LIVE REVIEW: Title Fight, This Time Next Year, Strike Anywhere, Four Year Strong on 2/12
Photo by Laura Murray.
Standing toward the back, I watched Paramore-haired teenage girls and their bro-meets-lumberjack-cowboy male counterparts stream into the main hall of the Gramercy Theater in New York City. For a second I had that feeling you get when you visit your old high school. To think that many of the kids in the crowd were born in the same year that I picked up the first Punk-O-Rama, I felt distinctly “cooldadish.”
The first band on the lineup was Title Fight, who I regrettably missed. If you haven’t spent some time listening to “The Last Thing You Forget,” please do. It features gritty vocals over melodic but unrelenting technical hardcore. It internalizes the best of Hot Water Music, Small Brown Bike, and Latterman. For an up-and-coming band, Title Fight is one of the brightest spots in the scene today.
This Time Next Year, on the other hand, was wholly unimpressive. On appearance alone, they came off as the kind of ready-made band you’d see in a teen movie–you know, when the guy goes to find the girl at the punk show or whatever. The music isn’t too far off from this impression. Too clean cut, too predictable, too vacuous. Another Found Glory. “I’m sorry I’m not sorry.” Ucht.
Thankfully, the set was short, and when the lights went down on This Time Next Year, there was a palpable change in mood. The next band up was Strike Anywhere, whose new album, Iron Front, I’ve also reviewed for A&SB. Strike Anywhere is neither clean nor cut, but holy hell they were tight.
Strike Anywhere – Iron Front [Review]
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Strike Anywhere is a melodic hardcore band from Richmond, VA with over a decade under their collective (collectivist?) belts. Since 1999, they have been churning out records of aggressive music steeped in activism and political awareness.
On Iron Front, released late in 2009 on Bridge Nine Records, Strike Anywhere continue their tradition with an album that is musically pummeling, if a bit heavy on the platitude. The band is tight as you’d expect after ten years of playing in lockstep at 200 bpm, and the production has the signature Salad Days punch. Thomas Barnett’s vocals are as strong and passionate as ever, alternating between infectious melody and throat-shredding shouts.
The record starts off with “Invisible Colony,” a blistering track that decries the influence of organized religion, the media, and war in “a glamorous, divisible United States.” At barely over one minute, the song leaves a strong first impression, portending good things to come.
Next comes the album’s single, “I’m Your Opposite Number,” which is vigorously… anti-stuff. Barnett has said that this song is about voting and remaining on guard even in ostensibly good times (see the references to “change”). In other words, it’s “against” the “system,” man. Unfortunately, the message is overshadowed by a slowed-down tempo and awkward jumps between the anthemic intro/outro and the lukewarm verses and choruses. The song comes off as designedly “the single,” with an unnecessary solo and browbeating repetition of the song’s title. I could have–and the album could have–done without it.
Movie Monday: Inglourious Basterds
Inglourious Basterds or The Giant Jewish Jerk-Fest Tarantino Made?
When I first saw the trailer for Inglourious Basterds my initial and admittedly bigoted response was, “A bunch of nerdy Jewish looking actors brutally killing Nazis… did Tarantino just set-up the ultimate Hollywood executive (read Jewish) circle jerk?” Needless to say, I didn’t bother to catch it in theatres. Reviews came in overwhelmingly positive from my pseudo film buff guy friends with a penchant for violence (fittingly). They promised stunning cinematography, a well-paced and cleverly written story, an Oscar worthy performance, another dope Tarantino soundtrack, and a healthy release of testosterone. After the easily foreseeable and overblown finale I was left with most of the aforementioned items matched by a serious case of blue balls. Historical revisionism has been employed here merely for the sake of another undeniably cool yet empty Tarantino film.
On the road to pointlessness there is a lot of fun to be had while watching Inglourious Basterds. Christopher Waltz deserves all the praise he has received for his performance as Colonel Hans Landa aka ‘The Jew Hunter,’ leading this impressive ensemble cast (with the exception of Brad Pitt’s rarely amusing, mostly annoying Aldo Raines and Hostel director Eli Roth’s awful acting turn as ‘The Bear Jew’). It’s a Tarantino movie so of course the dialogue is slick and absorbing and like I said before, the soundtrack kicks ass. The moving pictures are beautiful and major props are due to cinematographer Robert Richardson. The opening sequence is probably Tarantino’s best yet and the careful pacing and elegant visuals from a stationary camera (not handheld) are much appreciated.
Shout Out Louds – Work [Review]
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Shout Out Louds are an indie-pop band from Stockholm, Sweden. They have some boys and a girl in the band, and are affiliated with Peter, Bjorn & John (famous for the single most important moment in whistling history since Axl on “That’s Good“. The song builds with a piano line that is equal parts “All My Friends” and Peanuts theme, cutting out sporadically for vocals, which are unfortunately a bit too heavy on the reverb (think Arcade Fire covering Phoenix). The chorus would be fantastic but for the odd choice of guitar line, which is a bit too present in the mix and distracts from the rest of an otherwise driving chorus.
The next track, “Fall Hard,” is the real standout on the record. The guitars, while still a bit overwhelming, do not ultimately disappoint. The song features really interesting chord progressions and technical but still memorable leads. The horns are smooth and pleasant throughout. And while the vocals here are slightly too Robert Smith for comfort, the chorus differentiates Shout Out Louds from their contemporaries and gives the song a welcome uniqueness that is mostly absent on the remainder of the album.
Movie Monday: Darkness Before The Joker
I used to make jokes about wanting to do heroin. It amused me because I didn’t know any junkies and I liked to see how far I could go before my friends called my bullshit. You’d think watching Requiem for a Dream as a teenager would be an effective deterrent, or maybe after seeing Trainspotting last year in my Edinburgh apartment (where the film is set in the late 1980s). Not until seeing Candy, a 2006 independent film from Australia, did I put the brakes on this jest.
Candy is not as sleek or inventive as its heroin-movie predecessors. What it lacks in luster it makes up for in a pair of gripping performances. Neil Armfield’s directing debut—based on the novel by Luke Davies, who co-wrote the screenplay with Armfield—is a poetic no frills look at how smack can derail young love. Heath Ledger plays Daniel, a selfish dispassionate slime ball who is in love with Candy, played by up-and-comer Abbie Cornish. The chemistry between Cornish and Ledger is electrifying, sparks which eventually burn as they nosedive along the spiral of addiction.
Unfortunately for the filmmakers, the main attraction in Candy is the chance to see Heath Ledger in one of his final roles. This was right before playing one the Bob Dylan iterations in Todd Haynes’ I’m Not There, and two years before his celebrated interpretation of The Joker. It can be seen as a sort of a villainous warm-up for Heath. It’s painful to watch Daniel take advantage of Candy’s admiration, pulling her into his pathetic life of petty crime and indifference. Cornish often steals the scene, giving a harrowing performance that does much more than compliment Ledger. Geoffrey Rush is excellent as their functioning junky benefactor, an organic chemistry professor who makes his own pure grade heroin.
Helen Earth Band – (We All) Talk With Knives [Review]
Helen Earth Band is the latest incarnation of brothers Marc and Adam Allen, who previously played together in the criminally-underrated San Diego band, Counterfit . Counterfit was known for its unique blend of Southern California pop-punk and midwestern emo, drawing comparisons to bands like Mock Orange and Braid.
With Helen Earth Band, the Allen’s have built upon their old sound, drawing on new influences and instruments. Their latest single, “(We All) Talk With Knives,” is a pitch-perfect example of this progression.
The song swirls in a complex web of guitars, vocals and keyboards. The guitar lines feed off of one another in increasing complexity over ever-changing time signatures, all the while retaining a subtlety that prevents them from ever getting in the way. The vocals are similarly complementary, passed between the two primary vocalists and regularly augmented by the inclusion of a third vocal line. What they may be talking about in terms of content, I haven’t the faintest idea, except that its with knives, which can’t be a good thing. In any case, it’s not what they sing, but how they sing it. And damn they sing well.
Diggy – The First Flight [Review]
I’m not going to lie; when I saw a link to a Diggy Simons freestyle on VladTv.com, I clicked on it thinking it’d be good for a laugh. But I must say, the lil man sure can rap and apparently I had missed the boat on the release of his first mixtape, The First Flight, which was released on December 2, 2009.
If you’ve ever seen Run’s House on MTV, then you know who Diggy is. If not, all you need to know is he’s the 14-year-old son of Run DMC member Rev Run. He actually spit a song on the show, but he’s improved much since then.
I had two major doubts about Diggy: 1.) While he undoubtedly has rap and hip hop in his blood, his older brother JoJo is less than impressive on the mic and 2.) Adolescent rappers just aren’t always impressive. They still have that whiny pre-puberty voice. See Lil Twist, who actually appears on the “Make You Mine” track. Diggy’s voice sounds pretty mature and his rhymes are actually pretty slick.
The Soft Pack – The Soft Pack [Review]
When The Soft Pack (at the time still called The Muslims) released their self-titled 12-inch I thought to myself, “This is garage rock.” The San Diego-based band had no intention of reinventing the genre. In fact, it played more like a Best Of. No surprises, but everything you could ask for in 10 garage rock songs, all in one place. Fast forward two years and the band is once again releasing a self-titled album, this time under their new, less controversial name The Soft Pack.
The problem with doing something so — I guess — unoriginal, is that you need to completely nail it. Unfortunately, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, they missed the mark here. Matt Lamkin, whose nonchalant vocals have always been a part of the band’s apparent Cali vibe, sounds much more like he doesn’t care at all versus being too cool to care. It’s really hard for me to call the lyrics uninspiring because I’m well aware that’s sort of what they are going for, but strictly going through the motions doesn’t become acceptable just because you admit to doing so. There needs to be something to justify repeat plays of the album that isn’t “because I’m reviewing it.”
Of course, if The Soft Pack come to town I would be more than happy to pay the 10 bucks to see them live and not just because I want to hear them play their old songs either. I can see this record translating much better in a live setting. Partly because it’s a little overproduced, but after seeing them at Don Pedro’s I have a feeling they can pull these tracks off. As long as they play Extinction too. Answer to Yourself, one of the better tracks off the album, is embedded below.
The Soft Pack ‘Answer to Yourself’ from Felipe Lima on Vimeo.
Andy Lehman & The Night Moves – Lowcountry [Review]
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Sumptuous, melodic, well-composed, earnestly written — What can’t you say about Andy Lehman & The Night Moves’ new album, Lowcountry?
Oh yeah, their next show is at a high school. And the one after that, too.
In Lowcountry, Lehman and his cohorts take a style of music that seems destined to be derivative and reinvent it into a fresh sound in all 11 tracks — no small feat. What stands out most here is that even though these are unabashedly pop songs, they draw much of inspiration from the crude oil of country music, which heartens the thin broth of pop-rock where they firmly land.
Andy Lehman & The Night Moves are an unabashed product of Greenville, South Carolina (I could tell they were from South Carolina before I even looked it up — and that’s a good thing) whose sound would play well anywhere. Great bands know who they are, and don’t shy away from it — a strategy that works so long as who you are is good. Albums of this quality from a young band make it plainly obvious that these guys benefit greatly from a range of favorable influences.
Hipsters Read: Country Music is Not Terrible.
But what really pulls Lowcountry together is the masterful production, which draws the rhythm elements into a space of their own. The one real question mark is how well this album would translate to live performance – since it seems to rely on many subtle and extra-band (a term I have just invented) sounds. But then again, with melodies this good, it’s even harder to imagine a band so talented screwing it up
But don’t worry Mauldin and Hillcrest High Schools, you’ve got a good one on your hands.
Go Rams!
Surfer Blood – Astro Coast [Review]
Guitar. That’s a quick and easy one-word description for the debut full length from Florida based band Surfer Blood. On their debut record, Astro Coast, they nail the clean and propulsive thrust of records like Weezer’s Blue Album and The Strokes’ Is This It. And while some may be quick to lump them in with the growing ranks of bands who have all heavily invested in reverb pedals, Surfer Blood display the chops and the songwriting skills necessary to help them avoid becoming a one-trick gimmick.
Like their peers in Real Estate, Surfer Blood utilize their guitars in a way that doesn’t shove them down the listener’s throats. But while Real Estate tend to smear the lens in vaseline and shoot straight into the sun so to speak, Surfer Blood take a more streamlined approach. Opener Floating Vibes is indicative, featuring interlocking riffs over a sturdy backbeat. While the guitars on this track do explode from time to time, it’s always in the guise of a tasteful solo. By the time the handclaps and “bah-bah” backing vocals come in, Surfer Blood have completely betrayed their power pop leanings and you can remark to yourself, “Man, it is so nice to hear Weezer sound like Weezer again.”
Elsewhere, such as on their buzz-bin (they’d appreciate that distinction) anthem, Swim, lead singer John Paul Pitts’ hoarse shouting tops a series of titanic riffs and stop-start drumming. The key to Surfer Blood’s appeal lies in the fact that behind the guitar heroics and shimmering textures, these are great pop songs. Lyrically is where Surfer Blood run the risk of falling into cliché, as a lot of their songs recall mid-90s emo poet laureate’s like The Promise Ring and Christy Front Drive. But this is a minor complaint on an album that ultimately serves its purpose as an enjoyable fist-pumping indie record. In a year where we’ve seen that term used and abused to the extent that all it takes is some facial hair to be indie, Surfer Blood seem proud to know on which side of the fence they stand.
