I’m a little late on reviewing Wugazi, but the recent podcast featuring Ian MacKaye, a write up on one of this year’s most talked about mash-up albums only seems fitting.

I grew up listening to both Wu Tang Clan and Fugazi so their material is very familiar. In recent years I definitely listen to more Wu, but then again Ghostface comes out with a new album every six months and Argument came out when I was a senior in high school. Do the math.

Hip-hop and punk (well, post-punk or whatever the hell you want to call it in this case) constantly fought for my attention as an adolescent and still do as an adult.  When I first heard people going apeshit about how good of a mash-up this album was, I was skeptical. I figured if I really wanted to listen to Wu or Fugazi, I’d just throw on Repeater or 36 Chambers and that would be that. My experience with mash-up albums is that they’re usually pretty boring. Maybe I haven’t listened to enough of them, but I often liken a mash-up to watching the Wizard of Oz while listening to Pink Floyd. Sure, it’s kinda neat if you’ve taken a few bong rips but at the end of the day, I’d rather just keep each classic separate. Plus that kinda shit is for hippies and as Jack Donaghy once wisely quipped, “Never go to a second location with a hippie”.

A few of my friends had played “Sleep Rules Everything Around Me” while we were hanging out and I wasn’t too impressed. Therefore, I didn’t go out of my way to listen to the rest of the album.  A few days ago when I was asked to do a write up on it, I figured it wouldn’t kill me to hear what the buzz was all about. I listened to the album from front to back and was surprisingly impressed. The familiar verses from my favorite Wu-Tang tracks and the defining sound that Fugazi carved out go hella well together. Both groups undeniably had such a large impact on their respective genre so it’s appropriate that their music be weaved together so seamlessly.

Each track was a great amalgamation. I respect the hell out of the amount of work that had to go into making such a great sounding mash-up album. There were even a few verses from some of the more obscure Wu tracks that I had forgot about. One in particular was Ol’ Dirty’s verse from “Ghetto Superstar” off of the Bulworth soundtrack. In retrospect, it was a very well crafted verse and more than appropriate for the original track. When it first came out, I thought it was kinda cheesy, but watched the video when it came on because Mya was hot. It goes even better right along side GZA instead of Pras, that one guy from The Fugees who didn’t do anything after they broke up. Seriously, what the hell happened to that guy after The Fugees?

Overall, I really liked what I heard as I was listening to the album and it definitely showed me that mash-up albums can be great if done properly. The album is actually the brainchild of Cecil Otter, who is a part of the hip-hip group Doomtree from Minneapolis and Swiss Andy, who I’ve never heard of. My only gripes with the album is that I’m so used to hearing some of the tracks in their entirety that when the verses are different or some of Ian MacKaye’s lyrics are weaved into the track, my expectations aren’t met. “The Mystery of Chessboxin’” is one of my favorite fucking raps songs of all time. So, on “Another Chessboxin’ Arguement” when the chorus comes up and I expect to hear Method Man and instead hear Ian Mackaye, it’s a bit weird. Don’t get me wrong, “Argument” is a great song, but it just doesn’t seem right to hear that track any other way.

The tracks that most caught my attention were “Sweet Release” and “Shame on Blue”. If you even remotely like listening to either Wu-Tang or Fugazi, I’d recommend giving the album a listen.

Sock Monkey Sound

Dum Dum Girls are nothing if not prolific. Since the release of their debut EP in late 2009, Dee Dee and the gang have hardly gone six months without an album, singles compilation, or EP release.  Sticking to that rule, DDG are now following up the excellent spring EP release He Gets Me High with their 2^nd full length album, Only in Dreams.

Follow up albums have proven to be especially tricky for the recent crop of lo-fi acts.  Those who double down on the appealing skuzz of their debut and crank out another 12 songs in the same vein run the risk of diminished returns by wearing out the welcome on their formula (Vivian Girls’ 2^nd album). Of course, the alternate risk of expanding one’s sonic palette and leaving behind some of the staticy production crutches can either bring about a new level of expressive quality (the recent Male Bonding album) or reveal the band to be kind of boring (Vivian Girls’ 3^rd album).  I tried really hard to squeeze an insult towards Nathan Williams (Wavves) into that rundown but it wouldn’t work.  Let it be known, that guy sucks.

The pressure to circumvent those troubled waters has been somewhat lessened for Dum Dum Girls’ second album.  With He Gets Me High, the group already showed a great leap forward in both production and composing.  The drums were suddenly fully audible and much of the obfuscating clang of the reverb was dialed back for a more natural tone that revealed front woman Dee Dee to have an even more powerful and animated voice than many had assumed.  Even more importantly, the songs on He Gets Me High lost none of their fuzzy throwback charm or earworm quality.  If anything, Only in Dreams feels like an elongated version of the progress made on that EP.  That assessment bears repeating.

If anything, Only In Dreams feels like an elongated version of the progress made on that EP

Therein lies both an explanation of its greatest attributes and weaknesses.  A song like He Gets Me High is indicative of everything right with the sound of Dum Dum Girls. There’s great harmonies, surfy lead guitar and churning strummed chords; and scary women who wear sunglasses at night and sing about their broken hearts.  Most of all it has an incredible hook.  The Girls repeat that action throughout Only in Dreams.  One will probably be able sing along to every song after two listens. The problem is that, with some songs, that memorization feels a little rote. 10 songs and 36 minutes is not a lot of music but at least two or three of the songs feel inessential.  This is my main complaint:

I kind of wish they hadn’t released He Gets Me High and held on to the best songs for placement on Only in Dreams.

“Wrong Feels Right,” and, “He Gets Me High,” are fucking amazing songs.  If they were put on Only in Dreams instead of redundant feeling songs

like, “In My Head,” and, “Wasted Away,” or, “Bedroom Eyes,” the album would honestly make a really notable jump in quality.

All of that said, there are a lot of things to love about this record.  The harmonies are better than they have ever been and fierce attitude abounds.  “Just a Creep,” is among the more fun and gleeful kiss off/”step away, I know your tricks,” songs (of the non Beyonce category) that you’ll hear this year. “Teardrops On My Pillow,” really makes me want to build a mixtape of songs with them theme of, “I cry at night so I won’t wreck my makeup.”  These songs call for an in the car sing along. Beyond that, the album is marked by the very unfortunate recent death of Dee Dee’s mother.  In channeling her grief into songs like, “Coming Down,” and, “Hold Your Hand,” Dee Dee has written songs about death and longing that still manage to end up sounding like they’re about being hurt by a boy.  I find that incredibly interesting.  “Coming Down,” is particularly noteworthy as a singular item in their catalog.  At 6 ½ minutes it is as long as 3 or 4 songs on I Will Be and is filled with, as yet, uncharted textures.  Halfway through the song she belts out, “I think I’m coming down. Here I gooooooooooo,” and is followed by the group’s first truly satisfying guitar solo.  It is a rewarding expression of gravitas that is unexpected from a band that is largely concerned with bubblegum and poison.

Final Verdict: Only in Dreams is a very fun record but one can’t shake the feeling that it could have been better.

Only in Dreams is available now on Sub Pop Records

Sock Monkey Sound

I feel as if I’ve grown up with Death Cab for Cutie, having first discovered the band on 2000′s We Have the Facts and We’re Voting Yes. For me it was an album seemingly drenched  in the uncertainty of transitioning from a teen life into young adulthood, while navigating the the decay of old flames and the sticky gooey new feelings you get at the start of new flings; the realization in your early twenties that life will not stay the same. This, and The Photo Album, was me in my mid-twenties [Transatlanticism was the "Oh, f@#k I'm not in my twenties anymore!" album, but that's another story]. Now I’m old.

Eleven years later brings us the seventh release by the band, “Codes and Keys”. While I don’t consider the album to be my version of a perfect Death Cab album, songs like “Underneath the Sycamore” callback to tunes like “Soul Meets Body” and lyrically is reminiscent of  ”Photobooth”. The album opener “Home is a Fire” is a standout for me personally along with “Doors Unlocked and Open” which brings to mind the alienation associated with their epic song “Transatlanticsm”. ”Unobstructed Views”, the centerpiece of the record, doesn’t hit me as hard as the aforementioned but it still has a solid emotional base from which to anchor the whole of the album.

My initial impressions were kinda ho-hum and “Where’s the beef?”; sure it’s “experimental” and less “guitar driven” but I was expecting “Song for Kelly Huckaby”, “No Joy in Mudville” or “Styrofoam Plates”. Instead I felt (Initially) like I was getting “Everybody Hurts” [I'm not a fan of any REM after Green. This is the best song they ever wrote.].

After a few listens to the record though, I started to realize that in many ways Codes and Keys wasn’t made for the love sick moron I was in my mid-twenties, but the 35 year old that is gonna have a kid. I just didn’t want to listen to it from the perspective of where I am in my life now; cuz in many ways I don’t wanna “grow up”.

Instead of singing this in “For What Reason”:
This won’t be the last you’ll hear from me: it’s just the start.
I hope that he keeps you up for weeks like you did to me.

I will hold a candle up to you to singe your skin.
Brace yourself: I’m bent with bitterness. I can’t forsee.

When your apologies fail to ring true,
(you’re) so slick with that sarcastic slew
of phrases like “i thought you knew”
while keeping me in hot pursuit.

Ben Gibbard sings in “You Are a Tourist”:
When there’s a burning in your heart
An endless fury in your heart
Build it bigger than the Sun
Let it grow
Let it grow
And there’s a burning in your heart
Don’t be alarmed

I compare these two songs based on the perspective that the first verse represents me in my twenties to an extent, while the other verse is representative to how I feel now. It’s a hard transition from only giving a shit about yourself, to then opening up to the fact that you have to consider others when making decisions. And in the process you realize “Hey, I might be an asshole! Why is that?”. It’s alarming and maybe what Gibbard has experienced, like myself, is that it’s better to open up and let it happen instead of fighting off the opportunity to be happy with all the changes in life that come with “growing up”. - CC

Sock Monkey Sound

“I made a list of the reasons I will never call you again.”

Who: Warren Franklin

What: Mr. F’s 2^nd long play release Your Heart Belongs to the Midwest

Does it come out soon? It does! This bad boy drops on June 11^th

Warren Franklin’s first album, Stray, came out in November of 2009.  I remember this because it was the first album I reviewed for Sock Monkey Sound.  Prior to that review I had stuck to event reviews (and with good reason).  Event/Concert reviews are entirely different animals than their LP/EP counterparts.  For all of the musical assessment and meditations on the aura of the venue, etc, etc, the thesis of a concert review mainly boils down to deciding whether or not I had fun.  A quality album review has to discuss a piece of art as a thematic whole, as a grouping of fragments, sometimes evoking the idea of synecdoche, lyricism, music theory, homage, and that’s before you even decide whether the songs are any good.

Both Franklin and my first outings were a bit scraggly and uneven.  His spent too many songs on furiously strummed and shouted rants of indiscriminant origin and down tempo plodders that were largely lacking a melodic hook.  Mine wasted half of the word count with a barely connected discourse on the nature of reviewing recorded music (some things will not change).  This is worth thinking about because, as I said, Warren Franklin’s first album came out in November of 2009. In the 18 months since then, Franklin has toured like a motherfucker* (My reviewing frequency has fallen slightly short of the level of motherfuckery but it is noticeable enough).  He’s probably touring right now.  This is exceedingly obvious when one listens to Your Heart Belongs to the Midwest.

No one would ever accuse Warren Franklin of being halfhearted.  His first middle name is, “Earnest,” and his second middle name is, “Adjective: Resulting from or showing intense conviction.”  One of the things that set apart the better songs on Stray and basically all of the songs on Your Heart Belongs to the Midwest is the seeming transparency of the source of that earnestness.  With some of the lesser Stray songs Franklin was obviously worked up enough to shout himself hoarse but one was never sure why.  There is no mystery on the new cuts.

Tour Mode

Franklin is worked up over girls.  That’s awesome because there are few better ways for music to go right than with a sentimental boy laying it down over his lady troubles.  That’s why no one but nerds liked Yes before, “Owner of a Lonely Heart.”  All of their songs were about post-classical arrangements and traffic patterns.  Your Heart Belongs to the Midwest does not have any songs about the replacement of 4-way stop signs with roundabouts and, armed with 10 songs about girls and friendship, virtually every aspect of Warren Franklin’s craft has improved.

Even if I hadn’t heard sweaty boys chant along to the lead single, “Bro Downs Know No Bounds,” about a hundred times live before hearing the record, I would dub it anthemic.  All of that time spent crooning in basements across the nation has lent Franklin’s voice a new found strength and melodic edge.  Where he once bellowed or let loose an off key caterwaul, he now employs poppy yelps and caterwauls that are in tune.   He has used the new strength to craft a hundred foot wide chant-along hook for codependents everywhere. “I found their voices so calming/out by the highway we sing.  I swear it’s gonna get better for you.”

Excluding the instrumental track, the songs on Your Heart Belongs to the Midwest are lean and quick.  They have been honed down to just the key elements required to get ears open and fists raised. I’m not sure whether it is due to a larger budget, wider network of friends, or just an increase in ambition of ability but the production has made as notable of a leap forward as the songwriting and performance.  Like its predecessor, this album is largely built on acoustic guitar and voice but the little additions and flourishes (whether they’re the jaunty trumpet and tambourine on Bro Downs or the organ on the title track) succeed in adding both musical and emotional nuance to already successful songs.  For an album with one person’s name on the cover, “You Get Weary,” is a notably collaborative track.  Essentially presented as a duet between Franklin and Anthony Sanders from Chicago’s The Island of Misfit Toys (who added background and harmony vocals across the entire album), it adds piano, banjo, and mandolin for a genuinely affecting performance.  There are some real winners on this thing.

Highlight Tracks: (You’ve Never Heard) My Aim is True, Please Return (The Thrill of the Hunt), Bro Downs Know No Bounds, You Get Weary

Final Verdict: I like it.

Visit his Facebook page for more info

Watch for the release of Your Heart Belongs to the Midwest on June 11th via Count Your Lucky Stars Records

*Motherfuckers are known to do a very large amount of touring

Sock Monkey Sound

Danger reviews Callers “Life of Love”.

Callers are a trio from Brooklyn, NY by way of Providence and New Orleans.  Their songs largely consist of voice, guitar, and drums.  This much we know of them.

We also know that Callers’ music is largely defined by two factors.  Sara Lucas’s rich voice and Ryan Seaton’s spry guitar playing that often alternates between jingling and jagged (and a few other silly terms that start with J) passages as he moves through circular groupings of ringing notes.

On top of all of that, we know that Callers released an album in 2010 called Life of Love and that someone connected to the group recently asked Sock Monkey Sound to review the album.  Then I forgot about it for a month while I wrote 33 pages worth of term papers.  This past week I found a Word document in my Sock Monkey Sound folder that was titled, “Shit to review (urgent!),”* and Life of Love was at the top of the list.

This concludes the empirical portion of the review.  On to the less verifiable:

But never call them late to dinner

The album’s first two tracks do much to define the parameters of the compositions thereafter.  On one end with, “You Are an Arc,” the guitar and drums drone and clatter, building a cacophonous rumble with Lucas’s  vocals soaring overhead.  Following that, “Glow,” skews moody.  Seaton’s guitar builds atmospheric swells in between rhythmic drum accents.  The instrumentation does well to stay out of the way of the vocals and the listener is rewarded as Lucas’s voice covers our ears in a velvety hug.  The rest of the album largely fills in the space between those two poles.

Because my perspective is forever stuck in the mid 90s, the most direct and thorough comparison that springs to mind is to the early work of PJ Harvey.  This is a compliment.  Listening to the cover of Wire’s, “Heartbeat,” I’m very drawn to compare it to a song like Harvey’s, “Rid of Me,” in the way that it builds bit by angular bit.  There’s an icy danger lurking just beneath the surface of each song.  Of course the two differ in one notable way.  Where Ms. Harvey tended towards the growl of the blues, Callers take a step towards the jazzy.  Even among the more prickly stabs of guitar, there is a definite airiness to the whole affair.

The title track plays up their seductive elements whole-hog.  With a light steady groove and chiming guitars, “Life of Love,” unfolds like a Blue Note era Grizzly Bear.  That’s a weird fucking description but the signifiers hold up.  The song is legitimately sexy in ways that are very insidious (if one finds the incitement of slow, involuntary motions in the hip and pelvis area to be insidious).  Do me a favor and try this: turn on the song, ignore the despairing lyrics (if you must), grab someone pretty, and put your mouth on theirs.  It’s a good idea.

Highlight tracks: Heartbeat, Life of Love, Young People

For more on Callers, visit their facespace pages

http://www.myspace.com/callers

http://www.facebook.com/pages/callers/40296165589

*I’m very eloquent.  I also enjoy mashing together as many punctuation marks as possible.  It’s a little known pleasure of mine.

Sock Monkey Sound

Cover by Jamie McKelvie

Brilliant release by Art Brut is anything but tragic.

Let’s go back to the mid 2000s when England kept shooting out fast-paced, guitar oriented rock n’ roll.  Bands like The Arctic Monkeys and Franz Ferdinand were at the forefront of modern British rock. As good as these bands were, I’ve always felt that a lot of the songs sounded almost too similar for my liking. I can’t honestly tell you the difference between “I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor” and any other song on the former’s debut album. While they both garnished international success, talk-rockers Art Brut put out less widely-published albums which gained a cult following, including Frank Black of Pixies fame, and rolled eyes from…about everyone else.

As time has gone on, these groups have strayed from their initial sounds, as shown especially with the Arctic Monkeys’ 2009 offering, “Humbug,” which featured some awesome tracks like “Pretty Visitors” and “My Propeller”. Art Brut has changed over the years as well. Having been crucified before for being the epitome of corny British indie rock, the group that “started a band” seems to be ready to be taken more seriously. With more art-oriented and lyrically savvy songs in tow, the band proves that there’s more to the aforementioned British scene than meets the eye.

Jangly and dissonant guitar riffs have replaced the once straightforward tracks in their new album entitled “Brilliant! Tragic!”. The spoken vocals are still present, but they work better here than they ever have before. The name serves the album very well, with self-depreciating tracks like “Sexy,” where singer (read: talker) Eddie Argos proclaims that he’s “Gonna prove I love you and not have you change your mind / That would be a triumph for a voice like mine” and “Lost Weekend,” which recites a tale of a fling with a woman who was flustered by his confessions of love. O, the strife of the indie rocker.

The first half of the album seems to serve as the tragedy. Even vocally, other than Clever Clever Jazz (a venomous attack rock bands who try too hard to be musically inept), tracks two through five are all basically whispered. Though this has been seen before, the concentration seen on this new album is not only effective in terms of track listing, but it holds up with the concept of the album as well.

The album really picks up again with the track “Axel Rose,” which is a blatant tribute to the Guns N’ Roses lead singer that even I have to say is a great musician. Interestingly enough, this isn’t the first time Argos proclaims his man-love for Rose; his band previously released a hilarious song entitled “An Open Letter To Axel Rose”.

This album for me shows great musical development for the at least semi-cheesy British band. Though the album has led to raised eyebrows and shrugged shoulders from longtime fans expecting more of the same, the truth is this is an interesting and relatable rock album from a longtime underdog group. Cheers to them!

Art Brut – Axel Rose

Sock Monkey Sound

This album starts off rather strong, with a heavily distorted and layered opening track that, really, sets up the next few songs nicely. The middle of the album seems to lack the driving guitars, and focuses more on vocal harmonies. The shift is quite noticeable, but not enough to unsettle. “Broken Promise” is a great example of what this album is: crisp guitar line, nicely layered harmonies that balance the effects of the other instruments, and a Jimmy Eat World’s Clarity-esque cadence. Their label, Hungry Audio, certainly has a band that, in their third full length album in almost a decade, seems to have at least hit their stride, but not exactly a home run. Age of Denial seems to be stuck in between a focus on noise, and lyrics and harmonies. Many of the songs that combine both are successful, but the others seem lost.

Sennen – Broken Promise

Sock Monkey Sound

With this album though there is the familiarity that has plagued “trendsetting” music for some time, but the difference comes with the aspect that I couldn’t find anything on this record that I didn’t enjoy. The song “Broken Horse” could be one of the best songs I have heard in a long time, teetering on more of a Sufjan Stevens style, vocal and music, that has taken a slightly different path had he decided to strip himself down. Every song being a mixture of tradition and modern (be it the writing, instrumentation, and production that is), there was always something to pick out of the songs that I didn’t notice directly on the first listen.

That may be one of the things that made this record especially heartwarming and intriguing for me; every aspect of this record was well thought out, crafted, and placed enough that I found myself enjoying this more so than a lot of the music that I have heard lately. Every note, instrument, harmony, melody, and auxiliary sound nestled gently forward enough for you to catch it when paying close enough attention to compliment all the sounds that are hitting your ear. None of which being more forefront than the other, and certainly none of which being left behind by the others, this record in the best ways of description from my perspective would be that of a true treat. It really is a pleasurable listen and a great example of properly written pop songs in a world of, let’s face it, crap.

I feel bad at the fact that I’m not listening to this on headphones, which “Weathervanes” definitely came across as, a headphone listen. My advice to you dear reader would be to release your inhibitions on your perspective of modern pop and indie music, whether good or bad, and take Freelance Whales as their own drink.  Be sure to let it settle first, take a sip or two, take it in, and come back again. Each listen will bring you new admiration to the record, adding more and more with each listen, and leaving you more to swim through on the next. Kudos Freelance Whales, you won me over.

Freelance Whales – Broken Horse

Freelance Whales – Ghosting

Sock Monkey Sound

Punk Rock Covers with a Touch of Nostalgia

By Lindsey Bakker

Cover albums are hit and miss at best. Most of them are huge misses I’d say. Who really wants to listen to a whole album of songs that they’ve heard other people do tons of times before?

For their 8^th studio release, the 2^nd on their record label Sleep It Off, Less Than Jake has chosen to release a short album of 16 television theme songs and product jingles. The songs run the gambit from newer (The theme from “iCarly” and Spongebob Squarepants) to older (Different Strokes, and Laverne and Shirley). My main complaint is with the packaging; rather than listing the songs on the case, there is a list of “Channels.” I didn’t know quite what I was buying to listen to until I popped the CD in and pressed play.

Todd Bridges, Survivor

This album is a hit or miss depending on the day or mood. It is a fun listen, and quick—the total playing time is less than 15 minutes. The song choices though are hit and miss. This may be because the shows don’t bring up waves of nostalgia for me.  I watched Malcom in the Middle but I didn’t love it, the original theme did little for me as does LTJ’s cover. Other song choices just don’t make sense or seem completely unnecessary. For example, a harder punk song for the Big Mac theme. Also included is the Kit-Kat jingle song. That song is so annoying that the commercials don’t even really use it anymore. Who remembers the theme for Pac-Man cereal? There was a Pac-Man Cereal? Memory trigger disconnect as does the song.

That being said, there are a few stand-out excellent covers. The iCarly theme rules although now I’m afraid the show will actually adopt & implement this version. The Animaniacs song is also a hit for me, which I regularly watch. The songs from older shows, Laverne and Shirley and Diff’rent Strokes, do well with an updated ska/punk sound. One of the best ‘jingles’ is the Toys’R’Us theme song.  Quite honestly and embarrassingly, I love the FreeCreditReport.com song that finishes out the album. That stupid pirate song was so overplayed and obnoxious when it was on TV it’s left a mark I can’t ignore when I hear a decent take.

Overall the album is a fun listen but it’s not something that I’m going to keep in rotation for a long time. I’m pumped to start hearing some of the songs live though. During Riot Fest they played iCarley, Pac-Man and Animaniacs which all went over well. I’m curious to see how some of the others will go over, especially the Laverne & Shirley theme song. Generally, they have nailed the age of their fans and delivered material that most will be familiar with, with the exception of the iCarley song.

Final judgement: Borrow the CD from a friend, if you like it then buy it.

I have a feeling more people will be buying specific theme songs they can relate to from this record online, rather than selecting to purchase a whole album to discover tunes from TV’s yesterdays and today.

LB

Sock Monkey Sound

by Chip Copeland

Majesty Shredding = Awesome!

Just a fair warning to our readers, I’m sure when we run our end of year lists here at Sock Monkey Sound this will quite possibly have a spot on at least 3 of our writers lists. Something that is quite justified as well cuz Superchunk crafted one of the finest albums of their career. After all the praise that has been heaped on this record by so many other reputable music blogs and websites I figured that I would jump on top of that heaping pile of indie music fans and 90′s alternative kids pushing 40 with my own take on Majesty Shredding.

I’ve been a Superchunk fan ever since I saw them open up for Sonic Youth back in the early nineties. Yes, I’m that old if you’re wondering. As a matter of fact, this was the first concert I ever attended without parental supervision; hitting the town with by buddies Mike, Sean, and some chick named Maggie that came along at the last minute cuz another friend got grounded. It was my first mosh pit, back when they were coolest thing to do ever, and I think it was the first time I touched a boob (accidentally of course) when I was helping a girl crowd surf. That was the first time I caught them live and it certainly wasn’t the last. I saw them at just about every venue in Atlanta between 1993-2001; The International Ballroom, The Masquerade (3 times), The Cotton Club (the older, better venue), The Point (gone but not forgotten), and an awesome 1996 Halloween show in Athens, Georgia at the legendary 40 Watt Club where Superdrummer Jon Wurster dressed as the Jerry Lewis nutty professor and Mac McCaughan was a Playboy Bunny. Those were the days and rarely did my friends and I miss an opportunity to see “The Chunk” bang away Precision Auto when they came anywhere near our southern state.

Right around the time Superchunk decided to take a break, I decided to move to Rockford, IL. That era of my life seemed to be over and in some ways so did Superchunk. Their 2001 release was named Here’s to Shutting Up for crying out loud and right after Sept. 11th happened and seemed to make everyone, the band, and myself question what the f*ck we were doing with our lives. In the documentary bonus features section of their music video compilation, Crowding Up Your Visual Field, you can tell something was going on. Maybe they were wanting more out of life; maybe they were tired of pogoing in cut off jeans to the strains of ‘Mower.’ Who knows really, but it was evident that change was in the air.

Fast forward to 2010. To say shit has changed in the music industry, since the release of that last record, is an understatement. (I might have to make you eat a crap taco just for stating the obvious. Or eat one myself for stating it in this review.) iTunes was still embryonic, Napster was still the shit, and the major record labels were still kings of the castle.

Now-a-days, digital distribution is no longer a bane but the norm- and there’s even a question whether a band even needs a record label to succeed; which certainly runs anathema to the recent rise of Merge Records, the record label started by Mac McCaughan and Laura Ballance in 1989. While Mac and Laura built Merge through the decade they were keeping a keen eye on what was going on with the industry and taking notes. At least I think they were by the sound of the new album. But then again Superchunk has always been ahead of their time.

Majesty Shredding is a lean, mean, rocking machine that seems to channel the energy of early records like On The Mouth and No Pocky for Kitty. At the same time it retains the lyrical maturity and refinement of song craft that is only gained through years of experience. This is a band at the top of their craft while also seeming to be excited and energized to be the band called Superchunk once again.

Superchunk | Promo Photo

The first time I listened through the record I honestly couldn’t feel a low point at all. The album starts off with Digging for Something, a strong opener for sure; but then kicks into a pogo friendly, high energy romp, My Gap Feels Weird. By the time Rosemarie hits the chorus I realize that this IS the Superchunk of my youth. The same band, just a bit smarter, sharper; rested and ready to rock my face! Mid-point you get Fractures in Plaster, a song reminiscent of Kicked In or Keeping Track off of Foolish. Superchunk has always been able to mix it up, playing fast and loud with kinetic fury, then slowing it down as if to let you know that it’s OK to push the pause button from time to time. Several other strong rockers that scream SUPERCHUNK! SUPERCHUNK! SUPERCHUNK! round out the album.

When the last track Everything at Once started, I decided to take a listen with my eyes closed. I’m immediately transported back, jumping up and down at all those shows with my close friends in Atlanta. “So here’s a song about nothing and everything at once. All the minutes and the months…”. It feels like home when I listen to Superchunk.

This is the kind of album and collection of songs you hope for from a band. It’s the kind of music that makes you realize that these songs, this band, and what you feel when you listen to them are more important to you than anything else in the world. Even though I know Superchunk has always made music for themselves first and foremost, it has always felt like they have been making music for me. That’s what makes them great.

Superchunk will be at the Metro in Chicago, IL on 12-02-10

CC |  SMS

Sock Monkey Sound

Who: Crankupmadonna

What: Their new album, “Hit the Sound”

Did you forget some spaces up there? No. That’s how the name is written.

Shawn Ross Rockin'

As detailed by my friends David and Andrew in their own review of this album, the members of Rockford’s Crankupmadonna have had a long and (partly) storied career making music in and around the area. All pedigrees considered, last year’s eponymous debut couldn’t help but feel less like an album as much as a time capsule. It’s not an unexpected occurrence. Singer/guitarist Shawn Ross had a decade’s worth of songs and the moxie to finally put down his bass and start wailing. The early shows went great (my assessment). The band needed merch so they decided to book studio time and record everything they had. Though I wasn’t there I imagine the thought process went something like, “We’ve got these songs, we’re a decidedly awesome live band, let’s record it live. We’ll do it live!” As a result, Crankupmadonna suffered from being too long (4 songs, by my estimation) and somewhat lacking in both production quality and variety of sound.

When I first popped Hit the Sound into my stereo, I honestly thought they had stepped too far in the opposite direction. That this album has an entirely more produced sound is unmistakable. That it is well produced is even less so (Mike Hagler made sure of that). I couldn’t place the cause of my uneasy feelings. I had first heard all of the songs in their live incarnation and something about the sound was missing Crankupmadonna’s jittery, propulsive muscle. I started the album over after 5 tracks, trying to dig deeper. Then it hit me.

“Everything that night was criminal. Everything that night was dressed in black. Criminal!”

At the first chorus I couldn’t place that nasal yelp of, “Criminal.” The 2^nd chorus slammed me in the head.

Declan mother effing MacManus!

The chorus to, “Mouthful of Booze,” becomes key. The realization becomes impossible to miss. This isn’t an indie rock album like those Superchunk and Dinosaur Jr. releases of Ross’s youth. It’s an Elvis Costello record (a look at Ross’s right arm makes one feel silly for not figuring it out sooner). Suddenly in Attractions territory, it all makes sense. The added organ and noisenik flavors; the wonderfully sneering backup vocals from Gina Knapik; the transparently simple hooks; they all add up to a glorious, fun, snotty power pop record. The songs blow through one’s brain so quickly that you find yourself having unconsciously memorized the lyrics. One moment you’re sitting in your car, concentrated on driving, and then next you notice that you’ve been singing along for the past three songs.

Chris + Jesse = Phat bass grooves

“When we drink/we are the same.”

“Will I always/always be this way? Yeah you will/ yeah you will/ yeah you will/ yeah.”

“Tell me one good lieee/Tell me Tell me.”

These refrains latch themselves into your thoughts. You wake up singing, “When they hit the sound/When they hit the sound/Whose gonna care?” and then realize you had only started listening to the song last week. Do not mistake my use of the 2^nd person pronoun as an indication of this review’s prescriptive nature. I am not saying such things should happen. They just will.

Phil = Hot Licks!

In the end, Crankupmadonna have created an album with innumerable pop pleasure. They’ve now got a fist-raising, sing along album to stand next to their fist-raising, sing along shows. If I made the initial mistake of expecting the two to be analogous, I take it back. It’s an achievement to stand on its own.

Final Verdict: Bonkers; Wowsers; Shit-yeah; exclamatory reaction. Buy this album.

For more info: visit crankupmadonna

Sock Monkey Sound

Pavement encapsulates the best of everything and nothing, just like the 1990s themselves. Everything they represented between 1990-2000 stood up against everything goin on in Rock n’ Roll. Reasons to feel ‘ok’ if you didn’t feel the awful sadness in the grunge movement. Reasons to care one way or the other about popular music’s descent into depression, or the Doors-like cover bands known as Pearl Jam stumbling in the door with Black Sabbath worshiping foils like Soundgarden. Nirvana’s about it as far as the credible American 1990s mainstream music scene goes and they physically / musically stole the Pixies formula. “In Utero” is the peak of the 90s grunge movement- and then done, gone. Most everyone else has been copying them or the Aerosmith soundtrack song formula since. The latter, a quarter pounder with large fries, garbage.

Everywhere else in the world didn’t seem to get grunge either, particularly the UK who embraced Nirvana and Pearl Jamz but questioned just about every other band comin’ outta the states until they really messed up in the late 2000s by giving Kings of Leon the keys to mainstream global success. Big mistake, UK, big mistake. When it’s all said and done, The Stone Roses / Oasis / Radiohead / Teenage Fanclub / and Blur would destroy the American grunge movement regarding quality and craftsmanship of the songs themselves, alone, a bloodbath of artistic song sorts.

Meanwhile, somewhere in America towards the end of the 80s, college kids working dead-end jobs hook up to make some anti-rock rock. Why? Because we all can, most of us don’t. The song “Here” featured on the best of compilation proclaims very early on: “I was dressed for success but success it never comes. Am I the only one who laughs at your jokes when they are so bad? And your jokes are always bad. But they’re not as bad as this. Come join us in a prayer…” An anthem of some sorts, an indie ballad, a rookie yelp for nothing.

Witty, deceptive, lyrics by Mr. Stephen Malkmus met sloppy disjointed arrangements, brilliant phrasing a la Lou Reed’s handbook and horrid, charming, home recording tactics to get outta the gate. An obvious love for one’s literary & musical influences are very prevalent in Pavement’s earliest recordings, even in their worst recorded presentation, see their debut single, uh 7″ hit, “Summer Babe”, from the recently remastered record, “Slanted & Enchanted.” One could argue, “how do you remaster a great record that was recorded poorly to begin with?” Doesn’t matter, it’s about the songs.

Maybe the most important moment in 90s indie rock’s movement occurred with the release of “Slanted & Enchanted.” Let’s note, briefly, months after, Teenage Fanclub’s “Bandwagonesque” and Nirvana’s “Nevermind” during the fall of 1991. The release of “Slanted & Enchanted” on Matador Records could not have occurred without grunge however or again, Nirvana.

Pavement’s marketable success blasted off once the ass-rocking Rush & Boston cover bands, Smashing Pumpkins and Stone Temple Pilots, took off to their own self-important brand of “I’m so depressed” rock in the 90s. Let’s be fair, “Siamese Dream” and “Songs from the Vatican” are very good 90s records I’ve listened to with pop admiration. But, but, but, but, there are no 2 better pop rock songs featured on one record that should have been astronomical pop radio hits like say Nirvana’s, “Smells like Teen Spirit” than Pavement’s, “Cut your Hair” and “Range Life.” The former says it all, almost a big hit but tooooo smarmy, too smart for the masses, and the latter I’ve mentally masturbated to over and over for almost 2 decades trying to figure out how to write the perfect country rock-or-whatever- love song about life, just life and calling spades a spade whatever road taken.

Let’s worship the lines from “Range Life” for a bit, nothing paints post-college life in a’Merica like this:

“Hey you gotta pay your dues before you pay the rent.” Agreed.

“Don’t worry, we’re in no hurry. School’s out, what did you expect?” Agreed.

“I want a range life if I could settle down, then I would settle down.” Agreed.

“Out on tour with the Smashing Pumpkins, nature kids, uh, they don’t have no function, I don’t understand what they mean and I could really give a f*ck.” Agreed.

Malkmus covers it all in this song. The band chugs along like a well-educated country rock band even though they aren’t. There are no open doors after college, that belief that higher education means something more- it doesn’t. In a’Merica, in a small town you come from, it just means you have no job opportunities, a piece of paper and tons of debt. After college in a metropolitan town like say, Rockford, IL means you’re an a*shole- not educated or job worthy. America 101. Malkmus stops to take it all in on the 2nd record, this song, “Range Life,” is always the highlight of any mix I make for friends and family. There are closed doors where you stand, people changing all around you, everyone telling you what to do with your life now but the open roads to do whatever still lead out.

Having friends in on the same belief is the catch. Malkmus, and founding band partner, guitarist, Spiral Stairs (Scott Kannberg) prove that having good friends on the same path in life, teamwork, can take you a long way. It also helps to have heart and soul like band members, Bob Nastanovich, Mark Ibold and Steve West. The amount of times seeing Pavement live were made memorable by the least musically talented member of the band, Bob, a true performance anti-artist. Even on record, he contributes possibly one of the finest recorded anti-art moments in indie rock answering Malkmus’s lyrical pose simply with, “I know him and he does” to:

“What about the voice of Geddy Lee, how did it get so high? I wonder if he speaks like an ordinary guy?” Malkmus asks on “Stereo” from the best record Phish never made, “Brighten the Corners.”

I believe to this day, Nastonovich is the most important reason why Pavement were even able to survive a full decade on the road surrounded by Malkmus’s lyrical wits and Kannberg’s guitar drive. I wouldn’t doubt Bob may be the reason they’re back together over a bet someone lost on a horse race. We won’t talk about original drummer, Gary Young, who was forced out before “Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain.” He deserves his own article or just watch the amazing band history doc available on the “Slow Century” DVD set.

Malkmus’s abstract songwriting style (think word association games) naturally fine tuned itself as he and the band aged a bit. The studio for Pavement was never more abused than on their manic, all or nothing, masterpiece, “Wowee Zowee.” English folk, punk, country, classic rock, they tried it all. The band’s validation to play as something more than Malkmus’s band are what makes the great, “Wowee, Zowee” an even better listen 15 years later. There’s so many songs to talk about on “Quarantine the Past: The Best of Pavement” including, “Box Elder,” which sounds glorious remastered, but only one song should sum up any doubts a new listener may have about Pavement’s credibility, “Fight This Generation” from, “Wowee Zowee.”

The song stands up against everything and nothing, then and now. It ends the compilation, as it rightfully should. The song’s building guitar, bass, synth, drum, subtle freak out is reminiscent of Sonic Youth as it meets the defeated vocal crys of: “…your life is about to come away from the mirror in a rain-shed, generation. Fight this generation. Stop, right.” The 10-12-15 times he repeats the song title met by a back seat driver’s assistance while driving through this thing; music, a storm, life. “Stop, right.” Yes.

For that moment alone defines Pavement on record, as a band, as a group of friends maybe considering going at it alone for awhile but not just yet. That unknown point every band, artist, songwriter hits a bit early on with their musical journey. That’s something to admire, these songs are just beautiful snapshots of a group of friends who stood up and just did something for nothing their way. Little melodic introductions to something larger or smaller, everything and nothing. Start with “Quarrantine The Past” and dig away at the remastered collection as you must. There’s a nugget of truth in every Pavement song even when they appear to make no sense at first. Some of these lines I still wake up with spinning around while staring at the ceiling, every day.

“Fight this generation.” I still am.
“I want a range life if I could settle down.” No thanks.
“Did you see the drummer’s hair?” I did and it still makes me laugh more than an albino, a mosquito, my libido.

AW | andywhorehall.com

Sock Monkey Sound

What: She and Him Vol. 2

Didn’t that come out in March? Yeah. My brain turned off for a little while.

Where did you buy it? Reckless Records on Madison

Let’s face it; every living person who exists in contemporary society has a crush on Zooey Deschanel. Not even necessarily in a sexual relations way. Most people just want to bake a batch of gluten free cookies and hug her for a few hours.

Literally, everyone. Even my mom (and she doesn’t get crushes on people who aren’t Jeff Bridges). Every time that Cotton™ commercial comes on, or she hears a She & Him song in the car, my mom will comment, “Isn’t she the most adorable thing in the world?” It’s mostly warranted too. Zooey Deschanel is really fucking adorable (feel free to take this moment to curse the existence of Ben Gibbard. I never liked the mealy mouthed, bucket of boring anyway. I once refused to buy a guitar because I saw a picture of him playing one. That’s kind of ridiculous). I don’t even have to give supporting evidence for that claim because you all know it to be true. With that inherent level of adoration, it becomes very easy to suggest that any fawning over her music is based more on looks and personality than actual quality.

Here’s why this is bullshit: 1. I don’t think anyone actually fawns over She and Him. As far as I can tell it’s generally understood that, while She & Him is very enjoyable, Deschanel and Matt Ward are more productive and artistically achieved in their primary jobs as actress and M Ward: solo artist. 2. She is a talented, affable, and engaging singer who writes fun, hooky, and often compelling songs. 3. Whether you want to kiss the singer or not, it is near impossible to not be sucked in by Ward’s production. This man knows how sound works and, after hearing the instrumentation that he wraps the various songs in, one can often be hard pressed to conceive of better, more fitting choices.

Now (300 words in) let’s get to the album itself. Vol. 2 builds on the strengths of its predecessor. The first song, “Thieves,” can easily be placed in a larger role of the song that defines the group’s entire aesthetic. Deschanel continues her songwriting persona as an endearingly cute young thing whose smarts and sense of humor don’t seem to stop her bothersome knack for falling for guys who just don’t seem to love her as much as she does them. “What’s in my pocket?” She sings, “You never knew. You didn’t know me well, so well, as I knew you.” It’s delivered with a wink and a smile. She may be crying today but the Los Angeles sun will be shining tomorrow and she may very well be back in love. Behind her, Ward’s guitar and strings swell melodramatically as we’re pulled into the happiest melancholy available without ordering from some shady Russian drug service.

I know this has been said in almost ever review out there, but the magic of She and Him lies in the way that their music is not a direct callback to past music. It acts as a synthesis of all of their influences (Tin Pan Alley, countrypolitan, ALL of the Beach Boys and Phil Spector knock offs, etc etc) that produces an entirely unique combination of sound that begins to surpass the sum of its parts; almost doing for 60s AM pop what Raiders of the Lost Ark did for 30s adventure serials (ok that’s really hyperbolic. This album isn’t as good as Raiders of the Lost Ark). Though they may sometimes remind you of others, whether during the soft, slow dances of, “Lingering Still,” and, “Me and You,” or the rollicking cover of NRBQ’s “Riding in my Car,” She & Him mostly sound like themselves.

Final Verdict: Give Vol. 2 a spin. You could use some easy fun. The new Frightened Rabbit album tends to bring you down a bit too far.

Sock Monkey Sound

Ghosts – Donkey Boy U.S.A

by Alex Danger Stewart

With the new Donkey Boy (USA) EP, “A Song for ‘Last Rights,” Dave Decastris delivers a rumination on his favorite theme. The pain and degradation of low class Rockfordians. Those people whose hopes have long since died and for whom pleasure can only be found in the further destruction of their fragile ability to love.

Are you sure?

Yeah, mostly.

“There are ghosts everywhere that I go in this town. There are ghosts everywhere I lay my head down. You could be my only friend. Take my hand, take my hand, take my hand.”

It’s the long story of still born dreams and the ways in which we desperately cling to each other in a desperate attempt to hide the sound of every creeping death. Or something like that.

With the help of a few Anthony Graigs, DBUSA offers us three versions of the song Ghosts. On a sheer economics level, it’s a great deal. For the price of one song (free) we get the final product, the demo, and the bangin club remix (look for that one on the Edmundo Graig 7”). It’s like the Stimulate This tour where all of those Republican bands played for really cheap to stick it to Obama, or something. Like that, but awesome.

The final version of Ghosts came out jagged and haunting with a surprisingly sexy blues undercurrent. It reminds one of the darker side of Gnarls Barkley, or the Black Keys album that Dangermouse produced (which is really redundant, if you think about it) and also very much of Beck; especially some of the more mechanical songs on Charlotte Gainsbourg’s IRM. I’m not positive, but the Ghosts demo might be my favorite mix of the song. Where the single version is sprawling, the demo holds itself close to your ear, feeling intimate and all the more damaged. Like the laptop ruminations of a man on his last legs. A man who has long since run out of friends who don’t come with screw tops. The Emundo Graig remix is pure sugar. A straight up flash of New Order, cocaine, and hair gel. It’s perfect for a quick desk chair salsa.

So I guess the question is: How do you feel? Sexy? Depressed and alone? Piquant? The “A Song for Last Rights” EP has a flavor for each.

Download the EP for free at http://www.donkeyboyusa.com/

Donkey Boy has submitted Ghosts for the soundtrack of a film. Go vote for it here http://www.lastritesfilm.com/friends.html

Sock Monkey Sound