Banner Pilot - 'Heart Beats Pacific'

With the breakout success of their 2009 effort, Collapser, Minnesotan act Banner Pilot has a lot riding on LP #3. Like their labelmates the Flatliners, the band seems poised for bigger things. These expectations make the group’s follow-up to Collapser, Heart Beats Pacific, something of a disappointment at first, to the extent that it’s a predictable follow-up. For all the Jawbreaker comparisons that follow frontman Nick Johnson’s lyrics, the band has yet to approach that band’s level of stylistic experimentation. At the same time, though, it’s hard to get mad at the band for refining what made Collapser so good. I mean, have you heard that record? It made me choose life.

By the band’s own admission, Pacific is a safe move. It takes everything Collapser did well – the introspective lyrics and the infectious, snotty hooks – and goes bigger. Johnson sounds more assured here. The guitars are denser, heavier and generally more interesting. The production in general is straight up better, clean enough that all of the instruments come through without glossing everything over in studio cheese. One way the band earns their Jawbreaker comparisons is by letting Nate Gangelhoff’s bass anchor so many of the tunes (Also, the intro to “Isolani” sounds like something off of Dear You. Who’s with me?).

Heart Beats Pacific is a really good Midwestern punk record. It’s up there with Dillinger Four’s greatest hits. Sure, it sounds like a bevy of other Midwest bands like Dear Landlord and Off With Their Heads (who, coincidentally, have borrowed Gangelhoff on occasion), but it’s better. It’s in the way the songs bounce effortlessly, constantly propelled by desire and winter despair. It also helps that the guys are good songwriters.

Take “Eraser” for example. It’s a song about drankin’ and missing someone something fierce. A fairly common topic for the punk set, but Johnson injects so much empathy into the track that it defies what’s come before. The whole song is lush with imagery, but lines like “Nothing changes but the time” and “I’m finding out I don’t do very well alone / But I know that you’re not coming home” hit hard. I don’t care if you’re straight edge, this one goes for the heart. In the great pop-punk tradition, it’s also catchy as hell despite being pretty darn depressing.

The last few years have been good for Banner Pilot. Collapser rocked faces, the 2010 remaster job on Resignation Day proved it was actually a great record all along and now fans have Heart Beats Pacific to memorize. Yeah, all three repeat the same style. But it’s a good one.

Wild Flag at Union Transfer.

It was a night for new beginnings in Philadelphia Wed., Oct. 19, as indie rock supergroup Wild Flag and a new band from Fiery Furnaces member Eleanor Friedberger cut loose on a crowd gathered at the month-old venue Union Transfer. For all the newness, though, it ended up being a night for older classic sounds. Either way, it was a good show.

Union Transfer, a new 600-capacity venue located in the old Spaghetti Warehouse on 10th and Spring Garden, is a joint partnership from Philly locals R5 Productions and Four Corners Management and New York City group Bowery Presents. In other words, no Live Nation, and that’s a good thing. The space has tons of room to move, but it’s not so large that it kills intimacy. There’s plenty room for drunks at the bars. Hell, there’s a bar in a whole other room, so hopefully people who come to concerts just to drink can get their fill without pissing off other attendees. The sound is a little dubious – muddled and bass-heavy – but that’s pretty much standard for a venue this size. Union Transfer is still independent and pretty cool. Also, they have a reasonably priced parking lot.

I had plenty of time to note Union Transfer’s layout (three bars!), as Friedberger took the stage about 50 minutes after her advertised start time. Supported by an ace backing band, she played through some easy going soft tunes that bordered on the Fleetwood Mac side of the rock ‘n’ roll spectrum. When the band got to grooving, the tunes were actually quite beautiful, but after a while Friedberger’s songs kind of blurred together for me. She has a tendency to repeat phrases just a little too much (“It’s a critical year / 2010” comes to mind), and several tunes felt too slow. While her latest material has a ’70s vibe, it still felt like an odd choice for pairing with Wild Flag’s looser, louder tendencies.

While there are still some records to look forward to this year, Wild Flag is easily one of the best albums of 2011. It’s fun and loud and awesome. Yet Wild Flag’s live show puts that record to shame. Everything Wild Flag does well in the studio, they do even better live. When Carrie Brownstein, Rebecca Cole, Mary Timony and Janet Weiss came on stage, they proceeded to have a whole lot of fun for 60-plus minutes while rocking faces off. Their tunes were more psychedelic, complemented by all manner of guitar poses ranging from high kicks to windmills. Timony even played behind her head at one point. Weiss and Cole’s cooed backing vocals were spot on throughout. The stage banter was hilarious (“There are so many steps to a stage dive, and they all end in the hospital,” said Brownstein. “This is like a Fugazi show,” responded Dischord alumnus Timony).

With only one 40-minute full-length to their credit, the biggest challenge the fearsome foursome faced in headlining this show was filling time. They certainly met that challenge head on with stage banter, covers (including an excellent take on Television’s “See No Evil” during the two-song encore) and a couple of new tracks. They also jammed the dickens out of the tunes “Glass Tambourine” and “Racehorse.” I wasn’t tracking it, but I’m pretty sure “Racehorse” went on for at least 15 minutes. There were like five guitar solos. The recorded version is just under seven minutes, and it actually sounds a little empty to me now, simply because the band so thoroughly explored its every nook and/or cranny live. Yet for all its freewheeling, rambling quality, “Racehorse” came off as a tightly written piece, with the members locked into each other the whole time. Yeah, it was a long-ass song, but it was a good one, building up and releasing tension several times over. Simply put, the Wild Flag tour needs to be seen by all. The gals are funny and furious in equal measure, and the tunes deliver some fine psychedelia.

Deleted Scenes - 'Young People's Church of the Air'

With their jittery dance rhythms, Washington, D.C.’s Deleted Scenes recall classic punk acts like XTC and Talking Heads. In application, they recall local heroes like Dismemberment Plan and even contemporary dance outfit High Places. A handful of their songs even recall early Arcade Fire. Pick whichever comparison gets you to start listening. The group’s new album, Young People’s Church of the Air, is a hypnotic, lushly arranged record, eminently danceable yet constantly shifting.

“A Litany for Mrs. T” opens the record with soft noise and coos before drummer Brian Hospital shifts the song into something more propulsive. Each member of Deleted Scenes adds an important element to the songs, but it’s Hospital’s drumming that really decides where a song is going. “A Litany” has certain shoegaze elements – the atmospheric guitar work, the blurred and blended vocals – and these things become more pronounced on track two, “The Days of Adderall.” At the same time, the song adds in more world music rhythms, as if Young People’s was the belated shoegaze response to Graceland.

Generally speaking, the album is a swirling, catchy mess. But from track to track, the band shifts gears as they see fit. “A Bunch of People Who Loved You Like Crazy” opts for heavy layers of noise before abruptly switching to the sleepy acoustic number “Nassau.” At just 39 minutes in length, the record feels epic in scope but still wraps up neatly without overplaying any one style. Still, the most successful tracks are the most danceable. That includes “Burglarizing the Deaf,” given a prime spot on the record by kicking up the energy after chilling out with “Nassau” for a while. “English as a Second Language” has it all though, a funky electronic beat, a catchy chorus and an explosive outro. That one’s “the hit.”

Young People’s is just Deleted Scenes’ second album, but it has such an enticing atmosphere to it by blending together post-punk and shoegaze with indie rock. There’s not a single dud among the 11 tracks. Live, the songs transform to an epic electrical burst. Here, they have a little more nuance, playing up quieter elements and building more tension. Regardless of the volume, though, the tunes are solid.

Maritime and The Life and Times at Johnny Brenda's

With a spiffy new record out this year, Maritime came to Johnny Brenda’s in Philadelphia Oct. 13 with three goals: Drink some beers, talk about baseball and maybe play the occasional song. The guys were hilarious throughout their hour-plus set, and they even brought along some solid openers in Deleted Scenes and The Life and Times.

First though, the crowd had to get through an awkward bonus set from Victor Villarreal (ex-Cap’n Jazz/Joan of Arc). Villarreal was gearing up for a tour of his own, so he opted to test out some new material with just an acoustic guitar and a tambourine. While his guitar playing was both proficient and often beautiful, Villarreal’s unfamiliarity with his own songs led to a lot of weird stops/starts while he tried to play along with his notebook. People never quite knew when to clap. Dude trotted out a solid cover of Peter Gabriel’s “Solsbury Hill,” though.

Up-and-comers Deleted Scenes kicked things up a notch though. Spastic and electrifying a la XTC and Dismemberment Plan, the band tore at their instruments with a terrifying urgency. Everyone in this band is really good at what they do. Drummer Brian Hospital dropped insane beats with force; the guy really didn’t even need to be miked. Bassist Matt Dowling took on extra duties with back-up vox and keyboards, while Dominic Campanaro opted for just keys ‘n’ guitar. Then there was Daniel Scheuerman. Scheuerman’s guitar playing had a percussive feel to it that gave the group’s indie dance rock some extra grit. As a vocalist, he wasn’t afraid to shriek or cry out in a childlike voice before dropping to a bark. Deleted Scenes took me by surprise and made me a fan of their new record, Young People’s Church of the Air.

To be honest, I wasn’t too keen on The Life and Times. After listening to Deleted Scenes’ angular tunes, TLAT came off as robotic post-rock. Drummer Chris Metcalf sported a Russian Circles shirt, and it’s clear that group is an influence. But the crowd really, really liked them. A couple of people were air drumming. Even more people were head bobbing in unison as the band sliced through one pseudo-shoegaze/indie rock tune after another.

When I think of Maritime, I think lush, atmospheric pop rock. Perhaps inspired by the openers, Maritime instead brought the rock hard. They kicked off their set with “For Science Fiction,” off of 2007’s Heresy and the Hotel Choir, and from then on out they just kept ripping through numbers from across their discography. With the exception of “The Window is the Door” during the encore, the band rarely let up. Frontman Davey von Bohlen was constantly dancing on stage, while drummer/keyboardist Dan Didier amped up the tunes a couple of notches.

They were just as entertaining in between songs, though. von Bohlen has been in a ton of bands (The Promise Ring, Cap’n Jazz, Vermont), so he’s got experience working crowds. He told jokes and stories while tuning, whether it was discussing the pros and cons of Paul Simon playing “Cecilia” twice in a row live or just dropping baseball commentary. He was also a good listener as well; when a fan called out for “Annihilation Eyes,” off the group’s stellar latest album Human Hearts, von Bohlen chucked the setlist and delivered.

Personally, I was most stoked to hear new material like “It’s Casual” and “Air Arizona” live, although the crowd also went off for older tunes like “Guns of Navarone.” After a 60-minute set and three-song encore, Maritime bowed out to applause and (presumably) more beers ‘n’ baseball.

Dum Dum Girls - 'Only in Dreams'

Did… did Dum Dum Girls just make a rockabilly record? Turns out if you scrub off all that lo-fi dirt and add a dash of confidence, DDG was a completely different band altogether. Of course, their taste in producers should have been a clue, as ’60s songwriter Richard Gottehrer and Raveonettes mastermind Sune Rose Wagner are certainly kindred spirits. The preview EP He Gets Me High was another hint. Still, hearing a record go this huge is surprising, and a welcome shift.

Only in Dreams keeps a few of the things that worked on the Girls’ full-length debut, I Will Be, like the haunting vox, searing guitar noise and straightforward music, and drops the rest. The lo-fi hiding is gone. Everything is out in the open and shimmering. This has some drawbacks, as mastermind Kristen “Dee Dee” Gundred’s songs do get repetitive. The worst offender here would be track three, “Just a Creep,” which has little going on beyond repeating the song title and a guitar lick over and over and over. In fact, I think the band only uses like three or four drum beats on the entire record.

But what Dum Dum Girls gain in this trade is far greater. Turns out Gundred has got an amazing set of pipes, and hearing her cut loose on cuts like “Always Looking” or “In My Head” is stunning. Who knew she could cut loose like Neko Case? Just as effective are her ballads; “Hold Your Hand” hits right in the heart. Either way, fans get gorgeous pop songs about missing somebody something fierce. Those poor folks missing the band’s noisier elements should be appeased by cuts like “Teardrops on My Pillow” and “Heartbeat,” though.

While the record is still a couple of cuts short of perfection, Only in Dreams is still a massive improvement over I Will Be, and hopefully a sign of even greater things to come. Between this and He Gets Me High, Dum Dum Girls have a stellar year, one full of reinvention and great tunes.

Tin Armor - 'Life of Abundance'

Blame it on Elvis Costello; ever since Almost Blue, every indie band sooner or later takes a stab at country music. Fortunately, Tin Armor’s alt-country direction on Life of Abundance suits the band quite well. Striking a balance between Wilco’s songwriting and Jackson Browne’s melodies, Life of Abundance is an easy, fun listen.

The title track opens the album on a somber note, however. Over plaintive piano, vocalists John and Matt Umland let out a soulful song about getting by. It’s a beautiful tune bordering on gospel, and kind of a daring way to kick off a rock record. The rest of Abundance is more solidly in the country-rock vein, as track two, “Plain Limbs,” proves. Guitars kick in full force and the drums up the ante, recalling the more energetic tunes from Being There like “Monday.”

As a whole, Life of Abundance is a solid record, but it is a little on the inconsistent side. “Inside Days” and “Just So I Know It,” for example, meander a little bit into the formulaic side. Still, I get the feeling these tunes sound electric live. Especially tracks like “Shake Up” and “Silhouettes” sound like they could be jammed out and explored in full in a concert setting.

Alt-country often falls into the “dad rock” category, and I’m sure my trotting out a Jackson Browne comparison isn’t doing the genre any favors here, but Tin Armor has shown remarkable growth by reaching further back into the music canon. Life of Abundance has the same calming vibes of many a ’70s singer/songwriter record, but it knows enough to ratchet up the energy on occasion too.

New Found Glory - 'Radiosurgery'

At this point, New Found Glory has become a pop-punk institution. They’ve been cranking out tunes about girls and break-ups for over a decade now. They’ve survived the major label death machine. If you get to open for them, you’ve made it. Which is why I’m not so crestfallen by Radiosurgery, the band’s seventh (!!!) studio record. A supposed concept album about the different emotions one goes through during a break-up (I thought that was all of their albums?), Radiosurgery is the second worst NFG record to date, behind the ill-advised pop rock effort Coming Home.

But for a while, it doesn’t seem that way. The first half of Radiosurgery is loaded with bangers sure to go over well live. “Radiosurgery” has a clunker of a chorus lyrically (“I can’t get your face out of my head / It makes my brain hurt”?), but it’s still super catchy. “Anthem For the Unwanted” is loaded with “whoas,” a pop-punk cornerstone, while “Drill It In My Brain” opts for handclaps instead. “I’m Not the One” is standard NFG fare, but it’s still bouncy and fun. “Ready, Aim, Fire!” has an awesome opening guitar riff with a slight Celtic rock quality to it, which is kind of random for NFG, but any artistic growth is better than none.

Then the record just sort of collapses in on itself. “Dumped” tries to get by on “whoas” again, but I only have so many “whoas” to give. Then the record enters creepster territory. “Summer Fling, Don’t Mean a Thing” is a bitter break-up tune directed towards a lady with casual dating preferences. “Caught in the Act,” featuring Bethany Cosentino from Best Coast, flips that bitterness towards desperation. “I’m caught in the act / But for tonight let’s do something that we’re gonna regret” goes the chorus (Is it sex? I think it’s about sex!). There’s something creepy about a band of guys in their early 30s singing this song to crowds likely half their age. Someone save the children.

After another three ho-hum tracks, Radiosurgery mercifully ends. There are enough worthy additions to the band’s live set, but as a whole, it’s a pretty uneven record. What listeners get here is essentially two EPs. One of them is solid (the record’s first half); one of them is embarrassing (the second half).

Plow United - 'Sleepwalk: A Retrospective'

Plow United’s Sleepwalk: A Retrospective is a gift. It combines the band’s three full-lengths with choice rarities and one unreleased song to form a flawless, 34-track compilation. For people just know learning about the seminal Delaware pop-punk group, it’s essential one-stop shopping.

Formed in 1992, Plow United was one of a slew of ’90s punk bands that meant a whole lot to a quite a few people despite a brief run. Their three albums – Plow United, Goodnight Sellout and Narcolepsy – dealt in stellar drumming, distorted guitars and enthusiastically snotty vox. But the band broke up in 1998 just a few years before the Internet made getting exposure for a DIY punk band a whole lot easier. Their releases became legends; per the liner notes for this deluxe re-release, “Now stop selling our records for $70 on eBay.” While they never quite carried the influence of, say, Discount or Avail, Plow United still meant something to a core faithful. With the release of Sleepwalk, it all becomes so obvious why.

There have been bands that I liked casually, that took me years to really dig into, that didn’t quite click for me until I hit a certain age. Then there have been bands that just caught me at the right moment, that made sense in the now, that made me question why I bothered listening to other acts at all. Plow United falls into the latter category. After witnessing the group’s Riot Fest East reunion set, I needed to consume as much recorded material as possible. The songs were that fun.

Of the 34 cuts collected on Sleepwalk, only three surpass the two-minute mark. Plow United did not fuck around when it came to songwriting. The trio of Brian McGee, Sean Rule and Joel Tannenbaum played as fast as they could. The vocals could get pitchy but they were always passionate and hooky regardless. Their output recalls Gilman St. pop-punk a la Mr. T Experience or early Green Day circa the ’90s, but faster and with better drumming. On a more contemporary level, Plow United isn’t quite as different from Iron Chic as one might think.

Track one, “Tour Guide at the Alamo,” is kind of a novelty song at 18 seconds in length, but track two, “Spindle,” is pretty much all you need to hear in order to understand and crave Plow United. Listeners get heartbreak, nasally vocals and propulsive drums condensed into 109 seconds. There are catchier songs for sure – “Reason” and “Dance” pack huge choruses – but “Spindle” is one of those “oh shit I get it now” songs. Yes, there have been tons of pop-punk bands over the years. But Plow United cuts to the essentials. The songs are fast ‘n’ fun. That they’re collected on one shiny compact disc is a nice bonus.

How Do We Jump This High? - 'Funny/Not Funny'

With a melodic punk bent akin to Bridge and Tunnel and Latterman, How Do We Jump This High? packs four pretty darn fun songs into their new seven-inch Funny/Not Funny despite some bummer lyrics. While the musicians add in the occasional post-hardcore flourish, for the most part, this is catchy not-quite-pop-punk bordering on ’90s emo.

“En Route” kicks off the seven-inch with a rousing round of regret. Turns out the narrator misses somebody something fierce, but the chorus begs for some gang vox live. So hey, take it easy guy. “Potential” is more sad sackery, this time reflecting on a town that’s slowly dying near the end of a year. It gets a little maudlin at times – “I’m indicted for everything I gave up on” – but there’s still a driving drum beat and throaty vox to carry the song along.

The B-side offers two more songs in a similar fashion. “The Greats” is about missing someone (again) and “Migraines” is about being disappointed in oneself (again). Clearly, Funny/Not Funny is the feel-good hit of the year. But then, the name should let you know that. How Do We Jump This High? The answer is moon shoes.

SWTHRT - 'Compact Disc'

Fresh from the ashes of my beloved Museum Mouth comes SWTHRT, band of a thousand pronunciations. Perhaps it means “Sweaty Hurts,” which I think is a sex thing. Maybe it’s an initialism for “South West Tammy Has Ripe Tomatoes,” which I think might also be a sex thing.

Or maybe it’s “Sweatshirt” and they just left out the second “s” to keep their logo even-lettered, but that seems too obvious.

Having done the whole punk rock by way of Lemuria with Museum Mouth, guitarist/vocalist/drummer/bassist Karl Kuehn has now moved on to post-punk with SWTHRT’s Compact Disc, aided by keyboardist Becca High. Some of Museum Mouth’s elements carry over, like the grainy, dry production style, but generally speaking, this is a whole new sound for Kuehn. Here, he cultivates some serious Joy Division/Cure circa Faith/Seventeen Seconds worship.

“Good Omens” opens the record with a sparse bassline a la “A Forest” before High brings in a bright keyboard line. The result is akin to a more lo-fi Pains of Being Pure at Heart, although with less adenoidal vocals. At only 26 minutes in length, Compact Disc doesn’t have much room for expanding beyond the formula “Good Omens” sets, although there are glimmers of shoegaze in tunes like “Maggie Valley.”

The problem with Compact Disc is that it draws from a style that’s pretty popular right now. Yeah, that means it should appeal to a wider fanbase than maybe Museum Mouth ever achieved, but it also means that there are more bands playing this kind of music. SWTHRT is good, but they don’t surpass their obvious inspirations. Throw in a frustrating band name, and you get something that, while solid, is also a little forgettable.

Big Business - 'Quadruple Single'

Hot diggity dang, it must be fun being in Big Business. The core duo of bassist/frontman Jared Warren (ex-Tight Bros From Way Back When, which I’m only mentioning because I love the name) and Coady Willis (ex-Murder City Devils) write catchy, sludgy numbers with funny names like “Stareadactyl.” They also joined their favorite band, The Melvins, just because. On top of that, they get to look like a couple of cool guys on stage, with Warren rocking an afro and Willis sporting a Tommy Lee set-up (drumming gloves ‘n’ a headset) behind the kit. Life is good.

And life can be good for you too, if you exchange currency for the band’s new Quadruple Single, a self-released rocker with a penchant for awesomeness. Folks get four tunes on 12-inches of clear orange vinyl (with a digital download, if you roll that way). The packaging is pretty neat too. I mean, the lion on the cover has a sweatband! Hilarious! The labels on the record itself look custom-made with sharpies. I’ve got the band’s name written in black ‘n’ gold on the A side and a puking ghost on the B.

Quadruple Single isn’t just a great visual addition to any home, though. It’s also a sonic journey through the workings of the heart. I think. I don’t know. “Guns” is about how guns are awesome (Sample quote: “Guns! Guns! Guns are better than everything else!”). The lyrics are a little hard to decipher, but I do detect some quality jams occurring. Willis provides supple backbeats, and he really gets to show off on some of the intros. Warren is his typical shouty self, but his low end sure knows how to get down. Guitarist Scott Martin (and, presumably, guitarist Toshi Kasai, who’s sitting out the band’s current tour) brings some nice atmosphere to the arrangement, like on the droning outro to “Ice-Cold War.”

So you see, friends and relatives, Big Business is a must-have for anyone who enjoys fun.

Les Demoniaques - 'Teenage Lust'

My first impression of Les Demoniaques’ cover of Jesus & Mary Chains’ “Teenage Lust” was, “Why?” A side project from shoegaze vocalist Tamaryn and Dum Gum Girls leader Dee Dee Penny, the cover is pretty much in line with what the two artists have achieved separately. Further pushing the question is the physical release. Rather than vinyl, the duo went with an etched postcard, a format that’s physical but much more susceptible to wear and tear.

So what I have is a picture of boobs that I paid $5.99 for. Granted, it’s a limited edition printing of boobs with only 1,000 copies in existence, no represses, but it’s still just boobs. Boobs, boobs, boobs.

Boobs.

Yet while I can argue for the inessential nature of this 45, I still have to admit that Les Demoniaques do a great job with “Teenage Lust.” It’s appropriately got that acoustic shoegaze quality folks expect from JAMC, but with cooing female vocals to lend it a whole new kind of haunting grace. The guitars and lyrics glide by, intertwined. It’s appropriately spooky for a quasi-goth band named after a ’70s horror movie. Granted, folks might be better off just finding the digital version, as it’s more environmentally friendly, but the point is that they’re listening. Dum Dum Girls’ next full-length, Only in Dreams, is due in September. While I expect great fuzz-pop things from that group, hopefully Les Demoniaques will evolve into a more substantial act in its own right, something a little more ethereal but just as enchanting.

Big Business and Torche at the First Unitarian Church

Welp, that was loud. Big Business, Torche and Helms Alee dropped a metric ton of sludge rock on Philadelphia’s First Unitarian Church Tues., July 19. For all the muddled low end, though, each band brought a different aspect to the style, resulting in a show that never got tiresome and certainly kept the crowd up in arms (Relatively speaking; outside of Big Business, people didn’t really move around all that much).

Washington’s Helms Alee opted to kick off the show by being the loudest band. It was loud when guitarist Ben Verellen (ex-These Arms are Snakes) plugged in. When drummer Hozoji Margullis started tearing through her kit in a tribal/metal fit, it got louder. But when bassist Dana James finally brought the low end, that’s when my molecules starting rearranging. Helms Alee is a power trio for sure, and no one element could truly take precedence over the rest, but James’ bass sure did kick my ass.

Helms Alee got a good reaction from the crowd; Torche got a great one, and it became clear which band the audience was most excited to see. But to be honest, it was a little awkward transitioning from Helms Alee’s co-ed tech sludge to Torche’s brand of metal, which somehow manages to be both more drone- and more power metal-oriented at the same time. It took my ears a second or two to adjust all the 4/4 going on, but it wasn’t long before I was on board with “the hits” from Meanderthal and last year's most excellent Songs For Singles, just like everyone else.

Despite a slight reduction in crowd size following Torche’s set, headliner Big Business still played the best overall. They were funny (“Let’s harvest our body heat for energy!”), they were rocking and top of that, drummer Coady Willis sported a sweet headset mic/drumming gloves combo. Helms Alee and Torche didn’t interact much with the crowd, but Big Business bassist/vocalist Jared Warren was all about sharing mic duties with the fans, occasionally dipping into the crowd to spread the rock around. The group played a solid set that drew from all three albums, as well as their new self-released effort, Quadruple Single.

While the sound in the Church basement was a bit muddled, that actually suited the musical style, allowing the dissonance the three bands favor to be cultivated even further. Clearly, everyone in attendance was satisfied, and the merch tables were flooded after the show ended. It was loud, but a good kind of loud.

Big D and The Kids Table - 'For the Damned, The Dumb & The Delirious'

You could go one of two ways with For the Damned, the Dumb & the Delirious, the new back-to-basics ska-punk record from Big D and the Kids Table. Either it’s a victory lap after all the genre hopping the band committed before inventing stroll, a new ska subgenre, on 2009’s Fluent in Stroll, or a creative backpedal after that record alienated some the D’s fan base. Given that Damned is steadfastly adequate, both assessments are fair.

Damned takes on elements from the D’s last three proper albums, How It Goes, Strictly Rude and Stroll, essentially making it a career overview in terms of style, if not quality. There’s the occasional dip into dub (“Roxboury (Roots n’ Shoots)”) and a couple of tracks featuring Stroll’s backing vocalists, the Doped Up Dollies, such as “Stringers.” But for the most park, it’s the ska-punk old school fans loved on Good Luck and Gipsy Hill.

While I love Rude and Stroll, I was still excited to hear D reunite with the mighty “fast beat,” and for the first few tracks, Damned is a fast, fun summertime record. “Walls” opens with such a classic How It Goes riff that I forgot Sean P. Rogan isn’t in the band anymore. The horns come in at just the right moment to push that song over. “Clothes Off” keeps the good vibes going, even if that chorus is way too sloppy. “Modern American Gypsy” is another quality rocker, while “Best of Them All” is top notch joke song about drankin’ with a slight Dropkick Murphys edge.

So far, so good, but not long after “Best of Them All,” Damned starts to peter out. Or rather, it repeats D’s previous successes. “Riot Girl” is another peppy ode to a brassy lady in the vein of “Doped Up Dollies on a One Way Ticket to Blood” or “My Girlfriend’s On Drugs,” but by this point in the band’s career you know where the song’s going. The way frontman David McWane keeps using the phrase “riot girl” comes off calculated, as if to say, “Forget that I wrote about being a scumbag to women on ‘Shining On;’ I’m down with feminism.’” Taking a stab at political hardcore on “Brain’s-a-Bomb” doesn’t go over so well either. A large chunk of the album’s middle is forgettable.

Damned rights itself near the end, and by the time “One Day” and the hidden track pass by, it’s even enjoyable. But in trying to recreate the band’s supposed glory days, it comes off as second rate nostalgia. While Damned doesn’t tarnish the D’s legacy and certainly boasts enough solid-to-good songs to justify its existence, it’s still a major disappointment after the string of creative successes the band pulled off last decade.

Teenage Bottlerocket - 'Mutilate Me'

While I should be grateful for another round of Ramones-indebted pop-punk from Teenage Bottlerocket via new seven-inch Mutilate Me, there’s a part of me that wishes the band had held out for another full-length. Instead, fans get one amazing song (the title track), one OK song (“Punk House of Horror”), and a pretty forgettable cover (Bad Religion’s “Henchman”).

But hey, “Mutilate Me” is really, really catchy. TBR’s talent lies in taking simple song structures and wringing massive melodies out of them. “Mutilate Me” is yet another infectious number from a group that’s been cranking them out nonstop since 2001. It’s kitschy like a Go-Go’s tune too.

“Punk House of Horror” is a solid if unremarkable tune. Compared to previous stabs at spooky songwriting like “They Came From the Shadows” and “In the Basement,” it seems like a lesser effort. Same goes for the Bad Religion cover; it’s over before you can react.

Still, Mutilate Me’s title track is strong enough to justify the seven-inch’s existence. If it ever shows up on a future LP, though, I might need to sell this vinyl off.

Altar of Plagues - 'Mammal'

Let’s start with the point of consensus: Altar of Plagues is a metal band from Ireland. The group is probably a black metal band, except they incorporate elements of sludge metal, drone, atmospheric metal a la Jesu, grindcore and even traditional Irish music. And I don’t mean traditional like the Pogues; track three of their stellar new record Mammal, “When the Sun Drowns in the Ocean,” features keening, an ancient vocal lament performed by one or several woman as part of a funeral service. It was abolished by the Roman Catholic Church, so including it here is secretly metal.

Also it sounds creepy/cool.

At just over eight minutes in length, “Sun” also manages to be perhaps Mammal’s most accessible track, by which I mean it’s the shortest. Bookended by the keening, the tune is nothing if not haunting. At the four-minute mark, it morphs into a heavy metal thumper. The guitars are certainly dissonant, but there’s still an underlying ambience to the whole thing that complements the keening’s surreal qualities.

The song that really defines Mammal, however, is “Neptune is Dead.” It’s the opener, and it’s nearly 19 minutes long. Skip that track, and you lose almost half of the album right there. Mammal’s songs take a while to get going, and “Neptune” is no exception. A mechanical hum gently fades into guitar squalls over the course of a minute. Drummer Johnny King starts to poke through with some flourishes, and by the two-minute mark, “Neptune” launches into a thrashing noise that rivals anything Napalm Death ever accomplished. It’s loud.

Nineteen minutes is a long time to devote to just one song, but Altar of Plagues isn’t a stoner rock band; the tune packs enough movements to keep things interesting. Besides, the track listing is almost superfluous. Outside of “Sun,” differentiating between tracks is pointless when there’s shredding to be had. This need to constantly move, to jump from one subgenre to the next, keeps Mammal alive. It’s a record that encompasses elements from several styles and creates something new. One general criticism against metal is that it gets homogenous somewhere between the solos, screaming and chugging. That could never be said of Mammal. Whether they’re rocking a blast beat or showcasing ancient Irish musical styles from a thousand years ago, Altar of Plagues has crafted one of 2011’s most unique metal albums.

The Holy Mess - 'The Holy Mess'

Let’s get the complaining out of the way: The sole problem with the new Holy Mess release is that it’s primarily old material, thereby eliminating it from consideration for best album of 2011. Otherwise, The Holy Mess is a solid collection of 11 super catchy punk tunes in the vein of Lifetime, Rehasher and Latterman. Combining the group’s Benefit Sesh and Dismount EPs with a couple of new tunes, the record delivers fun times straight to your ear holes.

“I Think Corduroy is Making a Comeback,” originally relegated to digital bonus track status on Benefit Sesh, opens the compilation with a burst of jubilant guitar ‘n’ vox. It’s throaty and catchy and thoroughly rocking, and it sets the record up for a string of fast-paced fist-pumpers. Holy Mess tunes tend to be about some mixture of drinking and failing, with the music drawing inspiration from sources ranging from Strung Out to Billy Joel. The Benefit Sesh material (“Corduroy,” “Goodbye 3713 (Must’ve Been a Good One),” “A Soulful Punk Tune About a Working Class Punk”) outshines Dismount with bigger hooks, but the compilation overall flows nicely.

Without any context, the album sounds like it was written and recorded all at once. There’s an emphasis on tunes that are either ridiculously catchy (Benefit Sesh) or ludicrously fast (Dismount). New songs “World Renowned Bonafide Shit Show!” and “Cigarette Reflections” are a little lighter in aggression compared to the older material, but still sound mighty passionate.

The liner notes add a nice touch, as members Rob Malloy and Steveo Niemoczynski break down the history of each song. The stories are actually interesting and go beyond the “I was drinking and then I wrote this” kind of background info. Whether it involves honoring a beloved dog or making semi-obscure digs at other bands, Mally and Niemoczynski provide some good tales. Now they just need to write that full-length.

The Flatliners and The Holy Mess at The Fire

Not to get all “when the punx are united” or anything, but the crowd assembled for the Flatliners/Holy Mess show at Philadelphia’s The Fire Tues., June 14 was a great one in spite of technical issues throughout the night. Kids got rowdy without getting masochistic. There was much singing and back-patting. Also drinking. We did a lot of drinking.

Even without the social lubrication of Yards ‘n’ Schmidt’s, this was a good show. Local act Ah, Horse Hockey kicked off the night with a rousing round of Latterman-esque punk. It was fun posi stuff; I just wish the band had gotten a tighter lock on its tuning. It felt like every song would end to big applause, only to have any audience momentum lost by the guitarists retuning. Emo act Daytrader (very Saves the Day-ish) had problems of a different sort: They were missing half a band. The group soldiered on acoustically, and even delivered a solid cover of Alkaline Trio’s “Cooking Wine,” but overall the group’s earnest emo/pop-punk came off a little much on the wrong side of Dashboard Confessional for my taste – pained howls and acoustic guitars just don’t get me amped anymore.

Local up-and-comers the Holy Mess broke a guitar cable one song in. Luckily, the members of the Holy Mess are trained professionals, and they stalled for time with expert comic timing. Or, at least they tried. Just when the band seemed like they’d run out of stories (Sample quote: “Fuck man, I love to fuck”), the group finally got their instruments up and running and they plowed through a set of new old tunes recently collected on a compilation for Red Scare. Highlights included all three tunes from last year’s Benefit Sesh seven-inch. For a band that fucks around a lot, the Holy Mess sure is awfully tight live, ripping through brief bursts of gruff, RVIVR-esque punk before heading back to the bar.

By this point the Fire had filled up considerably to welcome Canada’s beloved ska-lovin’, punk-playin’ boys the Flatliners. The audience had been enthusiastic but physically reserved before the Flatliners came on. But once the group launched into opener “Here Comes Treble,” from last year’s stellar Cavalcade, people went off, and the pit alternated between moshing and skanking on a whim. Crowd surfing was constant, but outside of the occasional belly flop, the kids took care of each other.

While the Flatliners generally focused on Cavalcade (“Carry the Banner,” “Monumental”), they made their set up on the fly, soliciting fan suggestions throughout the night. Frontman Chris Cresswell wasn’t feeling too well (“I feel like Satan took a shit in my throat”), but he kept up the pace all the same. The songs kind of blurred together after a while, but the band still hit the highlights from Cavalcade and The Great Awake. The act wisely bowed out with “Eulogy,” arguably their catchiest tune, and the crowd certainly helped out with vocal duties. It was a fun show, although I encountered a technical difficulty of my own: Maoz on South Street closes early on weeknights now.

The Tigermilks - 'We Don't Stand a Chance'

Twee may not be tru punx, but don’t tell that to the Tigermilks. The duo of Mitch Clem (bass/vox) and Jeoaf Johnson (guitar/drums) recorded a session of Belle & Sebastian covers in the great pop-punk tradition back in 2007. Four years later, the seven-inch, dubbed We Don’t Stand a Chance, is finally seeing release, thankfully, on Facepalm Records.

The blue ‘n’ white A side opens with a Fat Wreck-style take on “Get Me Away From Here, I’m Dying,” from If You’re Feeling Sinister, that manages to improve on the original. Clem nails the chorus hard and nearly sells the idea of toughening up Belle & Sebastian’s sound with this take alone. “She’s Losin’ It,” from Tigermilk, is a little looser and more straightforward. The background “bop” vocals are a little sloppy but they complement the arrangement.

Side B pulls another round of tracks from Sinister and Tigermilk. “My Wandering Days are Over” and “Judy and the Dream of Horses” are both a little more refined compared to “She’s Losin’ It” while still maintaining some No Idea-esque grit. Basically, these tunes recall just about any band that’s ever played The Fest, only with Stuart Murdoch’s lyrics. Weirdly, these tunes translate awfully well to pop-punk, and not even in an ironic Punk Goes Rap or Indie or Whatever the Kids Like way. It’s legitimately good and not a novelty (Well, not completely anyway). Pop-punk consists of nasal vocals, distorted guitars and songs about failure. The Tigermilks have that down and draw inspiration from an unlikely source, proving that the distance between twee and pop-punk isn’t as great as some may pretend (Looking at you, Pains of Being Pure at Heart).

The Slow Death - 'Turnstile Comix #1'

Not sure if you were aware of this information, but Mikey Erg is in a band (besides Star Fucking Hipsters, Psyched to Die, The Ergs!, The Measure [SA], Dopamines, House Boat, Used Kids and Brook Pridemore). They’re called The Slow Death, and they include bassist/vocalist Jesse Thorson (Pretty Boy Thorson and The Fallen Angels), guitarist Dave Strait (also from PBT ‘n’ TFA) and guitarist Johnny C (ex-The Rest of Us). According to cartoonist Mitch Clem, “The Slow Death are a veritable punk rock super group, except more super because they’re actually really good.”

Speaking of Clem, the mastermind behind Nothing Nice to Say and My Stupid Life is also the founder of the new comic/seven-inch series Turnstile Comix. Issue #1 happens to sport a trio of stories about plus a blue seven-inch from the aforementioned Slow Death. It’s a neat project for people who like fun.

Clem and his fiancée, Nation of Amanda, turn in a solid debut issue. The best humor comes from failure, which is generally what #1 focuses on. Clem introduces The Slow Death by talking about he completely embarrassed himself at a show they played. Thorson then spins a couple of tales about touring (One of them is about pee!).

The stories have a certain rambling quality, only to just sort of end abruptly, but they’re still funny and the art looks good. But in order for the comics to really, truly matter, the included seven-inch needs to rock faces. Accordingly, The Slow Death included four top notch tunes about drinking and failing. They’re the kind of tunes that need to be played loud/fast to avoid bumming everyone out.

“Poor Little Fool” opens the vinyl with a burst of big hooks and Lucero-ish instrumentation. “Bart’s People” boasts a super catchy chorus and the most depressing verses this side of The Smiths. Sample lyric: “There is no happy ending / This ain’t no fairy tale / There is no heaven up above us / There is just this living hell / And you die at the end.” Huzzah! “A Little Bit More” goes from atheism to drinking, and drinking a lot. “Punchlines (Suck My Ass, It Smells, Pt. 2)” is (probably) about getting fired. But it goes on a great, throaty gang vox part, so clearly Thorson wins out in the end.

Turnstile Comix is pretty dang promising, both as a comic book series and as a debut from The Slow Death. Here’s hoping for more from Clem and TSD, and soon.