Haiku Reviews

So despite all the help I've been getting, there are still a backlog of albums that need reviewing. In an effort to clean some house, here's four albums in one shot, all in the ancient Chinese (Japanese? maybe?) art of haiku. Enjoy. - Mr. Dogg
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Artist: The Futureheads

Album: This is Not The World

Hooky pop-rock songs.

Energey, but not that fun.

Futureheads, improve!

Rating: 6 out of 10

Key Tracks: The Beginning of the Twist, Walking Backwards, Think Tonight

Buy, Steal, Skip: Steal

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Artist: Wolf Parade

Album: At Mount Zoomer

Side projects are gone

Catchy, slow burning album

Next favorite band?

Rating: 7.5 out of 10

Key Tracks: Soldier’s Grin, California Dreamer, Language City

Buy, Steal, Skip: Buy

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Artist: Ponytail

Album: Ice Cream Spiritual

Noise punk with a smile

Karen O, collective screams

Blast of lo-fi fun

Rating: 7 out of 10

Key Tracks: Beg Waves, Celebrate the Body Electric

Buy, Steal, Skip: Buy

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Artist: Less Than Jake

Album: GNV FLA

Band wants to come home

Horns return, recall past times

Bland, but moving up

Rating: 5.5 out of 10

Key Tracks: The State of Florida, Abandon Ship, Conviction Notice

Buy, Steal, Skip: Steal

Dead Lake Will Make You Feel Alive

Artist: Hot Club De Paris
Album: Live at Dead Lake

Comments: Since the release of Drop It ‘Til It Pops in 2006, listeners across the map have been clamoring for Hot Club De Paris to send some more of that passionate, British pop-punk out into the world. And now, two years later with their most recent release, Live At Dead Lake, Hot Club does not disappoint.

From the “la’s” and “da’s” of opening track, “Call Me Mr. Demolition Ball,” Hot Club present a catchy, 14 song summer soundtrack about being young and in love and all the hang-ups that such behavior entails. With their high energy guitars and bouncing British accents the band radiates the sunny feeling of July, regardless of the weather outside. They kick off the album with a three song frenzy synonymous with the established sound on Hot Club’s first album. “My Little Haunting,” and “I Wasn’t Being Heartless When I Said Your Favorite Song Lacked Heart,” instantly ease a listener’s inhibitions; this is still the Hot Club they know and love.

The middle of the album is composed of an interesting dynamic in which the two strongest songs on the album are alternated between two instrumental tracks. The interludes initially serve as a clever way to build up to the following songs, but after a few spins a listener will impatiently skip ahead to the dance-in-your-car “Hey, Housebrick” and the ever hopeful, “Boy Awaits Return of the Runaway Girl.” “Housbrick” comes with a number of fist-pump inducing shouts and a corresponding music video that emphasizes the lighthearted tone of the album. “Boy Awaits” doesn’t have quite the same musical oomph, but the story of the boy waiting for his lady to choose between a man and him and his pop-punk band will having you rooting for the boy and hoping that the runaway girl would come back to you, too.

One of the only discrepancies in the album, which is most apparent in the mellow, “Found Sleeping,” is Hot Club’s periodic love of noise making. “Mr. Demolition Ball” opens with the abstract, twanging of guitars and tapping of symbols, a phenomena which creeps briefly into “My Little Haunting,” and then fully takes over in “Found Sleeping.” This freeform style served the band well with heartbreaker “Hello, I Wrote A Song For You Called ‘Welcome To The Jungle,’” off their first album. Sadly, their attempt at a second song of that caliber falls short.

But overall, Hot Club keeps their energy consistent through the CD. “The Dice Just Wasn’t Loaded From The Start,” is a quieter, more endearing number about a relationship gone awry, followed by some more upbeat tracks. Disregarding “Found Sleeping,” the album finishes strong. Hot Club De Paris has created another winner. Live At Dead Lake is the musical embodiment of warm summer nights spent driving on back roads with someone you like, singing with the windows down and planning to make a recovery.
-Liz Wagner

Rating: 8 out of 10

Key Tracks: Hey Housebrick, The Boy Awaits Return of the Runaway Girl, The Dice Just Wasn't Loaded From the Start, I Wasn't Being Heartless When I Said Your Favorite Song Lacked Heart

Buy, Steal, or Skip: Buy

Dex Jux Gets Funky With Chin Chin

Artist: Chin Chin

Album: Chin Chin

Comments: I really wish I knew more about soul music. I’ve worked hard to keep myself at least semi-versed in as many genres of pop music as possible, but as I sit here and try to review Chin Chin’s self titled record, I can’t help but feel that I am woefully unprepared.

See, with other genres of music, I’ve got benchmarks. I can think of an example in almost every genre of at least one band that I feel strongly about. But when it comes to soul, I’m pretty much in the dark. I’ve got some Marvin Gaye, some Al Green, and some Solomon Burke but none of their stuff has ever served as much more than background noise or snugglin’ music.

It’s possible that I just don’t care much for soul music. If that is the case, then it’s pretty clear that I won’t think much of Chin Chin. Because, despite their leaning into electronica, funk and even rock, this plays like a modern-day soul record.

The best way to describe this record is confident. The album opens with “Miami,” a rocking song heavy with funk horns and swagger. It’s a well named song; if I close my eyes while I listen, I can almost see palm trees at sunset while girls in white dresses and men in fedora hats dance in a club on South Beach. “Miami” is sharp, and one of the best cuts on the album despite a thin start that is exercised by the ending guitar attack.

The album shifts away from bombast but maintains the cool confidence on tracks like “Appetite” and “You Can’t Hold Her.” The tracks are modern, with some real sharp production (that I suspect might be courtesy of El-P, mastermind of the band’s label Def Jux). It’s seduction music, but it’s well made.

So goes the album. There are some slow songs (“Ohio”), some more rocking tracks (“Cotillon,” “Curtis”) and some lovemaking, sexy tunes that employ some falsetto singing that will either light your fire or have you scrambling for the “next” button.

Chin Chin is the kind of album you could throw on at a party and have a good time to, especially if there’s a lady or dude at the show you’re looking to make a move on. Outside of that, I’m not sure if this is a good album or not. I know that Chin Chin sound as confident as hell on this record, which leads me to want to listen to it more. I also know that it won’t get more than one or two more spins in the future. I guess if you like soul music you can dance to, this will tickle you.

You might dance to Chin Chin, but it isn’t the album that’ll turn you into a soul fan. At least, it wasn’t for me.

Rating: 5.5 out of 10

Key Tracks: Miami, Curtis, Ohio, Cotillon

Buy, Steal, or Skip: Steal

Get Happy With We're Happy

Artist: J. Fox
Album: We're Happy to Be Here

Comments: In many ways, Philadelphia-based three piece J. Fox is a straight-up punk band. Their début album, We’re Happy To Be Here, clocks in at 14 songs in under 25 minutes. Their sound is decidedly lo-fi, with no guitar effects or fancy studio tricks to be found on this bare-bones record. Their music, which is anchored by an enthusiastic, if not always technically sound rhythm section, isn’t the kind of thing that sounds labored and stressed over. Songs begin and end without warning at times, as if the band just said “fuck it, this is as good a spot to end the song as any.” Rush, they are not.

However, to label this indie-rock record under the "punk" umbrella is to limit it. Sure, We’re Happy To Be Here is a punk album, but it's also a blast. Listening to the album is a lot like eating bread pudding for the first time; at first the texture makes one hesitant despite the fact that it looks good. However, after that first bite, you’ll definitely come back for more.

J. Fox’s main strength (and potential weakness) are in their lyrics. This is a band that lives and dies in the “Train of Thought” school of lyric writing, which is an established university with some great success stories (R.E.M, Modest Mouse) and some colossal failures (The Mars Volta).

For the most part, however, J. Fox seems to avoid the pitfalls that come with free-form lyric writing. They’ve carved themselves into a nice little niche where the words make sense in a broad, open minded sense if not in a specific “these words are referring to this” way. The general theme of the album seems to be living the boring suburban life with boring suburban people. It’s well tread ground, and the nonsense lyrics work well by hinting without ever smacking the listener in the head.

Of course, some of it is nothing more than words that sound good together. For example, take this line from “Oysters,” a mellow rock track that sounds a little bit like early Jawbreaker; “Come on / let’s get in line / I don’t know Yahtzee but I won’t take the time / to learn a new game / this time I’ll try to use my brain.” Um, okay.

Still, this is very much a case of not what is being said, but how it is being said. The delivery is spot on in most places, sounding rushed when it needs to and sounding relaxed when its time to calm down. The avante-garde, gutterpunk sound of the album stays consistent through, succeeding wonderfully on the “Basement Rock” (which is a dance-fest), and “Dirty Ditch” (which might be a revenge song, but fuck if I know). Songs like “Oysters,” which is the most heartfelt cut on the album and “Signs,” which is a herky-jerky surf rock song, do break up the album some, but for the most part the sound doesn’t deviate from the formula.

Just like eating too much bread pudding, one can get sick of We’re Happy To Be Here. After all, man cannot live on dessert alone. But if you give J. Fox a chance, they’ll make life a little bit sweeter.

Rating: 7.5 out of 10

Key Tacks: Basement Rock, Brooklyn, Dirty Ditch, Oysters

Buy, Steal, Skip: Buy it.

Pattern is Garbage

Artist: Pattern is Movement
Album: All Together

Comments: The first 50 seconds of “Bird,” the first and best track on Pattern is Movement’s third album All Together, are as triumphant as military trumpet. “I will never / all together,” commands Andrew Thiboldeaux, PiM’s singer. A choir responds, echoing Thiboldeaux’s chorus, only to have him call for it again. Drums thump in the background, off the beat of the vocals that drive the song as a xylophone provides the song’s melody, giving it a Saturday-morning-cartoon-meets-drama-class feel.

Then, just as things are established and the song is rolling along, things abruptly change. Gongs and wind instruments chime in, brining a whole new melody to the song. Not abrasive, but like a gentle, fickle wind that blows the song in a completely new direction with no warning or care for the listener, who moment before was enjoying some just fine pop music.

Such is the way on All Together, an album of avant-garde, dramatic indie pop that is so preoccupied with changing every 30 seconds that the listener can never catch up.

The reason this unfocused strategy can work in a genre like lo-fi or noise is because that kind of music is based on exploring chaos and finding substance within it. However, there is no chaos to be found on All Together. Every instrument is clean and planned, with no notes missed. Everything was thought of miles in advance. The changes are by design, not circumstance. Patter is Movement decided, consciously, to make an album that never settles.

It’s a shame really because there might be some legitimately good ideas littered thought this album. However, due to the ever-shifting nature of the songs, it’s not even fun to try and find them. Why look for the good when you can only get a gimps of it before its on to the next idea? Pattern is movement, indeed.

Rating: 3 out of 10

Key Tracks: Bird

Buy, Steal, or Skip: Skip

A Collection of Words Describing Nouns

Artist: No Age
Album: Nouns

Comments: Talented and all-around nice guys, No Age are back after their 2007 release Weirdo Rippers. Since that release, their notoriety has grown out of the L.A. "Smell" scene and into the confines of hip America (and presumably, other hip countries). On their newest release Nouns, No Age’s noisy punk sound is polished and more audible than their previous venture, while still maintaining their nonchalant swagger.

After Weirdo Rippers, it was hard to tell which way their sound was going to swing. Would No Age lean towards their roots and end up more hardcore, or would they become a clean-cut and bland indie-rock outfit? Luckily, the band (Randy Randall and Dean Spunt) did not push the genre-bending extreme. All they did was re-evaluate their overall sound to make it more accessible for a wider audience.

The first track “Miner” sets off with two bangs on a gun-like sounding snare, with a hushed Spunt reciting “I want you choosing me, I feel a common breeze.” As a quiet beginning, it foreshadows a loud and noisy storm.

“Eraser” is the first pre-released track off of Nouns. When I first heard this track on their myspace, I was underwhelmed; I was afraid that they had made a change for the worse, sound wise. Thankfully, the song is just a bad representation for the rest of the album.

What is nice to hear is the clarity of the vocals. Before, Spunt’s voice was hidden underneath raunchy distortion which made listeners focus on the sound more. Because of this newfound transparency of the vocals, it put his lyrics to the test.

Some may be discouraged by some of the lyrical offerings in Nouns’ tracks, which are full of odd and nonsensical word pairings. A flow is prevalent, but otherwise most of the lyrics don’t make sense (at least not to me).

One obvious difference between Nouns and Weirdo Rippers is the early on presence of fuzzy filler tracks. “Cappo,” and more importantly “Keechie,” are the best examples of noise fillers. They are pointless to the album and do not bring anything to the table, except enable the band to play around with unorthodox sounds.

Once you pass the weak tracks on Nouns, “Sleeper Hold” can be found. In all of its vibrant sound, “Sleeper Hold” melds together some of the finest music No Age has put together to date. The track is blissful and finely crafted. The emphasized lyric “With passion” resonates ironically throughout the recording.

By “Errand Boy,” the realization should already have been established that No Age enjoys the restraining limits of ambient and punk noise, as previously mentioned. The bad thing is all noise sounds basically the same- fuzz, fuzz, distortion, reverb, reverb, and so on. It’s repetitious, and No Age should not stoop to such a bland style of music.

“Here Should Be My Home” is up there with “Sleeper Hold.” It is a flawless tune with musical muscle to boot. Randall’s riffs beam through Spunt’s crisp cymbals. The lyrics are autobiographical with “jumped on the tube, just to see you. My heart’s in a tunnel baby, what can I do?”

As Nouns come to an end, the familiar No Age style is loudly heard with “Brain Burner.” In some ways it sounds like a farewell; Randall’s guitar work stems off in the distance like a speeding car in a chase across the borders. The drums and guitar weave in and out of each other stirring up a solid mix of clash and clamor. In the last line of the song Spunt sings (this time with more energy) “It’s not a cop, it’s not a dad, but look what I have become.” Truly sentimental lyrics set to a punk sound.

Nouns is a good album. The efforts of Spunt and Randall are heard, but they just have to get rid of those useless noise fillers. Otherwise, everything they did was solid and shows their growing maturity in the fun noise punk scene.

- By Erin Mae Szrankowski


(NOTE: Due to a backlog in albums and shows, Mr. Dogg will be back reviewing on Monday. In the mean time, enjoy the fine fine people helping him out today and tomorrow.)

Some Kind of Something

Artist: Algernon Cadwallader
Album: Some Kind of Cadwallader

Comments: Upon first spins, I can understand why Algernon Cadwallader’s debut LP, Some Kind Of Cadwallader, wouldn’t appeal to everyone. The lyrics are consistently unintelligible, the music is rarely in that pop ready 4/4/ time, the vocalists miss their notes as often as they hit them, and the band has a tendency to “kitchen sink” their music, throwing everything into a song at the same time, and the album does tend to run together so that if one isn’t focused, the thing will play like one big long track.

So no, Some Kind Of Cadwallader is not for you if you have a taste for simple, straightforward music with limited depth and no longevity. However, for people who prefer their music reusable instead of disposable, then Algernon Cadwallader will be right up your alley.

If I had to put the band into a genre (which I guess I do, since most folks probably haven’t heard the record yet), I would classify them as mid 90s post hardcore. This is music that was not quite as poetic as the early emo of, say, Sunny Day Real Estate, or as chaotic as something like Fugazi or Rites of Spring. A nice middle ground of overlapping guitars and shouted choruses that weren’t important for what they said, but for how they sounded.

Really, the best mark by which to measure this band is the missing link between Cap n’ Jazz and American Football. Not to suggest that those Kinsella-powered bands are so far appart that they need a missing link, but Algernon Cadwallaer slides neatly between the two, borrowing the spastic, melodic howling of Cap n' and the complex, elegant guitar work of AF.

Considering how heavily the band seems to be drawing from these two influences, they are able to keep themselves from tipping into outright theft, cautiously walking a thin line of inspiration. Tracks like “Casual Discussion in a Dome Between Two Temples” and “Horror” are aflutter with calming, yet complex guitar music that rock just enough to keep them from being pure emo fair. On the other end of the spectrum, tracks like “Motivational Song” show enough restraint to hold the band in check, keeping themselves from flying off the track and just making a wild mess of the song.

What I'm trying to say so laboriously here is that the band has polish. They're talented folks who obvious practice a shit-load, and their precision shines through on the album.

At least in the instrumentation. The vocals are a different beast all together. Wild, whiney, and almost always dancing in and out of key, they'll either enchant or repel the listener. There's not too much going on lyrically on Some Kind of Cadwallader, but lyrics aren't really the point. The vocals are just another instrument, another tool to create additional melody for a song. If you like hearing and singing along to every word, this isn’t for you. If you like just making a sound, then you'll dig in.

The best parts of this album come at the beginning and end of the album, with the two tracks that push the band past their Chicago-based influences to a sound that I would all entirely their own. On “Some Kind of Cadwallader” and “Serial Killer Status,” the two best songs on the album, the band does everything right. These two songs bookend the album beautifully, both more rocking tracks that don’t substitute grit for melody. If they can write more songs like these two, they'll be breaking out of the Philly scene in no time.

My only hope for Algernon Cadwallader is that they have more longevity than the bands they imitate so much. I'd love to hear another album like Some Kind of Cadwallader, a refreshing throwback to a time when emo wasn't so goddamn whiny, and was a little more, well, emotional.

Rating: 8 out of 10

Key Tracks: Some Kind of Cadwallader, Horror, Motivational Song, Serial Killer Status

Buy, Steal, Skip: Buy

Red Ripe With Riffs, Rivers, but no Revival

Artist: Weezer
Album: Weezer (The Red Album)

Comments: A few years ago, Weezer released what was universally regarded as their worst studio album.

Of course, this is the second time in their career that this had happened. Back in the mid 90s, critics and fair-weather fans alike rejected Pinkerton, Weezer's emotional, personal second album. However, where that album is now seen as a high water mark for alternative rock and a testament to the fickle and short-sighted viewpoint of most critics and casual music listeners, odds are that good that there won't be a Make Believe revival seven years from now.

It stands to reason then, if we are to assume the bottom fell out with Make Believe, then Weezer's next album has to be better by default. After all, where can you go after you hit bottom?

The Red Album, while miles better than their last studio release, is not the revival that some fans were hoping for. I'll admit, I was drinking the cool-aid on this revival idea myself. After hearing the album's first single, “Pork and Beans,” which is catchy and witty, with a wry, tongue-in-cheek sense of humor, brought back memories of “Don't Let Go,” and even “Buddy Holly.” Coupled with the color-coding of the album and the magnificently silly album cover, I was prepared to be 12 all over again.

Well that didn't happen. What happened instead was I learned to appreciate the new Weezer, which isn't hard when you imagine how much fun the band probably had recording this album. “The Greatest Man Who Ever Lived (Variations on a Shaker Hymn)” is a five minute rock-opera mess, but it's easy to forgive considering how fucking fun it sounds. The same can be said of “Troublemaker” and “Everybody Get Dangerous,” the latter boasting the best bridge on the album, and one of the better ones in the Weezer catalog.

Most of the tracks here are standard Weezer fair, musically; big guitars, big hooks, big fun. The band has been made for the stadium since The Green Album, and that giant rock sound continues here, for the most part. The deviation comes in the back half of the album, which features three songs written and sung by the other three dudes in Weezer. While it's cool that the band is starting to shift it up some, only bass player Scott Shriner's “Cold Dark World” holds up.

Despite the early release of “Pork and Beans,” which had given many people (like me) the (ultimately false) hope that Rivers Cuomo had returned to form, lyrically. The man has never been a poet by stretch of the imagination, but his hyper-awareness of his band as a media target has really fucked him from a songwriting standpoint. A good portion of the album (the first three songs) are sneering, almost bitter tracks about Cuomo's newfound celebrity that are saved by sardonic humor. The rest of his contributions aren't anything to write home about; I can think of some pretty good lyrics and I can recall some really cringe-worthy shit, too.

The band only totally fails once on the album, on the putrid “Heart Songs.” I'd really rather not get too much into it, as I think it might be the second worst song the band has ever done. The lyrics, which aim for melancholy nostalgia, miss the mark by miles, and the instrumentation makes the song play more like an R&B track than anything else. And Cuomo borrowed whatever the hell T-Pain uses to make his voice sound stupid.

That being said, there are a few songs that work completely, and suggest that the self-conscious nerd-rock of the 90s isn't totally dead. There's the aforementioned “Pork and Beans,” and the album closer “The Angel and the One,” which recalls the band's quite, sadder, better times.

Those looking for Weezer to sing about half-Japanese girls and 12-sided die best find Doc Brown 1.21 giggawats, because those days are past. The Red Album, ultimately, sounds like the beginning of a new chapter for Weezer. They might never again write the kind of songs they used to, the kind that spoke to a generation of average chumps with low self-esteem and dreams of guitar solos, but they still make quality rock music, and they'll occasionally turn your head. If nothing else, the band is having fun again, and after the disaster we'd all like the Make Believe never happened, that's pretty good to hear.

Rating: 6 out of 10

Key Tracks: The Greatest Man Who Ever Lived (Variations on a Shaker Hymn), Pork and Beans, Cold Dark World, The Angel and the One

Buy, Steal, Skip: Steal

Brighter is Better Than "Country" Suggests

Artist: Drive-By Truckers

Album: Brighter Than Creation's Dark

Comments: I’ve got plenty of pet peeves, but a major one is when people claim to like “anything but country.” I forget who said it, but someone once made the point that country is like any other genre of art; some of it is really good, some of it is total crap, and the rest of it falls in between the two extremes. It just seems ignorant to discount an entire genre of music because Toby Keith sucks.

Its also a huge insult to groups like the Drive-By Truckers, whose most recent album, Brighter Than Creation’s Dark, is one of the better albums of the year, and probably the best country record of 2008 (this includes the latest Old 97s’, which I raved about last week).

Let me get my criticism out of the way early. The album ,clocking in at over an hour and 19 tracks total, is entirely too long. The band should have left a few of these tracks, like the poorly-named-and-even-more-poorly-executed “You and Your Crystal Meth,” and some tracks do tend to lose their punch on repeat listens. “The Man I Shot,” for example, sat on my chest like a tucker-out wooly mammoth the first time I heard it, but it has since lost its sheen for me. And calling this thing an album is a bit misleading, as it plays more like a collection of songs than a declaration of meaning.

That being said, this album boats some of the finest song-writing and expert musicianship I’ve ever heard from a country album. The Drive By Truckers employ two singers who write and perform songs almost evenly, and their dichotomy between aging good old boy (Mike Cooley) and reformed roughneck with a family (Patterson Hood) is exciting to listen to.

Usually, when a songwriter gets a family, work tends to soften and slow down, making tracks sappy and soft. That’s not the case with Hood, as he takes his love for his family and molds it into something touching, hopeful, longing and sad all at the same time. “Two Daughters and a Beautiful Wife” and “The Righteous Path” are both excellent examples that prove a tied-down man can still produce.

Cooley, while not having the same sense of focused purpose as Patterson, produces some inspired character sketches (“Bob”), commentary on the everyday life of a working stiff (“Dimes Down”), and examines the generations as rock and roll lives and (maybe) dies (the exceptional “Self-Destructive Zones”).

The music may have banjos and steel and guitars with twang, but writing off such well structured and captivating music as “country” is to rob the Drive-By Truckers of what they’ve accomplished here. This is American music, for anyone who has ever longed for the open road, tasted the sweet joy of cold beer after a hot day, or held their newborn child in their hands. Brighter Than Creation’s Dark is a two-man triumph that is both personal and perennial, and always impressive.

Rating: 9 out of 10

Key Tracks: Two Daughters and a Beautiful Wife, Dimes Down, The Righteous Path, Self Destructive Zones, The Opening Act, Daddy Needs a Drink, Self-Destructive Zones

Buy, Steal, or Skip: Buy!

Train Disaster Songs for the Soul

Artist: Old 97's
Album: Blame it on Gravity

Comments: Four years ago, the Old 97's seemed dead in the water. Besides a few good cuts, their sixth album, Drag it Up, played like, well, a drag and lead singer and songwriter Rhett Miller was more focused on releasing his second solo album, The Believer, then revitalizing the alt-country powerhouse that allowed him such indulgences. Even the most optimistic fans couldn't help shake the feeling that the boys wouldn't be back in town.

When bands go into slumps, the pandering usually begins. The limping group looks to please their core fans by attempting to return to their "old" sound. This strategy fails more often than not; either the band is too far gone to recapture their earlier magic or the fans recognize the efforts as hollow and pale when compared to the good stuff. If this is applied to the Old 97's, one would assume that their 7th studio album, Blame it on Gravity, would be a flaccid attempt at returning to more of the alt-country rock that won hearts on albums like Too Far To Care and Wreck Your Life.

Thankfully, that assumption is only half right. Blame it on Gravity does move away from the white-teeth, mix-tape pop of the band's later records and more towards their Texas cow-punk roots. But the album is anything but flaccid. In fact, it's the most focused and well-constructed album since their 1998 masterpiece, Too Far to Care.

From note one of "The Fool," its obvious that the boys are back in town. The rhythm section, long one of the tightest in the land, sounds as seaworthy as ever, and main ax man Ken Bethea is once again cutting songs to ribbons with big rock licks that play like distorted sunsets. While the song is desperately in need of a stronger hook, it's great to hear the dudes rocking out again.

Things pick up on "Dance with Me," a song about naive girls on vacation and the cynical locals who dance with them. It's a bitter, clever track that plays like a mariachi revenge song and is as close to snarling as Miller has come in years. The band once again shines, taking their country rock and displaying it through a south-of-the-boarder setting. Miller's songwriting is a sharp as ever, still mixing his trademark razor-sharp wit and "down-on-my-luck-lover" persona with fantastic results.

Everything on the album plays like homecoming; the band sounds refreshed and ready for the first time in years. All the wheels spin cleanly; the rockers rock (the aforementioned "Dance with Me" and the thumping,jumping "Early Morning"), and the ballads are a punchy and sweet as they've ever been (No Baby I, I Will Remain).

The albums two finest tracks play back to back at the end of the album, and serve as the exclamation point to the band's revival. Album closer "The One," a song about the band robbing banks across the southwest, is currently The Number One Summer Jam at Left of the Dial. Bethea's guitar provides the catchy melody that is the backbone of this would-be hit, while Miller's honey-sweet voice paints the band as the most charming bandits ever to steal a dime. The other standout is the slow, melancholy waltz of "The Color of a Lonely Heart is Blue," which is given density and weight by bassist Murray Hammond's dog-sad croon. While "The One" is more flashy, more instantly likable, it is the tender longing of "Lonely Heart" that will stick to the ribs long after the album has left the disc changer.

Sure, there are nits to pick. The rocking pace of the album hurts a few of the more poppy numbers. Bethea's guitar does tend to walk over a few songs. And the country twang comes off as cheesy shmatlz on one track, the runty "She Loves The Sunset." Still, Blame it on Gravity is a high water mark for a band that seemed all but finished four years ago. With Miller's romantic heart beating and his poet's tongue wagging, coupled with the determined pace of the rhythm section and Bethea's guitar going for the throat, it's hard to find a better alt-country band than the Old 97's.

Rating: 8.5 out of 10
Key Tracks: The One, Color of a Lonely Heart is Blue, Dance with Me, I Will Remain, No Baby I, Here's to the Halcyon

Buy, Steal, Skip: Buy it, fool.

Slight Change of Pace Goes Miles on Narrow Stairs

Artist: Death Cab For Cutie
Album: Narrow Stairs

Comments: Perhaps I don't have a beating heart in my chest, but I never took to Death Cab For Cutie. I've always acknowledged the consistently excellent, if not occasionally hammy songwriting of Ben Gibbard, DCFC's alpha-male band leader, but his consistent topic of choice, the inner and outer workings of that mythical beast called love, always bored me when applied over the course of an album.

Part of this boredom comes from the perspective that Gibbard takes with the majority of his writing. He is always playing the part of scorned lover or forlorn observer, wistfully singing his flowery words of tribute to a woman who will never hear them. Surely the Death Cab faithful can point out a few instances where this is not the case, but generally, its safe to say that Gibbard always plays the part of sad sack.

Well thanks to a shift in perspective (if not topic), and some of the rockingest songs of the band's career, Narrow Stairs is the first DCFC album that has stuck to my ribs.

As stated above, Gibbard's overall songwriting focus hasn't changed on this album; he's still a man concerned with affairs of the heart. However, on Narrow Stairs, he is less a passive observer and more an active participant in the issues at hand. Take, for example, the excellent first single "I Will Posses Your Heart." Gibbard sings, with a confidence lacking on earlier releases, about making the lady in question his, no matter what it takes, promising that if she spends some time with him, he will eventually posses her heart. Control issues? Maybe, but it still stands as confident and motivated a statement as he's made in some time; at least the dude is taking charge for once.

Elsewhere on the album, Gibbard suggests that, gasp, he is growing sick of a relationship. "Talking Bird" is a nice little piece of metaphor that finds Gibbard singing about a bird that talks without saying anything, a pet that he has grown both bored and attached to. It's a little cheesy, but still downright fantastic to hear the man taking his one muse in different directions.

The other good thing about Narrow Stairs is that it rocks. In fact, it is the rockingest album that DCFC has made since their humble beginnings on albums like We Have The Facts... and Something About Airplanes. "I Will Posses Your Heart" opens up with almost five minutes of bass and drum; easily the sexiest thing the band has ever done. "Long Division" is a mid-tempo number that rips the band from their usual plod and lets the guitars do more than the usual whiny meanderings. And "No Sunlight" is the catchiest thing the band has done since "The Sound of Settling." Even the self-loathing lyrics of "You Can Do Better Than Me" can be forgiven when applied to such a pop-happy background.

Sure, there are the obligatory slow jaunts about the glory of love and the pain of loss, but those songs are the least interesting to me, as it sounds like the band is treading familial ground and running low on ideas. And regardless of how much the band turns up the amps, it doesn't look like DCFC is every going to break out of the bedroom music genre that has made them favorites with high school lovers for years. Still, Narrow Stairs is a fine album that shows growth and maturity from a band that deals in an immature feeling. Think of it as the Death Cab album for people who don't like Death Cab.

Rating: 7 out of 10

Key Tracks: I Will Posess Your Heart, No Sunrise, You Can Do Better Than Me, Long Devision
Buy, Steal, Skip: I'd buy this one

The Start of Something Big: NFG is Back

Artist: New Found Glory
Album: Tip of The Iceberg EP

Comments: Finally. New Found Glory is back.

But they are teasing their fans with only three new original songs.

On April 29th, the coral-springs based band released Tip of the Iceberg/Takin it Ova! two-disc split EP containing three new NFG songs, three punk covers, and a second cd with the band’s alter cartoon ego (or just their side project) International Superheroes of Hardcore. This is very exciting, considering NFG’s last full-length studio album was Coming Home in 2006, and then their second version of From the Screen to Your Stereo in 2007. Let’s not forget about Hits earlier this year, but seriously, this wasn’t as exciting because everyone already had these songs.

With their three new original songs, NFG has decided to take a faster, harder edge, yet keep the catchy choruses, and continue to hook listeners with their lyrics. The first track, “Tip of the Iceberg” is only a little under a minute and a half long, but starts off the EP on the right track.

The second track, “Dig My Own Grave,” continues the typical NFG hype, and serves as the single off the EP. Be sure to check out their amusing online-only video for “Dig My Own Grave” here. The boys finish their original songs with “If You Don’t Love Me,” and leave the listener looking forward to their next full length, due to release in February 2009 under the guidance of producer Mark Hoppus.

NFG covers “No Reason Why” by Gorilla Biscuits, “Here We Go Again” by Shelter, and “Cut the Tension” by Lifetime. They prove that they can still rock out and keep the punk alive, which they may have put on the back burner with their last full length.

Overall, it's not my favorite EP, single, or covers by NFG, but it is exciting to see that they can go back to their punk roots and still kick ass at it. The new album in February should be awesome, and it was a great idea to release only a few new songs to get fans pumped. In the end, the boys say it best: this is just the tip of the iceberg.


Rating: 6 out of 10
Key Track: Dig my own Grave
Buy, Steal, or Skip: Steal


- Mary Elizabeth Sullivan

Ex-ATDI Guitarist Goes Country (No, Not That Guitarist, The Other One)

Artist: Sleepercar

Album: West Texas

Comments: 10 years ago, Jim Ward was rocking out in At The Drive-In, happily fulfilling his title as “that other guitar player, you know, the one who isn’t Omar.” After that group’s sad self-destruction, Ward moved on with 2/3s of his former band to form Sparta, a band that put out one pretty awesome EP and two inoffensive albums, never getting the same press / buzz / respect / whatever of his former band’s other splinter group; the monolithic and often stupid Mars Volta.

And now it’s 2008 and Ward is operating as a solo dude under the super-neat moniker Sleepercar. His first record under that name, West Texas, is sure to surprise fans of his earlier work, and is sure to hold them for at least a few listens.

Breaking away from the post-rock that spawned him, Sleepercar’s West Texas has a lot more in common with likes of Ryan Adams or Wilco (hell, even U2 at times) than it does with Ward’s other two big vehicles. Maybe the dude just needed a break after being in such loud bands for so long, but it’s more likely that this quieter, folkier side has always been in him. The album has a very natural feel to it; Ward’s country-folk strum is a much smoother transition from his noisier stuff than one might expect.

The album kicks off, and I mean it kicks off, with “A Broken Promise,” which is an alt-country, shit-kicking anthem with a furious and catchy buildup Sadly, it lacks a dramatic payoff or final crescendo to make the build worth it; the song is the audio equivalent of having some great sex with a lady / dude / whatever, but not getting off. Still, even without a payoff, it’s one of the better songs on the album

Things progress there pretty linearly from that point on. Songs either sound like Summerteeth era Wilco (without the psychedelia) or post-Whiskeytown era Ryan Adams (without the douchebaggery), which isn’t to say that the songs are bad, just a little familiar. If you’re going to make a country album within the rock spectrum, you could do a lot worse than take cues from Wilco and Adams, two of the genre’s best. “Wasting my Time, “Kings and Compromises” and “End of a Year” particularly stand out, with “Kings and Compromises” showcasing some pretty fine lyric-writing on the part of Ward.

The biggest problem with the album, besides its familiarity, is Ward’s voice. The man seems only to have two settings; pleasant, low-key hum and higher pitched, throat pushing yell. When the two get dubbed over each other in self harmony, it sounds awesome (see “You Should Run), but more often than not, these two tones grow tiresome, and can’t carry the quieter, more natural tone of the record.

Normally, I wouldn’t fault a guy for having a rock voice, but it sounds off-putting within this setting.

As far as debuts go, West Texas is a strong one from Sleepercar. While not a standout hit record, it’s a pleasant collection of songs that won’t bore the listener. It’s definitely got its share of catchy tracks, and it will probably find a home in your disc changer for at least a few weeks. It won’t replace the hole that At The Drive-In left in your heart, but if nothing else, it serves as an example that people can grown past what they used to be.

Rating: 5.5 out of 10

Key Tracks: A Broken Promise, Kings and Compromises, You Should Run

Buy, Steal or Skip: Steal

Gnarls Barkley is Odd, Awesome

Artist: Gnarls Barkley

Album: The Odd Couple

Comments: When we last left our heroes Ceelo Green and Danger Mouse, the gruesome twosome behind Gnarls Barkley and the best soul album of 06 in St. Elsewhere, they were riding high off the success of “Crazy,” playing the festival circuit and winning critical acclaim left and right for their album of soupy-smooth soul songs mixing hip-hop production and songs about mental illness, anger, loneliness and detachment.

Despite the dark subject matter of St. Elsewhere, Green’s delivery always suggested that his tongue was a little more in his cheek than he wanted to let on. He wasn’t really depressed, and when he told us that we might be crazy, he never really meant it.

On their follow-up album, the dense and cloudy The Odd Couple, Green and Danger Mouse dive deeper into the depths of insanity and depression, meaning the smiles aren’t as easy this time around. The songs, while a little less fun than the ones on their 06 record, are ultimately more rewarding and, as time will probably tell, better over-all.

Where as St. Elsewhere started off with a triumphant blast of gospel-funk, The Odd Couple kicks off with a whimper on “Charity Case,” a slow burning soul song with a dark, vaguely sexy feeling. The song establishes the album-wide theme of confusion and paranoia, presumably over Ceelo’s newfound fame. “I don’t understand how I’m so understanded” Green croons.

Indeed, isolation and lonesomeness in the face of national acclaim is the name of the game on this album. How much of this is based on Green’s real-life feelings is a question that only he can answer, but the man has never sounded better than he does on this album. Some people claimed that St. Elsewhere was really Danger Mouse’s triumph and Green was just along for the ride, but the same cannot be said of The Odd Couple. Green screams, croons, whines and coaxes with a confidence that stands in stark contrast to his self-deprecating and frightened lyrics.

Tracks like “Who’s Gonna Save my Soul” and “Surprise” establish Green as one of, if not the best male soul singer on the market today. With a classic ascetic and a modern sound, Green is the real deal.

Still, Danger Mouse is as impressive as ever. His cloudy production matches Green’s paranoia perfectly; one could probably get the same overall emotion from listening to an instrumental version of this album. Danger Mouse’s strength has always been his ability to mix classic samples and snippets with strong hooks that get stuck in the head, and he continues that trend here. One of the best songs on the album, and the DJ’s best production work to date, is on “Surprise,” which mixes surf-pop and soul music shockingly well and hints at what a Marvin Gaye / Beach Boys collaboration might have sounded like.

While there is nothing as immediately catchy as “Crazy” to be found on this record, the lead single “Run” is almost as good. Overproduced and overblown, the track is big in all the right ways. Featuring hand claps, synth breakdowns, and some titanic vocals from Green, the track is far and away the best dance song of ’08.

While the CD does drag a little on the second half, and some songs do sound repetitive, The Odd Couple is a declaration from Gnarls Barkley that the “super group” is more than a flash in the pan. They are the real deal. If the two artists can keep this up, they’re bound to re-invent how we think of soul music in the 21^st century.

Rating: 7.5 out of 10

Key Tracks: Charity Case, Run, Suprise, Blind Mary

Buy, Steal, Skip: Buy

Walk it Off, Tapes n Tapes, Mr. Dogg Still Loves You

Artist: Tapes n Tapes

Album: Walk it Off

Comments: With record stores slowly going the way of the buffalo and mainstream radio’s development into a grotesque self parody, folks looking to listen to new tunes have turned to the Internet as resource for new music. Blogs have become the new “Staff Picks” section of the Web, slinging suggestions and buzz about with an almost irresponsible recklessness.

Still, only time will tell if the Internet is a viable way to produce new acts with substance. The hints are appearing now, with first-generation blog bands like Clay Your Hands Say Yeah and Bloc Party putting out lackluster second albums that suggest big buzz doesn’t equate to big staying power.

Add to that short, sad list the boys of Tapes n Tapes, whose second album, Walk it Off, is a strong effort with good hooks but no longevity.

It really is a shame that this album wasn’t better. After the success of their first record The Loon, which was powered by Pixies style fractured song-writing, Pavement-esque guitar riffs and Modest Mouse-y bouts of rage, it was hard not to hope that the Minneapolis foursome could bring back some clout to guitar music.

Not to say that Walk it Off is a flaccid effort. The album kicks off with the frantic and fun “Le Ruse,” a tune that so deep with fuzz and distortion that it’s hard to figure where the guitar ends and the vocals begin. “Hang Them All,” the album’s first single, is a dark dance track with a hooky chorus that will be a welcome addition to the songs stuck in your head. “The Dirty Dirty,” the album’s closing track, is as aptly named a rock song as I’ve ever heard.

Even the softer fair fairs well on Walk it Off. Songs like “Say Back Something” and “Conquest” showcase that the band can sound good at volumes other than 11. “Conquest” especially is a gem, showcasing lead singer Josh Grier’s ability to say a lot with words that don’t necessarily make sense together in a conventional way. Also good is late track “Lines,” which slowly builds from quiet to explosive with fantastic results, even if it’s a tad formulaic.

Still, all these lovely tracks aside, the album doesn’t stick to the ribs as much as one might hope. When it’s on, it’s a very enjoyable experience, but once it’s off, there is no pressing need to put it back on again any time soon. Not to suggest that the album is forgettable, but its not urgent the way great music can be. Given this band’s initial buzz and obvious talent, one would hope for something more.

The production change on this record is a bit concerning as well. The Loon was a clean, but obviously home grown effort, and its everyman appeal was a big part of the charm. On Walk it Off, there is a distracting wall of fuzz through the album that keeps the listener and arms length when it should be inviting them in to enjoy the guitar play and oddball lyrics.

Walk it Off is a good release, but not one that will win over any new fans. People looking to explore this band would be better served checking out The Loon. And as for being the champion that would give the blogs credibility over musical sway, looks like we’ll have to hope the Silversun Pickups can strike lightning twice.

Rating: 6 out of 10

Key Tracks: Hang Them All, Conquest, Say Back Something, The Dirty Dirty

Buy, Steal, or Skip: I bought it, and I don't regret it.

Excuse Me is a Welcome Interruption

Artist: The YMD

Album: Excuse me, This is The Yah Mos Def

Comments: Given that the indie rock world is currently in the middle of the second coming of lo-fi, it's a little shocking that indie rap hasn’t followed suit. Big releases in the past months from the likes of Aesop Rock and El-P have all been dense, elaborate affairs. Not that the Def-Jux crew has ever been a meat-and-potatoes operation, but one would assume that the plug-and-play, DIY ethic that is burning through the underground like wildfire would have made some sparks in the rap world.

Philadelphia’s own rap underground is picking up on the trend, or at least the YMD are doing so. The YMD, short for The Yah Mos Def (they had to shorten it after some of Mos Def’s lawyers got uppity), consists of two friends who spent the majority of their lives playing in various hardcore bands in the Philly scene before branching out into the rap world.

I know what you’re thinking; this sounds a lot like what was going on in the mid-to late ’90s with Limp Bizkit and Crazy Town. Rest assured these comparisons are unwarranted. If anything, The YMD are the spiritual successors to Beastie Boys; nerdy white dudes who worship at the physical temple of hip-hop and subscribe to a punk rock mentality.

On their debut album Excuse Me, This is The Yah Mos Def, The YMD take their hardcore background and put it to work, sampling ’80s and early ’90s-era hardcore breakthroughs like Minor Threat, Crass, Cap’n Jazz and Drive like Jehu. Even if rap isn’t your thing, fans of hardcore music would be well served to check this record out for the creative ways in which buzzsaw guitars are reborn as hooks.

The album is a quick blast of bratty, sneering hip-hop courtesy of B.Awesome and Distro, the one-two punch that make up the group. Admittedly, the album suffers from a lack of diversity, both in subjects and style. B.Awesome and Distro are certainly entertaining, but they don’t have much to say beyond how awesome they are and how much you suck. On top of that, the two don’t do much to switch up their delivery, which is always screaming and bratty, as if your little brother was rapping.

Still, the charisma and bravado of the record carries The YMD. After a brief introduction, the album slaps the listener in the chops with “Charlie Maggio’s Real Last Name is Ash,” an announcement of the arrival of your new favorite rap duo. That track is followed by “Drown Yr Hamster in Nail Polish,” which is an aggressive attack-track that would sound potent at a house party or in a mosh pit.

These two cuts set the tone for the entire album, which is one of chaotic aggression and dominance. The production is decidedly lo-fi, with tape hiss and distortion all over every second of the record. The overall result is a sound that is undeniable Philly, dirty and harsh with just a dash of innovation.

Perhaps the strongest effort, in terms of lyrics and production quality, is “Stockton to Malone,” as it embodies everything The YMD stand for. Cap’n Jazz gets sampled over bomb-squad drums while B.Awesome and Distro tear through three verses, weaving in an out of each other in a manner that would make the track’s title character's proud.

Despite the strength of the album, one has to wonder if The YMD will have any staying power in hip-hop circles. Sure, the hardcore, lo-fi sampling sounds awesome now, but the group runs the danger of falling into the gimmick territory.

Still, that is a question for future critics to worry about. For now, Excuse Me, This is The Yah Mos Def is a strong debut with some serious cross over potential and a good release for The YMD, a missing link between Public Enemy and Fugazi.

Rating: 7 out of 10

Key Tracks: Charlie Maggio's Real Last Name is Ash, Drown Yr Hamster in Nail Polish, Stockton to Malone.

Worth the Money: Mos Def

Ladyhawk rocks on Shots

Artist: Ladyhawk
Album: Shots

Comments: Alcohol consumption is a big part of the rock and roll myth. Since the first power chords were handed down from the Viking gods of Valhalla, any rock star worth their salt has been seen as an insatiable machine fueled by grain alcohol and PBR.

Bands like The Rolling Stones, The Who, Van Halen have been leading this party-hard charge for years. Even newer acts like the Hold Steady and The Fratellis have been pushing a “live hard and forget tomorrow” mantra that is as much a part of rock and roll as the guitar solo or the cowbell.

While Ladyhawk, a rock band from Vancouver, Canada who sound like they should be from someplace in the bible belt, do embody alcoholism as much as their classic rock fore-fathers, theirs is a view not from the giltz of the beer goggles but from the bloodshot eyes of a Sunday morning hangover.

Before even getting into the songs on Shots, the band’s second full length for Jagjaguar records, the tone of the record must be discussed. If there is a better representation of a hangover than Shots, I haven’t heard it.

The album is regret personified. From the lazy, shambling feel of the guitar solos to the strained delivery of the lyrics, one can almost see the band, eyes puffy from lack of sleep, playing their Neil Young influenced rock, remembering the jocularity from the night before, but feeling only disappointment and damage. No band has nailed the feeling of a hangover better than Ladyhawk on this record.

“I Don’t Always Know What You’re Saying” opens the album on a high note, despite the confused and angry tone of the song. Lead singer Duffy Driediger’s voice sounds warn and strained, as if he is at the end of his rope, long trying to grasp something that has eluded him to the point of desperate frustration. Equally expressive is the guitar work of lead axe-man Darcy Hancock, who doesn’t reinvent the solo, but gives it a new depth; he says as much with the guitar as Driediger says with his world-weary voice.

While “I Don’t Know” is a track fueled by smoldering anger and incomprehension, “(I’ll Be Your) Ashtray” is a slow march dripping with apologetic revelations that come one day too late. A sad, loose jam of a track, the vocals and the guitar intertwine once again so that both become reflections of the same image; the portrait of a person who knows it’s too late to be forgiven but too stubborn to let go.

These two tracks serve as the obvious standouts of the record, and the rest of the tracks work off the template. Sure, Shots only has those two tricks (save the 10 minute jam track “Ghost Blues” that closes out the album), but they are done well enough that the similarity can be overlooked.

Lyrically, nothing stands out other than a few key phrases and catchy turns (“I know there’s no such thing as endless love / only a joke told in very poor taste / that somehow keeps cracking me up), and the dark tone of the album might wear on some people, since Shots rarely finds the silver lining. There is joy in everything, even hangovers, but there isn’t much to be found here.

My biggest gripe is in the length of the record. At nine songs long and only 30 minutes after removing the 10-minute album ending jam, people might be hesitant to plunk down their hard earned dollars on this release. A few more tracks would have been nice, maybe something off of their digital / vinyl only EP Fight for Anarchy or a re-released track from their self titled album.

Still, short run time and similarity aside, Shots is a solid record from an up and coming rock band that dare to be the sobering yang to the non-stop parting of rock’s ying. With yet another solid release under their belt, Ladyhawk are a band to keep an eye on. And, unlike its namesake, listeners can take down Shots over and over again without having to worship the porcelain god at the end of the night.

Rating: 8 out of 10

Key Tracks: I Don't Always Know What Your Thinking, Fear, (I'll be Your) Ashtray, You Ran
Worth The Money: Sure is.

Alright, Mars Volta, You Win This Round

Artist: The Mars Volta

Album: The Bedlahm In Goliath

Comments: There are only a handful of times that music has given me a “punched in the stomach” feeling. One such time came back in 2000 when At The Drive-In, the best post-hardcore band in the history of the world, decided to break up. The news of their disbanding came on the heels of the release of their best album, Relationship of Command, the release of a successful single in “One Armed Scissor” and national recognition in Rolling Stone as a “next big thing” band.

At the tender age of 14, I was crushed. My favorite band, in the prime of its career, decided to walk away and leave me with nothing. It was the beginning of a journey that has left me a grizzled, jaded music snob of titanic proportions.

It should come as no surprise then to hear that I hate The Mars Volta, one of the two bands to rise from ATDI’s ashes (the other is Sparta, which also blows chodes).

Featuring the two most creative ATDI members, Omar Rodriguez-Lopez and Cedric Bixler-Zavala, The Mars Volta made a niche for itself making progressive rock riddled with bad Spanish ascents, imposing clouds of ambient fuzz, nonsensical and unadvised tempo changes and stream of conscious lyrics that make a lot of sense while tripping on acid.

Needless to say, I found it repulsive. The band had flashes of brilliance on all its releases, but were too in love with its concepts to let songs develop into more than jumbled collections of noise.

That’s why this new Mars Volta record, The Bedlam in Goliath, is a bit confusing for me. See, I really like this album, and think it is the group’s best work to date. At the same time, what I like about it will turn off most Mars Volta fans.

Fans aren’t going to the band for its focus. By definition, the band’s breed of prog-rock is based on spontaneous, almost violent shifts in music. This is not comfort music; this is audio chaos. But where other records thrive on this principal, Bedlam succeeds in its ability to let songs blossom.

There is focus on this album. Songs are given time and space to develop. They still shift, but the changes make more sense, and are less abrupt and jarring than on past records. The meandering solos and jam sessions, which are still present, are scaled down, allowing for more actual songs as opposed to loosely connected sections of music. Guitar, always a big focus for the band, is pushed way to the front, and produced in a big, stadiumrock style. Solos and monster riffs tower over the record, as powerful and monolithic as the album’s title character, Goliath.

It isn’t a complete shift in sound. The nonsensical, stream-of-thought lyrics are still present. Bixler-Zavala is still doing his best to be Robert Plant, keeping his vocal delivery in the glass-shattering range. The difference on Bedlam is that, where his high whine was grating on other records, it sounds at home here. And there is the guitar to thank for that.

In order for Bixler-Zavala’s cat-like wails to hold up, Rodriguez-Lopez has got to give him something play off of, which he does in spades on Bedlam. After three albums where he was content to play ambient noise, it seems Rodriguez-Lopez strapped on a spine and decided to rock, giving the album wave after wave of intense, blistering guitar solos that would make Eddie Van Halen sit up and take notice.

Also, it bears mentioning that Thomas Pridgen, the drummer blessed/doomed to play with The Mars Volta, absolutely kills on this record.

If there’s a problem with this record, it’s one that is consistent with all TVM records, and that is that it’s a bit long in the tooth. But seeing how every other indulgence has been shored down and scaled back, it’s not a big deal.

Long time fans will be dismayed at how little prog there is to be found on this prog-rock record. But in my opinion, this tightening and focusing of sound is exactly what The Mars Volta needed, and what may eventually save the act in my bitter eyes. Brace yourself people, if The Bedlam in Goliath is any indication, The Mars Volta may have gotten over itself and accepted being (gasp!) a rock band.

Rating: 7 out of 10

Key Tracks: Aberinkula, Goliath

Buy, Steal, or Skip: It pains me to say this, but you should buy this record.

Chris Cab for Cutie

Artist: Chris Walla
Album: Field Manual

Comments: The story goes like this: while at a concert, Chris Walla, a producer, multi-instrumentalist and DJ gets into a conversation with some guy about the band Teenage Fanclub. The guy asks Walla to help him produce a cassette tape, and after it becomes successful, he asks Walla to play guitar with him on stage. Turns out “the guy” is none other than Ben Gibbard, and their live collective would eventually become Death Cab For Cutie.

Since then, Walla has been breaking hearts and rocking make-out mix tapes for years, while going unnoticed by the general public. However, rather than step out from the shadow of his full time band, Walla seems content to just churn out more of the same on his solo record, Field Manual.

While in Death Cab, Walla has long maintained the dual role of producer and guitarist, but it is the former that provides the greater distinction. Death Cab’s two most popular records, Transatlanticism and Plans, were both produced by Walla, and it would seem that his production is as much responsible for the band’s development in sound (not to mention their recent mainstream success) as Gibbard is.

So, what then, is wrong with Field Manual? Fans of the two Death Cab albums listed above will notice a similarity right away. The songs on Field Manual contain the same kind of ambient, cloudy drone that exist on, and ultimately help define, Death Cab’s most accomplished records. These songs have the same canned sounding drums, the same echo-y guitars and the same tinny vocals that have become the hallmark of Walla’s full-time band.

Rather than attempt to establish himself as a solo act, Walla seems content to simply crank out Death Cab b-sides, sugar sweet and syrup thick. Hell, even a casual fan can pick out the similarities here. “Geometry & C” plays like something off of Songs About Airplanes, “The Score” sounds like the spiritual companion to “The Sound of Settling,” and “Everyone Needs a Home” would fit in great as mid-album filler for Plans. Walla’s record is full of the kind of songs that will be instantly familiar without being endearing or substantial in the way that Death Cab can be.

Even with all the photo-copying, Walla could get a pass if his songwriting was anywhere near as good as Gibbard’s. However, without Benny G's pen to give all the swirling noise a romantic center, Walla is just another guy lost in the clouds. His lyrics, while not bad, are not noticeable. His inflection, while not distracting, does not stand out. There is no urge to explore deeper into what is being said, no metaphors to decipher, no literary prose to admire and no reason to look at the lyric sheet.

So what the listener is left with is a Death Cab For Cutie album without the good songwriting. For lifelong fans of the DCFC, the kind of people who are so hard up for a new record that they can’t go three days without spinning their copy of We Have The Facts… or listening to one of the many “Ben Gibbard and Guy X” splits, Field Manual will provide a pleasant distraction until the new Death Cab album comes out this May. However, for the rest (more sane) of us, Walla’s solo album is nothing more than a footnote in the giant tome of emotional indie-pop.

Rating: 3.5 out of 10

Buy, Steal, or Skip?: Skip.