length Radio Method combines rock and electronic flourishes. But what kills the album off is the duo’s reliance on Blinman’s old recording buddies from Face to Face/Viva Death, Trevor Keith and Scott Shiflett, for vocals on almost half of the album. That’s not to say that they do a bad job; on the contrary, Keith and Shiflett do a better job fronting their respective RSN tracks than Blinman himself. In doing so, Keith and Shiflett upstage the main band.

The album has four lead singers divided among 12 tracks. Blinman helms six, Keith three, Shiflett two, and alt-indie singer Monica Richards closes out the album on the final track, “Quietus.” Blinman himself does a decent job, although his faux-British singing grows old halfway through tracks like “The New Machine Age” or “Sky Collector.” The music, at least, is still solid.

Electro beats and new wave ambiance are the hallmark of Radio Method. Described by the band’s website as having “themes of man’s relationship with technology, reason and faith, and the broken promise of the future,” Radio Method adds on cold computer programmed instrumentals accordingly. It’s at least as decent as Orgy’s techno-paranoid piece Vapor Transmission but when compared to the king of industrial terror, Trent Reznor, Blinman’s beats and obsessions don’t compare. The music lacks anger. Pretty Hate Machine without the “hate” just isn’t all that compelling.

There is some hope offered in the form of Trevor Keith, though. Not hope in the lyrical sense, because Keith’s contributions are just as chock full o’ loathing and nihilism as Blinman’s stuff. Keith has got years of experience belting out hits, though; his work with Face to Face yielded such seminal punk albums as Big Choice and Face to Face. His experimental (for a punk band) FtF album, Ignorance is Bliss, revealed that Keith could do more than just play three chords in a circle over and over. The same can be said for his new band, Viva Death, of which Blinman is also a member. Viva Death could also be described as rock/electronic, so Keith and Blinman’s work here doesn’t stray too far from that so much as check out the flip side. Viva Death rocks; Real Space Noise tries to groove.

Keith only sings on three tracks (”A Pleasant Confinement,” “Are You Uncomfortable?” and “The Quickening”), but they’re all classy cuts that are good enough to raise this album’s score a whole notch. “A Pleasant Confinement” starts off with the best audio sample of the whole album (”So maybe the moon is made of green cheese”) and quickly establishes itself as the best song on the album with its punchy drumming and sharp pace.

Radio Method is a decent experimental music release from Blinman and Ashburn. But at times, it feels more like just an experiment, and not enough like fully developed music. Blinman’s got a ton of punk credentials from recording Face to Face, The Get Up Kids, and Senses Fail, plus from his work with Viva Death. Real Space Noise feels like an attempt to break out of that mold, and while his efforts are amicable, they are far from “great.”

The Raveonettes - 'Lust Lust Lust'

Formed in 1984, Scottish group The Jesus and Mary Chain bridged the gap between new wave pop and dissonant guitar squalor with its first album, Psycho Candy. Formed in 2001, Dutch group The Raveonettes bridged the gap between JAMC and … well, that’s about it, really. It’s kind of blunt to call Raveonettes a Chain tribute band, but on the long-delayed-in-the-U.S. record Lust Lust Lust, it’s hard to say otherwise.

Not that The Raveonettes are bad. The group’s last album, Pretty in Black, was a wonderfully macabre take on ’50s surf rock. But on Lust Lust Lust, the duo of Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo has reverted to a more JAMC-based sound with diminished results. Less catchy, enveloping or even attention-grabbing than Pretty in Black, Lust Lust Lust craps out halfway through its murky 47 minutes of disinterested dissonance.

The record isn’t completely devoid of entertainment or originality, though. Album opener “Aly, Walk With Me” has a fuzzed out cool that swaggers like whoa. It’s nearly five minutes long, but never feels like it. The rolling drum beat and reverb-laden guitar make the tune a propulsive one. The group’s distorted pop also shines on cuts like “Hallucinations” and “Dead Sound.” Avid fans who already purchased an import of the disc might want to hit up the U.S. version, as it boasts two bonus tracks— “My Heartbeat’s Dying,” which is only OK, and “Honey, I Never Had You,” which has a start-stop earnestness never fully realized on the album’s core.

Most of Lust Lust Lust’s guitars are shrouded in reverb, making the hi-fi recording clarity sound like lo-fi noise. Where bands like JAMC, Sonic Youth or My Bloody Valentine could bend guitar noise into music, The Raveonettes cannot. Often, the dissonance covers up empty arrangements and lackluster lyrics. The group isn’t doing anything interesting here, and therefore isn’t doing anything memorable either. A good deal of Lust Lust Lust is an uncompelling blur.

Even blatant attempts at singles, like the overly precocious “You Want the Candy,” lack character. Still, though, compared to The Jesus and Mary Chain’s own third disc, the massively disappointing rock retread Automatic, one could say The Raveonettes have gotten more out of the classic JAMC sound than its own creators.

Rancid - 'B Sides and C Sides'

Fans looking forward to the long-delayed seventh album from California punk rockers Rancid have been given a reprieve of sorts this month. While the band’s new release, B Sides and C Sides, doesn’t include any new material, it does live up to its name, offering 21 fairly solid rarities. While it’s sometimes obvious why the songs were relegated to backing status, with a few of the tunes meaninglessly repeating their titles over and over for choruses, it’s hard to put down this compilation too much.

Fact is, it’s still a Rancid release. While the packaging is as basic as can be, with no liner notes to put the tracks in context, the disc is still expertly arranged. Instead of a chronological approach, the band opted to arrange the songs based on flow. Even though the recording dates cover a decade (1993-2003), the record still feels like your average Rancid disc. Opening cut “Ben Zanotto,” originally from the “Let Me Go” single, kicks off with punky pacing and melody. While it’s a bit light on lyrics, the band compensates with some catchy “na na nas.” Track two, “Stop,” aims more for the ska spectrum, and it’s between these two styles that most of B Sides oscillates.

Not that there aren’t any surprises. “Devil’s Dance” has a rockabilly vibe reminiscent of The Blasters or The Stray Cats. It’s rare for the band to record a softer track without any dub influence, but “Devil’s Dance” is just that. While Rancid never experimented quite as much as its idol, The Clash, B Sides and C Sides at least reveals the act’s dedication to such an ideal.

Mostly, though, these B-sides mirror the singles/albums they come from. The reggae of “Things to Come” synchs up beautifully with what made it onto Life Won’t Wait. Meanwhile, cuts like “Dead and Gone” (featuring everyone’s favorite frog-throated singer, Matt Freeman) and “Sick Sick World” have the same no-frills approach to songwriting as Rancid 2000 did. Finally, there’s the classic Rancid sound, a compromise between searing punk riffs and eclectic world music, like on “Roots Radical” B-side “I Wanna Riot.”

So here’s the gist: If you’ve stuck with the band through each of its phases, or just don’t feel like picking up most of the singles, imports, compilations and soundtracks Rancid has been on, you’ll be pleased to see how they all come together on B Sides and C Sides.

RAINN Day 2007

[Note: Not a music article, but one that I'm proud of. Definitely in my top 10.]

Every two-and-a-half minutes, someone, somewhere, is raped, according to the Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network. College-aged students are four times as likely to be sexually assaulted as any other age group, with about 44 percent of rape victims being under 18-years-old, and 80 percent under 30. According to a survey conducted by the National Institute of Justice and Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, one in six American women and one in 33 men are victims of attempted or completed rape in their lifetimes. In an effort to educate and empower people, RAINN, the nation’s largest anti-sexual assault organization, has organized RAINN Day, an event held Sept. 27, for high school and college campuses. By providing statistics, as well as information about the National Sexual Assault Hotline, students can protect themselves.

I will be one of the students participating in RAINN Day in the Union Sept. 27 because, obviously, I think sexual abuse is immoral. But it goes deeper than that, because someone I care about has been raped, and I would never wish her experience on anyone.

“It’s fascinating how easily you can be victimized,” my friend, who wishes to remain anonymous, told me. “I was a wealthy, educated, vivacious teenager. I was stubborn, didn’t take orders or crap from anyone and a little rebellious. But, like most people, I was also very naive.”

After initially being drawn to a boy in high school, my friend found herself in a scary situation. While early dates with this boy were fun, in time he “kept turning more rough and violent,” she said.

“As I saw this, I started trying to back out of the situation. He eventually threatened me with a gun, telling me he didn’t care how rich and powerful my father was, he would kill him if I said anything. That immediately stripped me of any control I thought I had… he threatened the most important and powerful figure in my life. And when he said it, I believed it,” she said.

One night, this boy tried to rape my friend. While he did not have time to penetrate her, he did rough her up a bit, and she was just barely saved by a friend.

“After I went through that, my world seemed to be turned upside down. [Before that,] I was really close to and communicative with my parents,” she said. “But, it was something I could not bear to tell them because I was terrified and ashamed. They couldn’t figure out what had changed me so dramatically, and thought that I was just ‘being a teenager.’ It ruins your self-image and your trust in others.”

Introduced to RAINN through a Tori Amos benefit CD, my friend found solace.

“I felt like I could at least make a difference with other girls and help other victims of sexual assault. I stopped feeling so alone through reading about what other people had been through,” she said. RAINN’s hotline, 800-656-HOPE, is open 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Many rape victims can suffer from Post-traumatic Stress Disorder, withdraw from society and sink into depression. My friend was not alone in her inability to open up to her parents. But with the National Sexual Assault Hotline, victims can talk about their experiences through the protection of anonymity.

RAINN’s goals are to promote awareness, prevent sexual assault, help victims and bring rapists to justice. Hopefully, through events like RAINN Day, people will be better protected. If nothing else, those who are victimized can have an outlet. You never know who can be assaulted. My sister and her friends are only a few weeks into their freshman year of college, and one of them has already been raped. Every two-and-a-half minutes.

Rilo Kiley - 'Under the Blacklight'

A lifetime spent working in the corporate world has left my father, whom I love very, very much, with an affinity for catch phrases. “Trust no one” and “Attack, attack, attack” have always been popular. His new one is “May 11, 2008,” which just so happens to be my scheduled graduation date. It is often repeated to me with extreme assertiveness. Every day. Another one is “Get focused,” which is just what he would say if he could arrange an inspirational power chat with the members of Rilo Kiley to discuss what went wrong with their new album, Under the Blacklight.

About a year-and-a-half after solo joints from lead singers Jenny Lewis (the overrated Rabbit Fur Coat) and Blake “Joey the Rat” Sennett (the mostly ignored Sun, Sun, Sun) were released, Under the Black Light arrives to bring everybody back together, only to push ‘em away with tepid slow jams, ’70s Fleetwood Mac-ripped riffs and really annoying lyrics about sex.

Up until now, Rilo Kiley has had an interesting dynamic: Lewis brings the sultry vocals and lyrics, Sennett provides the ridiculously awesome guitar solos and occasional cute tune about being sad and the rest of the band country rocks its way towards euphoria. But 2006 brought Lewis solo recognition, and that elevation gave her the confidence to write most of BlacklightRabbit Fur CoatMore Adventurous. before even presenting it to the band. The result exists more like a sequel to than it is to Rilo Kiley’s last album,

Lewis has always been essential to the Rilo Kiley sound, but now she is the very thing that damns it. Her voice is still great, but her songwriting has become obsessed with trite tales of illicit affairs. “15” tells the story of a teenage girl hooking up with an older man, and its sexual content is breathtakingly stupid. The same goes for “Smoke Detector,” a ’60s garage rock tune about a dance move and “smoking” a man in bed. It’s not particularly interesting or catchy. But at least it doesn’t hurt as bad as the pseudo-rapping of “Dejalo.”

The worst song of this batch, however, is lead single “The Moneymaker.” It burns the soul more because it is so terribly close to being incredible. Featuring excellent pounding drums from Jason Boesel and unquestionably the most deliciously funky bass line from any R.K. song ever, “The Moneymaker” is undone only because of Lewis’ repetitive lyrics. Utilizing the word “moneymaker” roughly 955 times [Note: I am not good at math], the song blueballs listeners with its inane monotony. But man is that bass line sweet.

There is a silver lining here, though, and I do mean that literally. Album opener “Silver Lining” delivers some of Lewis’ best countrified soul, proving that maybe she had a good idea to go with all that horrible execution. There’s also the dreamy instrumentation of “Close Call” and “Under the Black Light” to enchant. And of course, the always mildly reliable Sennett delivers a similarly ethereal standout with “Dreamworld.”

If anything, Under the Blacklight proves that Lewis and Sennett need each other as songwriting partners. Maybe she’ll get him to hate himself less, and he’ll give her some slick guitar parts to go with her adultery tirades, a la “Does He Love You?.” Then, maybe Rilo Kiley could stop pumping out Fleetwood Mac sewage and instead raise heck like Janis Joplin. Father would be proud.

The Rentals live August 25, 2007

For better and worse, we seem to be in the middle of a ’90s music renaissance. There have been incredible albums from acts like Nine Inch Nails and Tori Amos this year; but then again, there was also Smashing Pumpkins flaccid Zeitgeist. Another ’90s stalwart, The Rentals, has returned to form in 2007 and, thankfully, is every bit as ridiculously catchy as in 1995. A predecessor to current acts like Motion City Soundtrack, Hellogoodbye and Zolof the Rock and Roll Destroyer, it was great to have these Moog pioneers in the TLA Aug. 25 with Copeland, Goldenboy and Pepper’s Ghost. While the venue was less than half-full, those who did make it out were so emphatic that it felt as if the venue had been oversold.

First up was Pepper’s Ghost. These guys opened for Ashlee Simpson once.

Next up was California’s Goldenboy, aka Shon Sullivan. If nothing else, this band deserves credit for organizing this tour with The Rentals. Like a far mellower version of Psychedelic Furs, Goldenboy enchanted the enthused crowd. Sullivan has a great voice; it’s smooth and sultry and complements the moodiness of his band’s music well.

Following Goldenboy was Copeland, a band that received hearty applause from the bar area upon taking the stage. Not to harsh on anyone’s buzz, but Copeland is for people who find Keane to be “edgy.” When Copeland beat my skull repeatedly with the phrase “you’re freaking me out,” from “Control Freak,” a part of my soul was torn away and fed to ghost dogs.

Just to clarify, Keane and Copeland are trite piano-based bands who crank out suffocating melodrama way more than anyone with a sense of goodness should/could allow.

These three opening bands all seemed out of place paired with The Rentals (or maybe the other way around). The poor songwriting quality of Copeland and Pepper’s Ghost aside, all three were inappropriate for a bill topped by The Rentals and their synth-y power pop. Even Goldenboy, as neat as it sounded, was too subdued for such an act. But once The Rentals came out, nothing else mattered.

Featuring, at one point or another, members of Weezer, Blur, Elastica, that dog., Nerf Herder, Saturday Night Live, Lucy Loves Schroeder and roughly a thousand other acts, The Rentals have gone through quite a few members. The 2007 model consists of central figure Matt Sharp, as well as Rachel Haden, Sara Radle, Ben Pringle, Lauren Chapman, Dan Joeright and Goldenboy’s Sullivan.

Opening with The Return of The Rentals’ “The Love I’m Searching For,” Sharp was a spastic blur of epic proportions. Holding him together was the smooth vocal trio consisting of Haden, Radle and Chapman. With only two full-lengths and an EP to their credit, The Rentals gave the gift of no filler to fans, serving up power pop greatness over and over. As great as Return of The Rentals is to hear on CD, tunes like “Move On,” “These Days,” “Friends of P.” and “Please Let That Be You” sound even better live, more lush and rocking.

The criminally underappreciated Seven More Minutes also got some airtime, courtesy of shoulda-been hits like “Barcelona” and “Man With Two Brains.” The real surprises though, were to be found elsewhere.

Sprinkled throughout the set were tracks from the band’s new The Last Little Life EP, and, hey, they don’t suck. In fact, they’re every bit as catchy as The Rentals’ ’90s output, and serve as a solid hype-machine for the group’s upcoming full-length. New tuneskis “The Last Romantic Day,” “Little Bit of You in Everything” and “Life Without a Brain” preserve and expand on the group’s legacy quite well. Also included both in the set and on the EP is a reworking of “Sweetness and Tenderness,” originally from the first album, now more in keeping with the style represented by Goldenboy. It’s the same old song, just good in a different way.

The real shocker, though, was when The Rentals played a Weezer song. Haden took over on lead vocals for “I Just Threw Out the Love of My Dreams,” from The Good Life EP. Dorktastically incredible, it was quite possibly the closest I will come to hearing Weezer live without being disappointed. Finally, the encore closer “Waiting” was just a generally rocking moment in music history.

Overall, The Rentals proved to be one of the best live acts of 2007. Their energy, voices and conviction never wavered. Sharp rocked furiously, like a modern day Elvis Costello, a description made all the more accurate after a fan handed him a pork pie hat which complemented his black glasses.

Even better, the guy is humble, taking the time to thank the audience, sound guy, The Rentals’ merch guy and Sullivan for making the night happen. If this set is any indication, the fall release of The Rentals’ third full-length is going to rule, combining slick melodies with lush sounding piano, Moog, guitar, violin, xylophone, bass, tambourine and whatever else pops into Sharp and Co.’s delirious minds.

Regina Spektor live April 15, 2006

Good luck seeing Regina in a small venue, suckaz. I met her after she opened for Dresden Dolls; she's neat yet skittish.

The Theater of Living Arts’ stage saw two fairly classy-yet-sassy female singer/songwriters, Regina Spektor and Jenny Own Youngs, on Saturday, April 15. The artists played to a sold-out, enthusiastic crowd, which is extra-amazing given how hard it can be for a solo artist, sans a backing band, to entertain and hold the attention of large, inebriated groups.

First up was the folk-ish Youngs, clad in a sweater and many, many layers of sarcasm. She plugged in her acoustic guitar, spouted some jokes about taking off her pants in exchange for applause, and then began plucking and strumming in a determined and nervous fashion. The seriousness of songs like “Fuck was I” and “Voice on Tape” was palpable and moving, while the between-song banter was hilarious. Talking feverishly like Natalie Portman in Garden State, all half-formed semi-comical thoughts and random observations, Youngs was just as entertaining while speaking as she was singing.

It’s pretty daunting to play in front of hundreds of people by one’s self, but Youngs handled heckles and cat calls with the greatest of brazen attitude. Her voice has a smoky Cat Power-ish vibe to it, while her self-deprecating humor recalls that of New Pornographer alum Neko Case. After about 35 minutes of acoustic rocking and soul-searching (and one stripped cover of Kelly Clarkson’s mega-hit “Since U Been Gone”), Youngs stepped off the stage and went to her merch table to greet fans.

A nearly insurmountable 25-minute wait (crowds want instant gratification, and they clearly want it now, clam flammit!) slowly slid across before headliner, underground favorite [note: was true at the time] and all-around nice gal Regina Spektor came out. Looking surprisingly (or maybe fittingly) like Tori Amos that night, she walked passed her piano in favor of a lone microphone off to the side. She began singing “Ain’t No Cover” a cappella, showing off her voice’s flexibility. It can be cutesy and sugary sweet, or full, soulful and omnipotent (no, really). It can also be completely weird and out of key on purpose, as if to keep listeners from taking anything Spektor might do too seriously.

This is only sort of a shame, as she’s got a great voice, but it does add to the overall quality of a Regina Spektor show. While Youngs seperates her show into funny conversation and serious songwriting, Spektor combines everything into one consistent, emotionally multifaceted experience with coy demeanor. Even her lyrics can jump from melodramatic to playfully nonsensical and back.

Anyway, “Ain’t No Cover” was really good, and Spektor even tapped her fingers on the mic for percussion. That’s another interesting thing about her shows: she’s only one person, but she manages to incorporate so many bits of drumming, beat boxing and remixing (she’s really proficient with her voice).

Spektor then hopped on her piano bench and went into “Carbon Monoxide,” off of the Sire release Soviet Kitsch, to the crowd’s growing delight. This was followed up with some rarities, like “Prisoners,” and the Shakespeare-referencing “Pound of Flesh.”

The rest of the night was full of songs from Soviet Kitsch, the self-released Songs and a whole slew of unreleased tunes from Spektor’s secret canon. Popular songs like “The Flowers,” “Us” and regular set closer “Ghost of Corporate Future” all went by sweetly and pleasingly. But it was Spektor’s surprises that really wowed the audience, like her brief burst of guitar work on the comical “Bobbing for Apples” and “That Time,” which audibly astounded many first-time Spektor concertgoers. She also played a chair for “Poor Little Rich Boy.” Yeah, it was pretty cool.

After concluding her regular set, Spektor came out about 10 seconds later for an encore of more obscurities, much to the joy of intense and casual fans alike. “Music Box” and “Summer in the City” went by deliciously. But it was her last song of the night that really came out of nowhere: the five-minute, mostly rapped “Consequence of Sounds.” Using her piano keys, thigh and hand, Spektor created her own makeshift drum machine. She’s got great pipes and piano playing skills, but it’s these random moments of minimalist instrumentation that give her live show a little extra something.

Having finished her last song, Spektor walked off the stage to rapturous applause. Fans went to their cars, enveloped in a mix of warm spring air and the playful vibes of Youngs and Spektor. Spektor’s new album, Begin to Hope, will be out in June on Sire Records.