D. Rider - 'Mother of Curses'

Hey sludge fans and indie kids; here’s your meeting point: D. Rider’s Mother of Curses. Short for Deathrider and not, sadly, a Dungeons & Dragons reference, the trio of Andrea Faught, Noah Tabakin, and Todd Albert Rittman specialize in cacophonous slow jams. Existing somewhere among Cursive’s wounded whine, Teenage Jesus & The Jerks’ post-punk horn bleats, and any dirge-y band ever, D. Rider makes experimental noisy noise that somehow doubles as dance music.

The band’s most defining elements come from vocalist/guitarist/drummer Rittman, who drops some great, loose, sloppy beats, especially during the album’s first three tracks. And while Faught and Tabakin provide an enticing layer of keyboards ‘n’ horns to enshroud the songs in an appealing murkiness, Rittman’s surprisingly clear vocal takes that are what give the noise more meaning through contrast. Rittman’s third contribution, the guitar, feels album erroneous by comparison. His playing is either periphery or extremely noodley, though he does on occasion find a sweet, grungy spot on tracks like “Dew Claw Don’t Claw” and “Misery Whip.”

Mother of Curses is expansive and freeform, but it does occasionally slip into formlessness. “Body to Body (to Body)” starts out great, with ringing bells and howling horns, but it dissolves painfully by its end. The song is meant to fall apart, and it takes just a little too long to get there. “Welcome Out,” meanwhile doesn’t go anywhere at all.

Soggy middle aside, though, the record works well. Faught and Tabakin are the stellar back-up players, providing noise rock without the masturbatory shapelessness. It’s almost disappointing to hear D. Rider pursue more traditional, guitar-centric rock near the end. But then, “Misery Whip” pummels so hard and so well, that it doesn’t matter. Plus, after the long, droning white noise of “The Marksman,” it’s a welcome retread.

But that’s why Mother of Curses should be appealing to a decent cross section of underground music fans. While it’s got a slight “jack of all trades/master of none” bent to it, the album manages to embody a great swath of loud ideas, making it a good gateway record in a bunch of different directions.

Against Me! - 'The Original Cowboy'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Passenger Action - s/t

[How the hell are these guys on the same label as Propagandhi, Daggermouth, and Comeback Kid?]

The problem with overselling something is that, if it works, expectations are created. High ones at that. So while there’s nothing violently wrong with Passenger Action’s self-titled full-length debut, there is something troubling about the Canadian rockers’ image. What Passenger Action promises is a compromise between technical and punk rock which, while contradictory, is still an interesting premise. What they deliver is competent, complacent pop rock in the vein of the latest albums from Valencia, Our Lady Peace, and The Starting Line.

Oh sure, there are flecks of punx speckles here and there, and the band doesn’t rely solely on common time. Album opener “Tonight We Resonate” is a solid first track, starting with a lonely chord progression before exploding into a fist-pumper. Instrumental numbers “(Night Frisbee)” and “(Good Ones Are Hard To Come By)” reveal a knack for more ambient, experimental material. They’re each under two minutes long, but reveal a musical depth that that band seems to subvert on their other songs. “Good Ones” briefly recalls U2 circa The Joshua Tree; combined with frontman Shawn Moncrieff’s love of clean, powerful vocals, these guys could really push themselves towards something bigger and/or better. By which I mean OLP circa Happiness… Is Not a Fish That You Can Catch instead of OLP circa Healthy in Paranoid Times. Five-minute finale “Twenty Weeks” further hints at the band’s potential for dreamier, sludgier material.

But for the most part, Passenger Action is merely an adequate release rendered disappointing by inappropriate marketing. These songs don’t have much in hooks or delivery. Passenger Action doesn’t do anything annoying or offensive, but that’s part of the problem: Their album is too safe and unremarkable. But if you’re into pseudo-emo rock, hey, here’s something from our neighbors up north.

Wilco - 'Wilco (the album)'

This year, I fell for Wilco (the band). Hard. It started with 1996’s double disc Being There, a chance purchase that hooked me right away with opener “Misunderstood.” Ignoring the fact that it’s alt-country and not out-and-out rock ‘n’ roll, it spoke to me like Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run minus the gang violence. I too was “short on long term goals” and “so misunderstood” and such. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot followed, and it was even better. Frontman Jeff Tweedy hit me with another strong opener, “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart,” and he did so seemingly effortlessly. Summerteeth finally confirmed it; I was a fan.

So I suppose there are pros and cons to hearing Wilco (the album) mere months after falling in love with the band’s best songs. Had I been around earlier, maybe I wouldn’t be as disappointed by its laidback quality. Some bands benefit from time numbing the sweet taste of their successes (God damn you, Cursive). Maybe I’m taking Wilco’s discography for granted. But at the same time, I feel that, with “Heavy Metal Drummer” and “Ashes of American Flags” and a bevy of Billy Bragg covers fresh in my mind, I might be the one to call the slightest of bullshits on the bevy of praise Wilco (the album) has garnered so far.

Wilco (the album) is an OK record. It’s not bad. It’s not brilliant. It is just OK, like a lot of the albums great bands tend to put out later in their careers. The record combines bits of humor and the macabre, but for the most part, it’s just a reliably solid alt-country disc.

“Wilco (the song”) opens with self-aware Wikipedia humor. “Are you under the impression / this isn’t your life?” asks Tweedy. “Do you dabble in depression / Is someone twisting a knife in your back?” he presses, as if he doesn’t know my answer. “Wilco / Wilco / Wilco will love you baby,” he reminds me over chiming bells and pounding drums. It’s no “Misunderstood,” but it’s still a welcome set of “aural arms open wide / A sonic shoulder for you to cry on.”

“Deeper Down” dials down the energy a little, with gentle steel guitar. Everything is easy/breezy until the record’s middle or so, when “Bull Black Nova” and “You and I” hit. Summerteeth’s “She’s a jar” casually dropped domestic abuse references, but “Nova” goes even darker, detailing a murderer’s paranoid perspective – “They’re coming up the shoulders / What have they found? / I wonder if they know / I’m in a bull black Chevy Nova / silhouetted by the setting sun.” Coming mere minutes after the goofs of “Wilco (the song),” it’s shockingly frank, with its list of all the places the victim’s blood can be found. Claustrophobic piano and guitar lines make it all the more foreboding. In contrast is “You and I,” a love song featuring guest vocalist Feist. The tune pledges fidelity and hope in spite of miscommunication and mistrust. A tender track, it retroactively makes “Bull Black Nova” all the more disturbing, as if it were its prequel.

After that tender number, though, the record drifts into a haze. All of a sudden, you’re at the twinkling outro of “Everlasting Everything” and the album is over. Images of Tom Petty and George Harrison float by (especially during “You Never Know,” which bites from “My Sweet Lord”). While Wilco’s records aren’t perfect, they’ve never so steadily slipped into such a relaxed, bland state. Which is perhaps why I feel so let down. Wilco (the album) is pleasant, but I’ve spent the first half of 2009 being completely blown away by Wilco (the backcatalog).

No Connection - 'Second to None'

In this economy, New York pop-punkers No Connection understand the value of the dollar, delivering seven songs on as many inches of wax on Second to None. While the title proves misleading (Lemuria and The Measure [SA] both pack better lyrics ‘n’ hooks, and do I even need to invoke Discount’s name?), Second to None is still a promising collection of catchy cultural critiques.

How deep those critiques go, though, fluctuates. Opener “Stemmie” is supposed to be an argument for stem cell research according to the liner notes, but listeners can plug in any “us vs. them” angle they choose. But while lines like “This agenda we are fighting / we are fighting for our lives” don’t really stir much, they’re still packed with the tried and true pop-punk touchstone, the “whoa.”

There’s no mistaking the content of “Hell for You,” though. Frontwoman Barb Object tears into a child molester for acting on and trying to hide his twisted desires, and her disgust is violent and palpable.

As for the music, it’s standard pop-punk stuff. A little loose and not too over-polished, it’ll more or less get listeners where they want to go. At the same time, though, the EP loses momentum as it goes on. Second to None could have easily shed its back half and been a stellar four-track collection. But then we wouldn’t have gotten second side song “Sexwerk,” which defends prostitution without rejecting or glorifying it. It also offers the best line of the seven-inch: “Respect is more than money / A vagina is more than leverage.”

The Answer - 'Never Too Late'

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

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

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

regarding Bruce Springsteen at Glastonbury

the 59 sound - bruce springsteen & gaslight anthem( glasto )
by runawaydream

Here's a video of Bruce Springsteen playing "The 59 Sound" with his heirs, The Gaslight Anthem. My favorite part is during the last chorus, when you realize Bruce doesn't actually know the words. TGA frontman Brian Fallon came out during the E Street Band's set later that night for "No Surrender." What I really want to see, though, is Bruce's cover of "Coma Girl" by Joe Strummer and The Mescaleros. Springsteen has covered a few Strummer tunes in his day ("London Calling," The Clash's version of "I Fought the Law"), but "Coma Girl," an ode to Glastonbury itself, sounds like a fitting opener. The Loved Ones released a really good acoustic version of it earlier this year; I'm starting to think it's one of those songs that you just can't ruin.

Seriously, though, if anyone finds an mp3 of Bruce doing the Mescaleros tune, hit me up!