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.
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.
[Vinyl Vednesday is a weekly feature about three favorite vinyl finds. It’s not meant to be a dick-measuring contest, but it usually turns out that way. Now that things are unpacked, I might as well talk about my move, through the gift of song. As always, e-mail pelonej1@gmail.com with your own big finds!]
Records: Toi Amos’ Boys For Pele (1996) on clear, Jimmy Eat World’s “Pain” b/w “Shame” (2004) on clear sky blue, and The Meters’ Struttin (1970) on black.
Place of Purchase: I gave Michelle Boys For Pele as a gift. I obtained it through secret means. Jimmy Eat World came from Spaceboy Records in Philadelphia (R.I.P.). The Meters were part of a trade-in with Siren Records in Doylestown.
Thoughts: During the move, some records came to us by chance. Others were clearly going to get massive rotation. Boys For Pele falls in the latter category. It’s one of Michelle’s favorite records, if not her absolute favorite. I find the record to be a little uneven and intense, but got-damn does it sound good on vinyl. It’s Amos at her most unhinged, powered by nothing but harpsichord, drums, and rage. Tunes like “Caught a Light Sneeze” and “Hey Jupiter” are pretty darn intense and rocking. What’s funny about this record is that every time a woman comes out with an experimental pop record, be it Bat For Lashes or Joanna Newsome or even that upcoming Bjork album, people call daring and weird and great. And all I can think is, “None of you have listened to Boys For Pele.”
I’m up to the Js for myPod, in which I try to edit down my music collection by ripping through the whole dang thing. I spent a lot of time during my first week in the house listening to Jimmy Eat World. My emo collection in general is shrinking, and I figured I would cut some more albums here, but I hit a snag with Futures, the first JEW album to come out after the classic run of Clarity and Bleed American. For years, I argued that Futures was an underrated classic. It combines Bleed’s hooks with Clarity’s more luscious arrangements. But I found myself kind of neutral on the record all these years later, and I rarely played it anymore. But something forced me to stick with it. I lived with the album for two days and came out loving it all over again. Futures is a lot angrier than Bleed American, as evidenced by the single “Pain.” The B-side, “Shame,” is a little more giving, and I would gladly have rotated it onto the final album’s tracklisting in place of “Drugs or Me.” Chase This Light is gone, though.
The Meters are a funky, funky band. I like to listen to music when I do just about anything, but especially when I cook. Struttin makes for excellent cooking music. Propelled by “Zigaboo” Modeliste’s freewheeling drumbeats, The Meters could find a groove and make it last for as short or as long as they wanted. Struttin has some choice cuts, like “Go For Yourself” and “Hand Clapping Song,” but I kind of prefer the weirder cuts like “Chicken Strut,” in which the band, funkily, imitates roosters, and “Ride Your Pony,” in which the group is very insistent that you ride that pony right now. This record really helped me figure out how to use an electric stove.
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’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.
[myPod is a biweekly attempt to edit down my CD collection as I import my music on to my brand new 160 GB iPod.]
Franz Ferdinand
I only like one Franz Ferdinand album, but it’s not the one you’re thinking of. I hated the group’s breakthrough eponymous debut; the tunes were so repetitive that they sounded like 30-second jingles stretched out to three minutes. Two years after its release, I’m kind of burned out on the dance-punk of Tonight. You Could Have It So Much Better, however, remains a must-have in my collection. It’s their most muscular record, owing a great debt to The Kinks’ for its sarcasm and brawn.
Verdict: Sell some, keep some.
Freaks and Geeks Original Soundtrack and Score
Maybe I just came of age at the right time, but Freaks and Geeks, the My So-Called Life of my generation, meant a lot to me. I was the same age as Sam Weir when it aired, and I identified with every young character on the show on some level. As soon as the soundtrack dropped, I bought it. While I was already into some of the bands (The Who, Joe Jackson), it also forced me to reconsider artists like Joan Jett and Rush. As a fan, I obviously have a strong emotional attachment to Styx’s “Come Sail Away” thanks to the pilot episode, but my favorite track is probably a sloppy/silly performance of “Jesus is Just Alright With Me” between Nick (Jason Segel) and Millie (Sarah Hagan). It’s really, really cute.
Verdict: Keep.
Lars Frederiksen & The Bastards
Believe it or not, The Bastards are what got me into Rancid. My friend Tim gave me two records for consideration in high school: Rancid (2000) and the self-titled Bastards LP. I wasn’t keen on Rancid (I’ve come around since, but I still prefer the Clash-leaning ’90s records to 2000’s hardcore reboot), but that Bastards record really turned my head and, along with Strike Anywhere, got me to shift away from pop-punk and explore the more discordant side of punk. Bastards has all the hits: “Dead American,” “Campbell, CA,” “Army of Zombies,” “Vietnam”… I could go on. The first album is genius. Viking, on the other hand, not so much. There’s always been a certain amount of fronting in the Rancid comp, but Viking tries too hard to sound tough. It can’t be a coincidence that the album came out not long after rumors started that Frederiksen was gay. Just saying. Anyway, my college roommate Eric and I had a blast making cracks about tunes like “Switchblade.” We both love Bastards unironically, though.
Verdict: BRING ON THE DAYS OF WINE AND ROSES.
Fridge
Someone sent me a reissue of Fridge’s EPH for free. I think it was No Idea. It’s somewhat experimental post-rock, it’s not bad, and I could see somebody doing a great job rapping over it, but I haven’t listened to this album since I got it and I don’t remember any of the tunes. That’s not a good sign.
Verdict: Sell.
Fugazi
Ian MacKaye has been an idol of mine nearly a decade now. It started with Minor Threat – so primal, so straight edge – but once I heard Fugazi’s 13 Songs, I knew which one of MacKaye’s bands was my favorite. To this day, the first three Fugazi records remain my top three, in order of release. 13 Songs, which is technically an EP collection but whatever, took hardcore, indie rock, and reggae and turned it into what we now call post-hardcore. Whatever you call it, it’s essentially discordant music with rhythm, and that’s exactly what’s missing from most punk bands outside of The Clash. 13 Songs the best Fugazi gateway, if for no other reason than it opens with “Waiting Room.” The tune slinks and snarls. Repeater, released a year later, sounds like a victory lap.
It was with Steady Diet of Nothing that Fugazi started to transform. Diet still has a foot planted in the Songs/Repeater mold, but it’s also slower and more discordant. “Reclamation” has always been my favorite track. It’s a punk mission statement (“These are our demands: We want control of our bodies”) about defining one’s own morality. MacKaye always pushed people to think for themselves, and “Reclamation” is the most direct expression of that sentiment since Minor Threat’s “Straight Edge.”
From there, things get weird. I love Red Medicine, which is uglier, and End Hits, which is more indie, but compared to those first three albums, they don’t get as much play. Same goes for The Argument. It’s the last Fugazi album, and it would sound like a different band altogether if End Hits didn’t serve as a bridge. Argument is a lot quieter and slower, content to explore ambience and rhythm over loudness. It’s undeniably good, though, as is the accompanying EP Furniture + 2. Instrument, an oddities collection meant to supplement a documentary on the band, is the least essential, but it’s still ’gazi. The group wrote of the best tunes of the ’80s and ’90s, self-released them, and then toured the world on their own, well before acts like Radiohead and Smashing Pumpkins started doing the same thing on the Internet.
Verdict: Keep.
The Fugees
That’s right; I listen to rippity rappin’ music. The Score is a fine record, one I have celebrated time and again. I’m not going to act like I know squat about diddily here, but The Score is a chill rap record with some big hooks and a massive pop cultural index ranging from martial arts movies to Marvel comics to countless TV shows. Hindsight is 20/20, but I think Lauryn Hill so clearly defines this group, even though at the time folks heaped praise on leader Wyclef Jean.
Verdict: Keep.
Further Seems Forever
I’m always going to be a little emo, but just like with Dashboard Confessional, I think I’ve outgrown Chris Carrabba’s other band. Too many slow tunes; not enough pep.
Verdict: Sell.
Future Soundtrack for America
Long ago, in the year 2004, I really, really hated President George W. Bush. That hate has always kind of stayed with me, but 2004 meant a lot to me, given that it was the first election I could vote on. My vote didn’t get much done, but I still show up at St. Helena’s every time, hoping to balance out all the wealthy, white Republicans. Anyway, in 2004, there were two compilations released that I hoped would help motivate lazy young people to “rock” the “vote.” One was the two-part series Rock Against Bush; the other was Barsuk Records’ Future Soundtrack for America. It didn’t work, but at least I got some quality tunes courtesy of Jimmy Eat World, Nada Surf, Death Cab for Cutie, and Sleater-Kinney (They actually double-dipped on the comp-only “Off With Your Head” for Future and Rock Against Bush). While roughly half of the comp is of the dull indie/folk variety, there are enough original contributions that I feel compelled to hold on to this disc. That, and my hate.
Verdict: Keep.
NEXT TIME: G is for... good hardcore, girl-fronted alt-rock bands, and glorious side projects.
Picasso Blue is back, motherfucker. My fiancee and I moved into a house last weekend, and it's almost like a home now. I've got an office and a desk and some fast Internets. My record collection is alphabetized and my clarity is strong.
Also I'm taking over as Reviews Editor for Punknews.org.
But more importantly, I have a house for me and my girl. It's spacious and has a kitchen and a murder basement and we live here now. Big thanks to my friends and family for helping us move all of our stupid-heavy belongings.
Now let's make with the music obsession.
Also, here's a picture of my friend Nick from the move:
