Steve - Greenvile Ave. Store

08/02/04 Steve
Drugmoney - Mtn Cty Jnk
Drugmoney‘s album is accurately titled, because it has the epic qualities of a mountain, the slick cool of a city, and a guitar amp that sounds like it was found in a dumpster. Of course, the first thing to cross my mind as I listened to the opener, “I Know“, was the similarity to Paul Westerberg and/or the Replacements. Which is refreshing in this age of pitch-corrections and vocal layering (read:auto-tuning). Singer Fisher Meehan‘s voice is exactly like Westerbergs if you put it in the freezer for a day: a little less flavor but much crisper. In other words, it‘s raw without being unfocused, as are the songs, which have a grit and uneasiness to them but are just as polished as any three minute mall-rock anthem. Catchy yet distinct from the same-sounding rock family, I‘d beg, borrow and steal for Drugmoney.
Rating: Three out of Five Indies

07/12/04 Steve
The Concretes - S/T
Sometimes there are albums where you don‘t really need to elaborate that much to get your point across. The shimmering second album by Stockholm band the Concretes is one of those, I could just simply say that the record sounds like Broadcast doing Velvet Underground with Nico covers and that would be enough. But I‘ll go further. I say the band sounds like Broadcast because of the smooth-martian delivery of lead singer Victoria Bergsman, whose performance is equal parts sultry and sleepy. The key to Bergsman‘s singing is a key to the production as a whole, as the players evoke a sound that seems simplistic but is lushly rendered. Which would explain the Velvet Underground reference. Also like VU, the Concretes present songs that make you feel okay about being miserable. Another quick way to describe this cd would be as an ideal Sunday morning listen. Or any morning. Rating: Three out of Five Indies.

07/05/04 Steve
A.C. Newman - Slow Wonder
For the more jaded among you who feel that modern music is nothing but crap or pale imitations of earlier rock formulas, I give thee a Canadian, Carl Newman. Formerly of the band Zumpano (it‘s okay if you don‘t know who these guys are), a hired gun for artists such as Neko Case and Her Boyfriends, and ultimately the leader of brilliant power-poppers the New Pornographers. The point is, there‘s no gimmick in Carl Newman‘s ability as a song-writer, and precious little crap: the man just writes good, fun pop songs with ludicrously catchy hooks and with a strong, commanding voice. On Slow Wonder, Newman takes his exceptional gifts and uses them to express something a little more personal. Slow Wonder is filled with all the hypnotically cool guitar lines and solid harmonies you‘ve come to expect from Newman, but it also has a surprising depth of emotional content and a wider variety of instruments and styles. It‘s essentially like the New Pornographers‘ White Album. Poppy and meaningful, fun and food for thought. Take that bitter record-store types! (I realize I am essentially blasting myself with this one).
Rating: Three and a half indies

06/28/04 Steve
Sloan- - 4 Nights at the Palais Royale
Whether you know it (or care about it) or not, Sloan is almost as big in Canada as Rush. And, like Rush, they solidified their status as rock royalty (again, in Canada) with their flashy, energetic onstage performances. And, also like Rush, there is a great way to experience Sloan‘s punchy, Beatlesesque power-pop without moving to Montreal: the double-live cd. Hell yeah! Did Canadians invent the double-live lp? I‘ll look into that. Okay, no more about Rush, either. After listening to their live double, what surprises me is the clarity of the songs. Even while being played loud and sloppy live, the hooks are still as clear and catchy and the jaw-dropping pop harmonies are surprisingly spot-on. Although not as many outright rockers are played as could be desired, Sloan pushes through their appealing and varied catalog (all four members are talented songwriters, and did I mention Canadian?) with so much juice and gumption that it jazzes up even some of their sleepier ballads. Although almost any Sloan cd is a good bet, this one is an extremely enjoyable buy. Rating: Three out of Five Indies

06/21/04 Steve
The Warmers - S/T
This is one of those absolutely essential hardcore albums that just slipped through the cracks. Released in 96, it was the only album they ever put out in their three-year existence. This DC trio was comprised of Alex MacKaye (former singer of former Dischord band Faith and brother of Dischord founder, the famous Ian MacKaye) and Juan Luis Ferrera and Amy Farina, who both played in Lois Maffeo‘s band, Lois. All having sharpened their teeth in the D.C. punk scene, the Warmers came at their music from a different angle, adding starts and stops, concentrating on the pauses in the music instead of the phrases being played. Essentially, the Warmers were one of the first bands to produce what would now be called indie rock. Art-punk sensibilities collided with a post-rock aesthetic, with MacKaye‘s guitar sounding like half a riff, and his vocals essentially poetic hollering (somewhere Modest Mouse was taking notes). Combine that with Ferrera‘s stutter-stop bass-playing and lazy background vocals, and most importantly the stellar jazz-style, stop-on-a-dime drumming of Amy Farrina, and you get a punk band that can ebb and flow, that is capable of performing energetically on a number of levels. Farina smashes through ramshackle rolls and powerful bass drum assaults with skill and poise. Combined, they must have sounded revolutionary in the nineties, and plenty of bands today should take a tip or two from them. This is one of the few bands I can recommend to almost everyone.
Rating:Five out of five indies

06/14/04 Steve
!!! - Louden Up Now
There are two kinds of post-punkers out there: me and Matt Hursh from the Greenville store. I like the post-punk that drifts toward disco and jazz, like Blurt, Liquid Liquid, ESG and Pigbag. I also am snotty and dress like a nerd. Matt Hursh likes the post-punk that leans in the direction of industrial, like Wire, Crispy Ambulance and World Domination Enterprises. He is even snottier and dresses like a glam-baby of Gary Numan and Johnny Rotten. I love !!! (pronounced with any three percussive sounds) and Matt Hursh hates it. Maybe now you know where you stand.The killer thing about !!!, and about all the other bands that I mentioned I like, is they totally exude the hipness, and to some extent the darkness of the more screamy/mopey Big Blacks of the world, but without pigeon-holing themselves into basically one emotion: anger. Yeah, Steve Albini, we get it, you‘re pissed. That‘s nice honey, why don‘t you go lay down? Everybody else in the room is interested in actually enjoying themselves. In Louden Up Now, Nic Offer and the crew bring a few more synths and a little more rage, but they never lose sight of the fact that their audience, while just as capable of being pissed as anyone else, has kind of gotten past that point in high school and are interested in ass-shaking. Leave the social commentary to the satirists and writers, you‘re a band, you better rock the party, and !!! is as tight as ever, even as they flow from mellower funk to post-disco indie rock, they never skip a beat or let you down. There‘s a reason why this music is thriving now and that‘s because we‘re all sick of standing cross-armed in front of a wall of distortion (like that‘s original) and feeling our hearing go. Come on! Some of us would actually like to get laid every now and again! So give up your clove-smoking and pretending you read Kafka, get on the floor and have some fucking fun for once in your life.
Rating: 5 out of 5 indies

06/07/04 Steve
The Interpreters - Back in the U.S.S.A.
How is this trio from Philly better at being British than the British? While the Queen‘s subjects are busying copying America(theDarkness=Aerosmith + Van Halen, Franz Ferdinand=the Strokes + Blur + boring the shit out of me), it‘s nice to look back on this 1997 brit-pop wannabe and realize that yes, they got a lot closer to nailing what was good about English punk-pop than most bands on that side of the pond. For most of these two-minute salvos the energetic beats and choppy guitar bursts are peppered with clever lyrics and about a million amped-up ‘yeah yeah yeah‘ style backup vocals. The Interpreters remind me of the young, Hamburg-based, amphetamine-laced Beatles if they spent the last 25-30 years listening to the Jam, the Damned, Supergrass and, well, themselves. But let me press upon you the catchiness, fun, and most of all quickness of this cd. Even on the slower numbers where they add in swanky horn bits the still sound punky as hell. Everyone who lives in Britain needs to look this oldie up and get their knickers in a bunch. It is knickers, right? Right.
rating: four out of five indies

05/3/04 Steve
Moving Units - Moving Units EP
Finally, after crawling through the abandoned catacombs of indie rockdom, we here at the World were finally able to listen to anything by the hyped-to-nth-level funk punkers Moving Units. Was this 4-track EP moving? Sure, it‘d be hard not to tap a foot to it. The wiry, beat-and-bass driven songs throb like the Strokes doing Interpol covers or vice-versa. The influence of Gang of Four is immensely apparent, but the Units‘ exceptional bass-playing and smart way with their simple, dance-inspired lyrics count for a lot, even though it‘s hard to hear a single Moving Units‘ song without thinking of their many more inspired contemporaries filling the same genre, such as !!!, the Rapture, Radio 4, and the Liars. While not entirely a standout performance, Moving Units‘ songs are still worth checking out because, while not the best or most-memorable post-punk combo out there, they‘re still not bad. One major problem for them though: they have yet to release their album that was finish!
ed god knows how long ago, and while it is available to those Indie-anna Joneses with insane scrounging abilities, it would be a lot easier to like a band whose album you could actually buy.
Rating: One and a half indies

05/24/04 Steve
The Fever - Red Bedroom
When speaking of Brooklyn‘s the Fever, I often use the phrase “they sound like (insert popular new-wave rip-off band here) but better.“ What makes them better? Well, on the casual listen, maybe not so much. The Fever blend edgy new-wave and post-punk with a Stones-style sexiness to provide ass-kicking hits that also remind you why you bought dancing shoes. Think of their new record, Red Bedroom, as a completion of the dirty thought they started on their vicious debut EP Pink on Pink. And, admittedly, there‘s not much to delineate the Fever from a lot of other bands out there, namely the Strokes, with a little bit of Rapture worked in. But these guys have two things the other bands lack: First, actual dynamic song-writing capability.
The mood of Red Bedroom strays from sleazy fun to romantic posturing to morbid theorizing and there are ballads and mid-tempo numbers aplenty side by side with the rocking rallying cries. Secondly, and having seen them live I can guarantee this, they play with a die-hard energy and playful abandon that is rarely seen onstage these days, a lot of bands talk the talk, but none that I‘ve seen recently get near walking the walk. Stage fright maybe, but whatever the case the Fever rips a hole in it every night and turns a crowd of crossed-armed indie snobs into pogoing freaks about nine seconds into Ladyfingers. Also, make sure to pick up the EP with the shit-kicking ‘Ponyboy‘ and the great cover of Shelia E‘s ‘Glamorous Life.‘
Rating: Four out of Five indies

05/17/04 Steve
Komeda - Kokomemedada
It‘s tough being an awesome band outside of America and Britain. Pre-Hives, that is. Take for instance the amazing work of Sweden‘s eccentric pop geniuses Komeda who, while likely a household name in their native land, are about as renowned in America as Taco or A-Ha. Which is a shame, because Komeda‘s latest release follows in the tradition of three of the most strange, inventive, fun, and outright catchy masterpieces. Masterpieces nobody‘s ever heard of course. Kokomemedada is the band‘s first new release since 1998, and although they‘ve lost some punch and tightness in their arrangements due to guitarist Mattias Norlander‘s departure, this is still one of the most creative groups of clearly out-there popsters since probably Oingo Boingo. Imagine Stereolab (a band that formed the same year as Komeda, coincidentally) only rather than letting their pretentious keyboard ramblings stretch on and on with seemingly no structure, they condense it down to a clean little 3 minute hand grenade of dance-party. The Holmberg brothers lay down some back-breaking rhythm sections for the lovely Lena Karlsson and her menagerie of colorful warm synths to croon over. Karlsson is an extremely gifted singer of the ‘I‘m-cute-because-I-don‘t-speak-English-well‘ variety. In short, while they‘re not at their best here, we‘re lucky this band has even made a fourth album, let alone an extremely good one and one you don‘t need a passport to enjoy.
rating: three and a half indies

04/5/04 Steve
!!! - self-titled
Never fear, you can easily pronounce their name(just say “chk chk chk“ and everyone will know what you‘re talking about, and if not, who needs everyone?) Pretentious band name aside, this disc is definitely one of the most essential albums to come out this century. Forming from the ranks of hardcore punk nobodies Yah Mos, Sacramento‘s Nick Offer felt he had more than minor threat yelping to, well, offer. Enter !!!, whose seven track, 45-minute debut left indie fans and critics either in the dust or infected with what has been more recently called dance-punk and several other lame monikers. But in aught-one, these guys were teaching a clinic on how to combine the Clash‘s Sandinista with Queen‘s “Another One Bites the Dust“. In other words, these guys are tre funky, with a constant and unbelievably tight percussion section that ambushes you in the first track and never gives you any ground. If your feet aren‘t tapping to this, you might want to make sure they‘re still there. James Brown would be a proper vocalist for this group, but Offer‘s lazy, sultry, too-cool-for-school Joe Strummer impression could probably even show Mr. Dynamite a thing or two in the way of keeping a crowd moving. Don‘t let me forget the inventive and snappy guitar work and monstrous, muscular bass playing of Mario Andreoni and Justin van der Volgen, respectively. But my review doesn‘t get anywhere near describing the fun, intense energy, and outright hipness of this gloriously underrated band. So until their never-to-be-released second disc comes out, grab this one and know your money‘s well-spent.
Rating: Five out of five indies

04/19/04 Steve
Elf Power - walking with the beggar boys
As much fun as the whole elephant six ride has been, I have a suspicion we may be nearing the end of the road. With new releases by the eighteen million side projects of the one hundred and forty-five thousand successful E6 bands (which all amounts to about seven and a half musicians) coming out every other day, these experimental indie-popsters may be pushing the limit on strange, xylophone-laden lo-fi beatles sound-alikes. And if you think that was a chewy sentence, you haven‘t heard the names of elephant six “art projects“ such as Olivia Tremor Control, Apples in Stereo, Neutral Milk Hotel and Magenta Grapefruit Casino. Okay, I made the last one up, but needless to say what once was the height of indie avant-garde is now becoming strangely formulaic. Enter Athens‘ understated pop hermits Elf Power. Struggling in true indie obscurity (not the fake obscurity that acts like modest mouse “suffer“ through), Laura Carter and Andrew Reiger held true to their peculiar pop sensibi!
lities. But somewhere along the line they must have realized that pop sounds best when you cut out the four track and the violas and distortion for no reason. Recording techniques have improved over the last century, why don‘t you take advantage? What works for talent less hacks such as Death Cab for Cutie can work for good bands too. And so, with the help of refugees of other indie no-hitters (the Glands‘ Craig McQuiston in particular, plus a
couple of former Tremor Controllers), Elf Power has released an album that not only stands up to their unrecognized talent in the past, but actually has a chance to be bought my actual human beings on this planet. Here‘s to it. Rating: Three out of Five Indies

03/29/04 Steve
The Rogers Sisters - Purely Evil
Brooklyn‘s Rogers Sisters (they‘re actually sisters, and the one who plays drums is actually good!) get their sound from equal parts B-52s danceable new wave and Gang of Four pseudo-political leanings, but it‘s definitely tipped in favor of having a good time. Which is refreshing, because this band easily could have gone the intensely political punk route, boring us all to tears. Also, I‘m sure the allure of being a kill rock stars knock off “riot -grrl“ band was tempting also. Luckily, having a male bass player(Miyuki Furtado) who acts as more than window dressing helps, and he actively participates in the catchy, kitchy, call and response vocals, making sure this band comes off as Rezillos-inspired party punk taken to its modern conclusion(i.e. faster, sexier, much more urgent). Perfect thing to rock before, during and after the party.

03/22/04 Steve
Beat Happening - Jamboree reissue
This is the big brass indie ring, kids. Change your life, annoy your parents, listen to this album and find out what punk really means. It‘s not about how fast and furious you play, it‘s about having the stones to say what‘s on your mind, even if it‘s simple and warm. One guitar, simply played. One drum kit, simply played. Add clever lyrics about childhood love and sunny summer fun. Mix them with Calvin Johnson‘s Lee Hazelwood, off-key yet mesmerizing baritone and Heather Lewis‘s pretty, incredibly fragile voice. Serve to enjoyment. That‘s it. Minor Threat rules and all, but for the ten and a half hours a day you‘re not pissed off, follow the Beat.
Rating: Four and a half out of Five indies

03/22/04 Steve
The Von Bondies - Pawn Shoppe Heart
(I‘m reviewing their live show too)
Yes, he got his ass took like a chump by Jack White, laugh at it, get it out of your system.
It‘s too bad Jack White‘s cds get a thorough curb-check by this little number.
Detroit‘s emergency room darlings the Von Bondies have everything you could possibly want in a rock‘n‘roll band. They‘re young, hot, with good songs, and they can play. They have a frontman who can front, namely Jason Stollsteimer, who plays paint-peeling guitar riffs while screaming so hard your garage door opens. Back it with Don Blum‘s oversized, sadistic drums, so fast and heavy your triceps hurt just hearing it. These two remind me of Cream if Clapton and Ginger Baker had decided ‘hey, why don‘t we kick ridiculously insane ass like we were invading fucking Poland?‘ To either side of these madmen is the rhythm section, and let me first say they are both incredibly hot young things. These girls play stomp-till-your-boot-breaks hard and fast, and with such sleazy style that Guns‘n‘Roses must be spinning in their graves (What, they‘re not dead? Not even Izzy? Oh well.) Carrie Smith‘s bass in particular is a devilish, slinky sound, both hypnotizing and well, it makes you want to move your awkward, white body in ways you should probably do only at home. Marcie Bolen (who could be mistaken in her playing for Marc‘s granddaughter, except he rules a little more), formerly of the Slumber Party and now currently residing in my wet dream, ! plays a solid twangy catchy rhythm guitar, backing Stollsteimer‘s leads with sharp, impressive backbeat.
You combine all this stuff and you get..well, just shut up and buy it. In the howls of the Bondies‘, C‘mon C‘mon. These guys will be rocking your prom night for the next few years while White and Co. will be sitting in detention.
Rating: Four and a half out of five indies

02/16/04 Steve
Need New Body - UFO
You begin this cd with a rickety, off-balance beat, piano plunking, and a finger sliding down and electric bass string. About twenty seconds into this, some strange computer or 8-bit video game processor takes over, and it‘s as if some radioactive mega-man is trying his hardest to jam out, and he‘s kind of failing. And just when you think you may have failed, and purchased the wrong cd, the second track “Hotshot“ tears into gear. Heavy heavy 4/4 lead-footed drumbeating, guitar fuzz, and background chanting make you think that seventies weirdos Chrome are back and in effect, but with a piano player thrown in. This fun little rabble-rouser, complete with silly falsetto humming, closes up after a genuine flurry of explosive drums and hi-hats, and then you are confronted with the sudden silence and strange smoky folk of “moondear“, which seems to be sung by a baby Tom Jones who occasionally snorts helium. “it was strong because we didn‘t play too long,“ the singer croons, before the combo is off again to slash through other genres. It is by this point, hopefully, that you become a disciple of Need New Body.
This is what critics are talking about when they use the terms ‘experimental pop‘ and ‘post-rock‘. And while post-rock is kind of a cop-out, you definitely get the feeling that this band is deconstructing and building from the ashes of the past 40 years of music. It‘s true that comparisons could be made to fellow post-rockers like Godspeed You Black Emporer and indy-funk-rock like !!!, but comparisons could also be made to Neu! and Frank Zappa at his catchiest and his most obtuse. Make no bones about it, this is not an easy album to follow, and some of the many experiments with style don‘t exactly shine, but that makes the times when they succeed all the more fun to listen to. It‘s refreshing to hear a band who‘s not calculated for effect, but rather who enjoys goofing around, dabbling, and seeing where different paths may lead. There‘s kind of a jazz philosophy to this sort of music, and takes real stones (and/or pretension) for Need New Body to believe in its audience, that the right people will get it. It also takes as much faith in the future to listen to it, but the results can be extremely rewarding

Rating: Three and a half indies

02/1/04 Steve
Southern Culture on the Skids - Mojo Box
After hearing even the first track of the new Southern Culture album, it‘s clear to the ear that Rick Miller has not lost any of his song-writing savvy, and that SCOTS clearly still have their Mojo intact. Which was entirely in question, given yet another lineup change (the departure of keyboardist Chris Bess). Never a band with the steadiest of rosters, Southern Culture has also had another problem plaguing it throughout it‘s career: the novelty factor. As much fun as it is to listen to cheesy hillbilly rocknrollers, too much of a good thing can leave a bad taste in your mouth. Southern Culture, like the Reverend Horton Heat and others, has always been a band that produced better singles than albums, and that‘s just the way rockabilly goes, I suppose. But for me and I‘m assuming others, the real meat on music like that is not the lowbrow humor or trailer-park gentrification of the lyrics, but the kinetic bump and boogie of a good southern-fried rhythm section, a twangy and tangy guitar line or two, and a dippity-done up frontman howling over the boil. That‘s what‘s so exciting about the type of music that Miller and Co. pump out, not the comic relief of it, that‘s just window-dressing. And it appears with Mojo Box that SCOTS have learned that lesson and the result is a slick little record that bounces and bubbles with a good beat and strong songs, for the most part. And while covering sixties mod greats the Creation‘s “Biff Bang Pow“ was a brilliant choice, as adding a little twang of ranch dressing to the number improves it dramatically, covering the Gun Club‘s “Fire of Love“ was not. I mean, honestly, what is a hick outfit like Southern Culture on the Skids going to be able to bring to a hard, dark, thrash-rock song like that?

Rating: Three of Five Indies

02/1/04 Steve
Poster Children - No More Songs About Sleep and Fire
“How did I get so lucky to see you again?‘ Rick Valentin hollers in “Sugarfriend,“ the third track on Poster Children‘s new album, No More Songs About Sleep and Fire. Well, Rick, it‘s kind of a long story.
For me, I remember the time in 1996 when I finally gave my high school chum my much agonized over Poster Children/They Might Be Giants mix tape. It was then one of my most supreme accomplishments, and to say I was shocked when my friend brought it back the next day and laughingly told me it was ‘shitty‘ would be an understatement. Little did I realize that this was the mid-nineties, the grunge era. My high school friends, Pearl Jam and Primus fans every last one of them, were not willing to accept lyrics that weren‘t muttered to you over a subterranean bassline by a guy who looked like he‘d been sleeping on your couch for the last nine months. They were not interested in bright pop-punk sung by be-spectacled guys who obviously had had haircuts recently.
But now, at last, almost a decade later, it seems the Poster Children‘s time has finally come. Their self-styled ‘post-wave‘ brand of keyboard backed power-pop could not fit in better with current trend-setters like hot hot heat, the Rapture, and especially the New Pornographers. Ladies and gentlemen, we are living in the shadow of a post-punk and new wave revival, so it‘s extremely satisfying to listen to a band that‘s been determinedly bouncing to their own drumbeat since (gasp!) 1987, and realizing that they finally found their audience. And, on top of that, No More Songs could just be their best album to date.
>From the opening salvos of “Jane“ it is clear that Rick Valentin, Rose Marshack and crew are taking names and going for broke. They don‘t take a breath, but keep the intensity punched up almost the entire album, allowing them to do what they do best: combine volatile progressions and intelligent, faux-intense lyrics with an undeniable air of, well, fun. Marshack‘s hip and tricky bass slithers around the volcanic mania of the Valentin brothers‘ unbelievably overdriven guitars, with a foot-tapping-is-required backbeat thrown in that‘s impossible to refuse. As if the music wasn‘t zealously amped already, somewhere around track six or seven the Children begin upping the ante with each song, the fanatic, danceable mania building and building until you think they can never pull it back from the brink, but somehow they do. All in all, the album whips its listener into a honest-to-god fervor, turning the hippest of shoegazers into air-guitaring, head-bobbing believers.
But does maturity and experience defeat youth and energy? After all, the Poster Children are dinosaurs compared to acts such as Interpol and the prepubescent hot hot heat. Sure, the catchy, hook-laden dance-punk that people like the Children invented is the flavor of choice right now, but that could be due partially to the fact that the bands playing right now are young and good-looking. The Children, for all their bombast and energy, are probably old enough to be the parents of most of their potential fans.
Then again, maybe that‘s an asset. This album is every bit as polished as it is jaw-droppingly raw. I mean let‘s face it: the Poster Children were a tight little combo in 1998, and they‘ve only improved over time. Also, with seven albums under their belt, they know how to write infectious songs, and fans of these young whippersnappers are going to have to suffer through their bad experimental albums before they get to the Children‘s level. Like a fellow band of middle-aged indie-poppers, the New Pornographers, Poster Children have suffered through the brooding nineties alternative rock fiasco with smiles on their faces and their medium-sized amps turned way the hell up. Now, after they‘ve had their naps, they can still crank it up and enjoy their well-deserved renaissance.

RATING: Five out of Five Indies