Comments (People Who See Sound
Little
High Dive
Rating: 3
Owing as much to 60s bubble
gum and as anything listed in their influences, unsigned Portland act, Little
Beirut, weave together a sound on High Dive that is very much in its
time, yet harkens back to these more naïve forms. Lush, orchestral pop hooks,
phantasmagoric backing vocals, and layered textures all fill out the musical
space on this record, creating a sense of being carried out to sea on a bubble
of modern guitar and synth pop. Out of the gate, “She’s a Martyr,” probably the
best produced song on the album, assaults the senses as each instrument screams
out in muted desperation, spilling its musical banks like a low raging torrent.
But thereafter, this tension is traded for a softer, slicker, more
radio-friendly vibe. Outside the opening track, the band and their restful
sound seem to work best on the ballads “Love During Wartime,” a tongue-in-cheek
love song to Condoleeza Rice that somehow manages to be touching even though
the thought of touching her is beyond abhorrent, and the title track “High
Dive.” Here, the delayed guitars and atmospheric synths make sense in their
muted tranquility. We find the production doing its job and couching the
listener in an emotional cushion befitting the tranquil sentiment. Ultimately,
however, and maybe this sense would disappear after more listens, the soul of
the more upbeat songs, the razor’s edge of those shrieking guitar lines, the
constant, unresolved dissonance found in the album’s opening track, all seem
buried beneath a thin layer of fog created by too slick a-production and too
much mind for perfection in the balance between instruments. When everyone is
in the pocket, no one sticks out, and the music seems to lack excitement…lack
sincerity. There are a few moments of this on the record. Still, Dive has
some truly impressive moments that bear revisiting – a nice independent
release.
-Brad Linzy
Iron Maiden and the New Wave of British
Heavy Metal
[DVD]
(Chrome Dreams)
Rating: 3.5
A fascinating and
historically accurate documentary portrayal of the bands, writers, and fans
that helped give rise to the New Wave of British Heavy Metal (NWOBHM).
Featuring expertly delivered commentary by a host of musicians and writers who
were there during the scene’s unlikely and spontaneous explosion after 1976,
this DVD gives viewers a glimpse into a post-punk time and place in a jolly
land called England, where young men clad in leather and denim would learn a
few chords and start their own bands…but bigger, faster, and more powerful than
what had come before. With performance clips from bands like Saxon, Samson,
Tygers of Pan Tang, Diamondhead, Def Leppard, and, of course, Iron Maiden, this
documentary explores the rare footage and little knows facts about the movement,
and sheds new light on its significance to modern heavy metal music. Clocking
in at 2 hours 37 minutes, this DVD is more than a history lesson; it’s an
exhaustive course in NWOBHM 101, and a must-see for any self-respecting metal
enthusiast.
-Brad Linzy
Clark Snyder
A Complicated Cake
(Pugetropolis)
Rating: 3.5
Part Waylon Jennings, part
Gordon Lightfoot. Part John Prine, part Tom Waits. Clark Snyder is another one
of those accomplished lyricists who knows how to take the mundane imagery of
the modern world and make it seem somehow timeless…somehow poetic. It’s a
talent secured by those who are able to see the beauty and irony in almost
anything. Sung in a deadpan baritone with just a hint of twang, and with comic
metaphor in songs like “Hubcap,” sung from the point of view of a lost hubcap
on the side of the road longing for his companion Chevy Malibu, Snyder recalls
a lyrical adventurousness and focus usually associated with people like those
mentioned above. This lyrical cleverness continues on songs like “The Parts I
Like,” which admits it’s ok not to know all the lyrics, so long as you sing
along to the parts you like. With a simple, sparse production predominated by
Snyder’s vintage Gibson B-25 acoustic, A Complicated Cake is one album that can
never be accused of being insincere. Far from being “complicated,” it is Cake’s
simplicity that is its greatest asset. A couple of the songs seem to have
been written as gifts for various occasions. It is as simple as the
satisfaction felt after finishing cutting the grass on a blazing summer day, or
as fresh as the glass of lemonade with which you quench your thirst. There
doesn’t have to be much more to it than that. A good song speaks for itself. It
comes from one heart in a spontaneous act of reaching out to another. This is
what Snyder has accomplished here… at least the reaching out part. The rest is
up to you.
-Brad Linzy
The Melvins
Nude With Boots
(Ipecac)
Rating: 4.5
It’s time to believe in the
power of rock again! The Melvins are back with an uncompromising new album
that’s got all the proto-metal jams you could possibly want. Like a giant
robotic elephant, stomping and sh*tting all over your pretty, little tart face,
the furor and rage of Boots will knock you flat on your pathetic,
unsuspecting ass. Dale Crover’s relentless drumming will tack your crusty
ballsack to the wall, while Buzz and co. flay the skin off with the acid-tinted
razors of their metal. Formed almost a quarter century ago, their total
disregard for the conventions of music, for the social constructs of life as a
biped on a little floating ball in space, and for the boundaries between what
is and what should never have been is perhaps what sets The Melvins apart from
anything borne of the comparative creative wasteland of the past decade or more
of singalong, Eddie Vedder-imitating asswipes calling themselves “rockers.”
Warning: The Melvins will not be held responsible for any ultra-violence,
riotous acts, or megalomania that ensue with the July release of Boots.
Lock up your children. You have been warned. This is the good sh*t. I suggest
requesting “The Smiling Cobra,” for starters. That song rocks so hard, I can
feel the North American tectonic plate shifting just with these dinky computer
speakers I’m relegated to using. I can’t imagine the galactic catastrophe that
would ensue if I had a decent McIntosh all-tube sound system to send it
through. I shudder to think.
-Brad Linzy
