Scroll down for the latest releases by Frisbie, Crowded House, The Effigies, Maximo Park, Jason Falkner, Dolly Varden, Ian Hunter, Paul McCartney, The Pillbugs and The Bees

Frisbie
New Debut

(Appendix)

digfrisbie.com

Frisbie had to take a detour in order to get to this point, the release of their second studio album. Band leaders Steve Frisbie and Liam Davis had to take detours caused by bad luck and the resulting personnel changes. That the new record sounds, for the most part, like a logical progression from 2000's The Subversive Sounds Of Love is a testament to both the talent and perseverance of Frisbie and Davis.

Frisbie and Davis are joined by a new rhythm section B drummer Gerald Dowd (best known for his work backing Robbie Fulks) and on bass, Matt Thompson (who also deserves kudos for his fine production). Dowd and Thompson insure that there is no drop off in the quality of musicianship. The Frisbie sound is part of the tradition of great melodic pop that the Beatles beget in the ‘60s. The reference points are familiar, Big Star, The Beatles, The Posies, Matthew Sweet. What gives the band an identity are the individual and collective vocal talents of Frisbie and Davis. They prove yet again that a special blend of voices can make a band stand out right away. On this album, Steve and Liam carry on what I would imagine to be the Frisbie mission statement to build on the traditions they embody, while twisting them with lyrics laden with imagery and unexpected rhythms, melodies, and timbres.

This is evident right from the get-go on New Debut. This song may or may not be alluding to the band itself, as certainly this album represents the debut of the Mach II version of Frisbie. There are allusions to bitch[ing] about stolen stripes and how others are “dyin’ to see what’s left of you,” and in the telling middle eight: “and the kids are all carryin’ on/when you come round/will the kids even know you were gone?” Does this represent a worry as to whether the fans will stick around?

Beyond this guessing game, New Debut embodies the musical principles I referenced above, the mid-tempo verses with creative drumming, a sparkling lead guitar line (kind of a less glammy Elliot Easton-type part), and a chorus dependent upon the extremely special blend of the voices of Frisbie and Davis. Moreover, the production is a bit stylized, compressing the vocals in one spot, highlighting the woodblock elsewhere, little touches to be sure, but much appreciated. Where the song goes from good to great is after the final instrumental break, when it slows down, with Frisbie singing dolefully over an acoustic guitar and some keyboards, as the song goes to a sudden fade out. Competing emotions wrestle here, as hopefulness competes with trepidation.

Coming right after the New Debut the band takes a look back at its true debut, reviving the Davis sung “Disaster”. Whereas the Subversive Sounds rendition of this song was lilting and loping, this rendition takes a more straightforward pop-rock approach. The guitars are crunchier, and the whole thing is a bit more forceful. The song is equally impressive in this new version. Another older Frisbie song, “Yes Impossible”, finally makes it onto a recording, sporting a new arrangement. For years, the band did the song in a classic Britpop shuffle style. Now, it’s more of a driving guitar pop song. Under this new arrangement, the melody is not as rooted to the rhythm, so much as it is laid on top of it. Yet, the middle eight is still the same as the original. This recording will likely divide long time fans those new to the song will likely wonder what all the fuss is about, and just smile and bop their heads. But no one will disagree about “Lather”, the album closer, which is simply a classic Frisbie track, which sounds like it could have come off of the debut.

One thing hasn’t changed one bit. Frisbie still can raise the roof with an anthemic crescendo, sometimes building to it and sometimes making seem like it came out of nowhere. For example, “I Speak Your Mind” is a pulsing, urgent number, Davis belting out the verses, littered with cool internal rhymes. It's a great combo of frantic melody and galloping rhythm. The trick of the song is it slows down, after speeding up, and then...explodes in grandeur in the chorus. The song is already insinuating and memorable and that great chorus takes it to the heights.

Its interesting how some of the same devices are used on “The Main Complaint”, yet the song has a whole different feel then anything the band has done before. The song comes in on clipped guitar chords that show a bit of an art-pop bent (if you knew that they’ve been dropping Brian Eno covers in their live sets, that might help explain things) -- this could turn into a Mission Of Burma song. Well, until the falsetto vocals kick in, again grounding the song in rhythm, while accenting the vocal line with cool distorted lead guitar lines. The rhythm slows and picks up a bit, back and forth. The song simply builds tension, releases it a bit during the Beatle-y middle eight, and then they head back to the killer main riff, throw in one more verse, and pick up the tempo slightly at the end. This builds the tension that doesn’t quite release and then...scene! So much happens in just over three minutes on this excellent song.

It’s appropriate that what might be the most accessible song on the disc is subverted by the lyrics. Or rather, one word in the lyrics. “S.F.B.” sounds like a radio hit. Mixing Who-inspired keyboards (sometimes they sound like the repeating patterns found on the classic Who’s Next album) with a modern adult power pop groove that is akin to Semisonic, yet not imitative, the song swells to a chorus that anyone can sing along with...though not everyone will. “You’re so fucking beautiful/it’s hard to be in a room with you/and I want to get/want to get out now. It’s so radio ready -- do you bleep it out? Substitute friggin or fricking? That’s for others to figure out the easy part is that I cant get the chorus out of my head. (Note – the band will be releasing this as a single, blanking out the ‘ucking' part.)

New Debut affirms that Frisbie is still on the right path. The strongest criticism I can level at this record is that it's a bit skimpy with only 10 tracks. But the 10 tracks are memorable, imaginative and affecting. Let's just hope that the wait for the next Frisbie album isn’t so long.

Crowded House
Time On Earth

(ATO)

atorecords.com

Not only was Crowded House was consistently excellent over the course of its first four albums, each album was distinctive. The debut was simply a matter of establishing the bands style and sound, and was, of course, a runaway hit. Temple Of The Low Men was infused with more darkness and mystery, at times displaying a seething intensity. Things got a bit poppier during Tim Finn’s stint with the band on Woodface. And working with Youth gave Together Alone its own character and texture.

After the death by suicide of drummer Paul Hester, Neil Finn and Nick Seymour are back together once more, with Mark Hart, who played keys on the last album, back in tow, and new drummer Matt Sherrod playing drums on some tracks. This project started before the reformation, and it, in some respects, is more in line with Finn’s two solo albums than the four prior group efforts. But the somber mood is fitting for an album dedicated to Hester, and, yes, makes this a distinctive fifth album.

It is not, however, an immediately compelling album. Indeed, after a few listens, I was wondering if this was the first dud released under the Crowded House name. The album unfolds with more plays, and is particularly strong in the second half. Finn’s lyrics are a bit more direct than usual and the songs are so plaintive. Moreover, the reserved mood of the album becomes an asset when more time is spent with it.

Hester’s death permeates this album, and a number of songs seem to allude to it, in some fashion. This is immediately apparent on the opening number, “Nobody Wants To”. This song could certainly be interpreted as coming from the perspective of someone suicidal: “nobody wants to think about it/nobody wants to talk about it...they make it go away/pretending that it’s all OK.” The song is typical of Finn’s work the past decade (or two), with an effortless melody and empathetic vocal that shows a subtle defiance as the song progresses, as Finn sings about the importance of talking things out.

While sung to a lover, a change of gender could easily turn the powerful “Silent House” into a song about a former comrade. The gentle guitar playing and steady build of the song, as Finn surveys a room with objects, swells into the chorus: “I will try to connect/all the pieces you left...I’ll remember the years/when your mind was still clear/all the laughter and light/that filled up this silent house.” What really hits hard about this song is how big Finn could have made it -- this melody could raise the rooftops -- but it’s all measured, with large emotions made startlingly intimate. This ranks with prior classic Crowded House songs.

“Walked Her Way Down” is on par with “Hole in the River”, as it is cut from the same cloth as that great tune from Crowded Houses 1986 debut. This song illustrates an ability that few songwriters possess, as Finn pulls an unbelievable chorus melody out of a foreboding musical setting. The verses are claustrophobic and rooted in the steady rhythm, and then it turns into something lovely and comfortable. I may have written this before, but Andy Partridge may the only songwriter who is better at marrying difficult musical ideas with smooth melodic ones. This song also has some illusions to the drummer, though I don’t know if they have anything to do with Hester.

Although this album isn’t wholly somber, only two songs could really be considered upbeat. “Even a Child” sports ringing guitars and is full of positive vibes. Finn is singing again about opening up and believing in yourself, while providing as much support as possible. Then there’s the outright poppy “She Called Up”, which is downright bouncy, in the tradition of Finn tunes like “Something So Strong” and “She Will Have Her Way”. Both of these songs are on the first half of the disc, and well positioned, to keep things from getting too serious too early.

Near the end of the disc, this isn’t an issue. The album ends with three fantastic songs. “Transit Lounge” is atmospheric, with Beth Rowley playing the role of an announcer over an airport announcement system (and later as a stunning backing vocalist). After a chilly beginning, the song actually has a light R & B rhythm as Finn seems to posit being stuck waiting for your airplane as a metaphor for sitting around figuring out what to do with your life. The layers of sound and twists and turns of this song make this one of the best band efforts, boding well for future releases. This is followed by the striking “You Are the One to Make Me Cry”, a downcast ballad with Finn singing in a lower register. It’s a very intimate recording that is extremely well produced, from the reverb on the electric piano to the distant strings that melt into the foundation of the track. Finn has never sounded so soulful, moving up higher in his range to where you think his voice might crack.

This sets up the brilliant closing track, “People Are Like Suns”. This is a summation of Finn’s musings on life and mortality throughout the album, confronting the temporal nature of everything. Over stately music (similar to “Last Day in June” from the first Finn Brothers album), Finn celebrates and mourns the fact that we are all here for such a fairly short time. On one hand, “people breath[e] into life/all that’s good in us” but “they come and the go/like the blink of an eye.” This can’t be helped, but he wants to help: “Doesn't stop me thinking out loud/I could’ve done something.” (which has to be referencing Hester). This song is wall-to-wall brilliant lyrics, perhaps my favorite being: “Better take all the love you got/in a single hand.” A great end to the album.

And, I wish, a beginning of another run of great albums from Crowded House. While this is their least accessible record, it is their most emotional. It just takes time for things to penetrate below the surface.

The Effigies
Reside

(Criminal I.Q.)

criminaliq.com

The Chicago punk scene developed much differently than those on the coasts. Things seem to come a bit more slowly to the Midwest. There may have been some Chitown bands who were punking things up as soon as they heard the Ramones and The Sex Pistols, but those bands apparently did so in basements and garages. It was a few years later that punk emerged in the Windy City. The classic Chicago punk scene was made for a town famous for its slaughterhouses and factories, with music that was furious and righteous.

Along with Naked Raygun and Big Black, The Effigies fought the angry fight. Led by future prosecutor John Kezdy, their early recordings mixed some metallic edge into music that stood up with the likes of Raygun, Mission Of Burma, and Wipers. Kezdy harangued about oppression and corruption and fighting back, while the rhythm section of Paul Zamost (bass) and Steve Economou (drums) rumbled away and Earl Letecq played the guitar hero. The band evolved and eventually went in more of a true post-punk direction (quite well, I think) and eventually evaporated, but for the a few reunion shows over the years.

Maybe they would have reformed years ago, but they needed a steady guitarist. Veteran Robert McNaughton has stepped up into that role and after nearly two years of gigging, The Effigies are back, and have reverted back to their early sound. Rarely has the band sounded more authoritative, as if the music they played was an aural representation of the fury of Kezdy’s thoughts and observations.

The band harkens back to classics like “We’re Da Machine” on “The Guvner”. It’s a stomping mid-tempo song that affords Kezdy a platform to decry corruption and cronyism, which is a way of life in Illinois, where three of the last five governors have been convicted of felonies in federal court (and the current governor is under investigation). The song has a certain military edge, as Kezdy calls out “Republicratic swine...banging shoulders at the trough,” while he proclaims “this is war/we’ve had enough.” Amen, John.

This vim and vigor is welcome on an album which opens with a track called “The Full Weight of Failure”. McNaughton’s opening guitar line is bright and welcoming, but the drums and bass take this into tenser territory, the bass supple and slinky. Kezdy looks at the shards of past hopes and dreams, and just can’t shake not getting things done. This is punk brooding at its best, and shows that its not just a young man’s game – the older you get, it's easier to get really pissed off at yourself.

Many of the songs feature a mix of guitar roar and angular leads that are the essence of The Effigies. I can’t dole out enough praise to McNaughton for fitting right in and helping the band sound the way they are supposed to sound. On tracks like “The Rake of Autumn Light” and “Night Train”, among others, he sets the mood and provides the crucial textures. Most of these songs aren’t about complex chord changes (okay, maybe none of them are), they are about tone and feeling, and with the rhythm section chugging along, the guitar plays such a big role, and that role is fulfilled here.

On a couple of songs, the band shows they still have some strong melodies in them. “Haz-Mat” is the usual hard punk rock in the verses, but the chorus has a delicate lead guitar part riding over Economou’s steady back beat and Kezdy’s typically urgent vocals. “Scarecrow” is even better. This song actually reminds me a bit more of vintage Mission Of Burma or Naked Raygun than prior Effigies material. The chorus on this song is as catchy as anything they have ever done, and perhaps even catchier than anything they have ever done. There’s even an excellent instrumental break, where McNaughton plays a great solo.

Much like the recent Burma and Radio Birdman discs of the past few years, this isn’t so much a reunion record as a resumption. The Effigies still have it, they still sound like one of America’s most menacing punk bands, and they have the songs to back it up. If you missed them the first time around, you’re lucky to get a second chance.

Maximo Park
Our Earthly Pleasures

(Warp)

warprecords.com

The second album from Maximo Park doesn’t really expand their artistic reach so much as polish it up. This isn’t such a bad thing, as the band’s strengths are still intact -- sharp, angular new wave-type tunes, crisply played, and the distinctive vocals of Paul Smith singing articulate, witty lyrics. The band’s sound makes the album immediately appealing, although it’s not as memorable as their debut. This is because there simply aren’t any songs on par with knock outs like “The Coast Is Changing” and, especially, the sublime “Apply Some Pressure”. Nevertheless, there aren’t too many bands out there now who are as consistent in knocking out breezy and taut three minute or so confections like this band.

Working with veteran producer Gil Norton, the band polishes its sound without sacrificing the crucial mix of pop savvy with a little post-punk nerviness. The band sets things up with slightly (very slightly) jagged rhythms, and then finds a way to incorporate their considerable melodic acumen. Often, guitarist Duncan Lloyd plays in lockstep with drummer Tom English, while Archis Tiku negotiates his bass parts in between the two. On most songs, they find a way to interlock their parts, while Lukas Woolner is free to add color however he likes on his keyboards.

Maximo Park certainly travels in the same musical circles as The Rakes, The Futureheads, Franz Ferdinand and The Long Blondes, but they have an identifiable sound. Part of it is the interplay of the band. Most of it is due to Paul Smith. He’s a font of young adult wisdom, dryly commenting on the modern battle of the sexes, knowing, observant, and either trying fruitlessly or already defeated.

Smith shows his flair for the dramatic on two back-to-back tracks early on in the disc. Russian Literature is sung from the point of view a pretentious man who is jilted by his library liason. She doesn’t show and suddenly the world comes crashing down, and everything goes to shit, leading to observations like “familiarity still ends in contempt” and “our earthly pleasures/distract us against our will.” Meanwhile, the music swells and builds and crashes to reflect the rising temperature of the overheated protagonist.

“Karaoke Plays” is in the mold of the superb “The Coast Is Changing” from the debut album. It starts out modulated and controlled, with a nice warm pulse. The bridge then builds up the intensity a bit, and Lloyd nails a hooky guitar figure, finally culminating in a big chorus. Yet again, Smith is stood up, as he is abandoned by a lover. All he can do is miss her: “Every night we’ve got so much to say/I want to hear all the things you did today.”

I don=t want to make it sound like Maximo Park is all work and no play. On A Fortnight=s Time, they work up a good deal of urgency, a la late 70s Joe Jackson or Elvis Costello & the Attractions, and then get downright playful on the swooping melody of the chorus, asking “don’t you know your times tables by now.” Smith then breaks himself down, hitting the nail on the head when he sings “when it comes to girls/I’m truly theoretical.”

These aren’t songs about awkward teenage crushes. The guys that Smith is representing are young adults who are simply overwhelmed by responsibility. Trying to muck out a career and an identity at 20-something is daunting when you couldn’t come close to doing that in school. Any confidence or bravado in his singing is merely because his wit is all he has to live on.

This feeling that life is going too fast is captured well on “Our Velocity”. Smith is an angst filled worker who is pretty convinced that nothing is right with the world. The song has a slight electronic edge (a la early Devo) with a more explosive rock sound in the vein of Wire or Magazine. Smith is full of philosophical musings, all which are a by-product of his isolation, at one point all ego (“I buy books I never read/and then I tell you more about me”) at another just crushed (“Love is a lie, which means I’ve been lied to/love is a lie, which means I’ve been lying too”). This may be the best song on the whole platter.

I suppose it would have been nice if the band showed some more signs of musical progress. Then again, they were pretty advanced to begin with. The twists and turns of the music echo the frustrations and occasional joys Smith sings about. This is the rare clever band that has a lot of feeling.

Jason Falkner
I'm OK, You're OK

(Noise McCartney)

quruli.net/nmr

So pop wunderkind Jason Falkner, the intelligent power pop fans’ (both female, and as Gregg Easterbrook would say, non-traditional males) heartthrob of choice, has finally gotten an album out, after spending time working with Air, Beck, and Paul McCartney. Not a bad life. Yet this album, Falkner’s third album of original material, is, so far, only available in Japan. What’s up with that?

Is it worth expensive import prices? Is anything nowadays? There are enough cuts of basic Falkner that a true fan will have to get it. But this isn’t just a repeat of the prior two albums, as he explores some new territory.

The thing that strikes me the most is that a lot of these songs are emotionally resonant in a way that I hadn’t experienced from Falkner’s other work. The slow songs here are the key to liking the album. To Falkner’s credit, when these songs stretch out beyond three or four minutes, they don’t feel padded or directionless. Instead, he is letting melodies breathe and take root. When they do, which is often, it can be quite affecting.

This is especially true of the closing track, I Don’t Mind. This is a classic 70s styled piano pop ballad. The track starts out with Falkner’s voice and the piano in a stark setting. He sings, rather unconvincingly, that he’s okay. Cue a swelling melody and swirling instrumentation, as Jason sings that “I haven’t smiled since yesterday/it’s alright, I’m O.K.” This is a tender song about putting on a brave face when things have gone bad after a break up. Of course, the middle eight is heartwrenching, as he sings “it’s not me/it’s not you/maybe there are just some things that we just can’t live up to.” This song really nails the loneliness and resignation that can go with a relationship falling apart. It’s one of Falkner’s best.

Falkner mines similar musical (and melodic) territory on “Anondah”. This is another piano ballad, and hits on another bad relationship. “Why should we change/when change is so painful?” he sings, and that’s enough to let you know that things won’t change. I had never thought of Falkner as a singer-songwriter type (although he is, of course, a singer and a songwriter), but he shows that he is very effective with this direct emotionally charged material. Not that a guy who can whip up superlative pop confections has to have depth, as, in my opinion, pop is its own reward. But the added dimension is the biggest sign of artistic growth.

Whereas a foray into glam rock is merely a sign of artistic mirth. On “The Knew”, Falkner gets the syncopated drums going and throws in some giddy rhymes. I can’t suss out all that I’m hearing, but this song seems to actually have some political intrigue going on. We’re not talking Ted Leo or The Clash here – it’s more vague drama in the vein of The Hollies’ “Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress”. Whatever, the beat gets going, the guitars are glossy and riffy, and the song is loads of fun.

Falkner moves towards the Air and Beck side of the spectrum on the cool “Hurricane”. Falkner sings over an electronic drumbeat, with synth-y sounds in the background, carrying the melody with his voice, meshing well with the insistent mid-tempo rhythm. His voice is so up front in the mix, and he coasts along, the nuances and phrasing sounding great. Eventually, the song gets to a hooky chorus that again is rooted in rhythm. I’d like to hear more of this modern new wave electronic stuff from Falkner.

Fans of prior Falkner albums will find some songs that sound like they were inadvertently left off those releases. “Contact” is yet another steady building song that rewards the listener with a well-structured chorus. If you want a lovely, happy pop song, look no further than “Stephanie Tells Me”. It’s the kind of song you can take home to mother. And “NYC” is one of those power pop guitar rock numbers that Falkner seems to toss off effortlessly, every part of the song flowing perfectly into the other, and one lyric I love: “She’s had eyes that fascinate/representing the lower Haight.” Maybe it’s just me.

It is frustrating that, as I write this, this album is not being released domestically…yet. This album shows that Falkner is growing artistically, while retaining the primary qualities that have given him such a devoted audience. If he’s relegated to cult status, I hope that he can make it easier for his cult to buy his new album.

Dolly Varden
The Panic Bell

(Undertow)

undertowmusic.com

When I picked up this disc at the record release show, Dolly Varden frontman Steve Dawson told me that this was a poppier effort. In comparison to its more soul oriented predecessor, Forgiven Now, I suppose it is. Yet, as always, there is no easy genre label that can adequately encapsulate the Dolly Varden sound. And that’s one of the reasons they are so great.

One thing about Dawson -- he makes everything sound so effortless. In fact, I’m sure if I checked my review of his excellent solo album, I used the word effortless there too. This is probably another way of saying that the blend of influences that forms the foundation of the band’s sound is so well developed, that everything comes off organically. It certainly helps that the musicianship is so stellar, particularly the versatile guitar work of Mark Balletto, whose colorful leads and pedal steel work are always spot on.

So what do we have here? Some songs that are kind of Beatleesque, a couple rootsy rockers, two Diane Christiansen numbers which, as always, remind me primarily of Roseanne Cash, and songs that spotlight Dawson’s honeyed R & B inflected voice, while hitting other traditional musical forms.

Let’s start with one of those songs. “Sad Panda Clown’s Lament”, in addition to being a great title, is a nifty art-pop tune that really sounds like no one else out there right now. The song is a soulful lament (yep, it’s a great title) wrapped in psychedelic and country musical elements. The arrangement alone is fascinating. The first instrumental motif involves distant backing vocals, a reverberating electric piano and subtle electric guitar embellishments. This sets up a chorus that has almost a gospel music quality to it, particularly in the first chorus where the band drops out and they sing the indelible chorus lines a capella: “Only a fool would run/only a fool would run to me.” In the second chorus, the intensity and tempo picks up, yet the song then goes back to the initial musical theme. Inventive yet really accessible stuff.

Even when a song seems straightforward, it veers somewhere else. “Everything” is a happy as hell love song...on the surface. The brassy big chorus certainly fits the bill -- Dawson radiates joy (though it sounds like Christiansen is singing back up through a bullhorn in the distant background -- odd effect). But the pithy verses are somewhat paranoid. It’s a big contrast. The song then slows down for the soothing harmony vocal coda: “At every given moment I am right right where I belong.” One straightforward song that doesn't deviate is “You Never Will”, a winning jangle rocker that is to the point -- things are going so good between us, baby, that there’s no need to analyze, we should stay together.

The band moves to moodier territory on the superb opener, “Complete Resistance”. This song has a bit of a John Lennon/latter day Beatles vibe (or T-Bone Burnett in his more melodic rock phase). The song is foreboding and the poetic, impressionistic lyrics go well with the darker tones. Yet the release in the song comes from the chorus, where Dawson’s hits the high end of his range, sounding so pure in the face of the ugliness the song conjures up.

Other highlights include “The Truth Is Told”, a quiet showcase for Christiansen, who sounds pure, vulnerable, and defiant all at the same time. This song sounds a bit like a slowed down ‘70s Laurel Canyon special -- maybe Linda Ronstadt for the 21st Century? The band stretches out a bit on “Triumph Mine, Idaho”, a bluesy number that sounds like an outtake from Forgiven Now. Indeed, the structure of the song, both rhythmically and melodically is very familiar – it’s quintessential Dolly Varden. The band extends the coda of the song, letting the band pick up some steam and rock out a little bit.

This album is just more great stuff, and as good a place as any to venture into Dolly Varden’s music. You really should start somewhere.

Ian Hunter
Shrunken Heads

(Yep Roc)

yeproc.com

Paul McCartney
Memory Almost Full

(Hear)

Hearmusic.com

Two performers, one a lower case ‘l’ legend, the other one of the most famous songwriters ever. Both are still out there making records. Hunter has flown under the radar for years, and some of his albums haven’t even been released in the United States. Meanwhile, McCartney has gone through a bit of a renaissance, primed by some successful tours where he has played lengthy sets hitting on all parts of his career.

Musically, neither Hunter nor McCartney break any new ground at all on their new discs. For Hunter, this means the usual rock moves that have served him well since his Mott The Hoople days. This doesn’t make his album sound dated -- the line between dated and timeless is as thin as the line between clever and stupid. Likewise, Macca evokes some of his older songs at points on his new disc.

What makes the difference between these two albums is in the inspiration. Hunter still has a lot to say, while McCartney just isn’t all that focused. To put it another way, Paulie is close to tapped out as a lyricist, and often reduces the words to bare outlines. He actually would benefit from some outside help -- not necessarily to pen the words, but to draw more out of him. And in saying that, I’m not one of those folks who thinks that Macca has always been a bit of a simp -- he has penned tons of great lyrics, from “Yesterday” to “Penny Lane” to “Juniors Farm” to “Put it There” (a gem from Flowers In The Dirt).

Only once does McCartney really hit hard, on the moving “The End of the End”. This is R & B rooted piano balladry, leavened with a really strong melody. This is cut from the same cloth as “Maybe I’m Amazed” and “Hey Jude”. But instead of going to high emotional heights, McCartney is contemplative, simply stating that when he is dead and gone, he just wants people to swap stories and celebrate him. The spare musical backing (beyond the piano, producer David Kahne adds some strings) and McCartney’s slightly weathered voice front-and-center in the mix, make for an affecting track that manages not to be maudlin.

However, McCartney can’t quite achieve such resonance on another soulful number, “Gratitude”. The song does for actual gratitude what “Freedom” did for actual freedom. This song, an appreciation to his soon to be ex-wife Heather Mills, is not so much straightforward as it is banal. It’s great that Paul can seemingly be so forgiving, but this is so superficial, it’s annoying.

I think one thing that makes it hard for McCartney to consistently hit deeply with his music is that his life is about being Paul McCartney. Yes, he has his vegetarian thing and the anti-land mine campaign, but he really doesn’t look outward much. Hunter is much more successful because he has concerns beyond his mortality and legacy.

One of those songs is the title cut, which evokes the epic ballads that he used to sing with Mott The Hoople. Hunter’s tortured Dylan-esque vocals still are masterful on this cut, where he chronicles urban decay, apathetic leaders and the lack of upward mobility: where you’re born is the luck of the draw. Yet this song is fairly general, and carried a bit more by the performance. That’s not the case with the upbeat acoustic strum of “Soul of America”, where Hunter gives his expatriate perspective on what’s gone wrong in the U.S. of A since 9/11. The music evinces hope, while Hunter eviscerates “them good old boys in their three piece suits/feathering their nests, while they’re rallying the troops.” You tell ‘em, Ian.

When things get more personal, Hunter still has a sense of humor. The gentle back porch boogie of “I Am What I Hated When I Was Young” is a brilliant piece of self-awareness. Hunter chronicles all of the stupid things he doesn’t do anymore, which leads to a realization as to his younger self: “I don’t holler, I don’t hoot/I don’t act like a nincompoop/I don’t hide when the police come/I am what I hated when I was young.” McCartney is looking back frequently too, but with a different take on things. “Vintage Clothes” mixes a typical McCartney melody with interesting percussion and rhythm effects, as he notes that we hold onto our youth by dressing younger -- or having trends come back around to our era. Musically, this is one of the more creative tracks on the album, but the observation just doesn’t sustain the song. This song segues into the funky acoustic “That Was Me”, where he lists off a bunch of his past accomplishments, which only makes me want to listen to his past accomplishments.

That is really a big difference between these two records -- most of the McCartney record, as well crafted as it is, can’t seem to find a way to get back to the big hooks and indelible melodies. In this context, as slight as the first single, “Dance Tonight”, is, it at least really drives the hook home, and isn’t that what Paul McCartney should be doing? Meanwhile, Hunter may not be breaking new ground, but there’s just a bit more going on here, since he is much more driven, and not just playing around. Compare “Gratitude”, where McCartney really pushes himself vocally, yet doesn’t seem fully engaged, with the closing track on Hunter’s disc, “Read ‘em ‘n’ Weep”, a love lost song in the vein of classics like The Easybeats’ “Falling Off the Edge of the World”, where Hunter pours his heart out.
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Bottom line -- the new McCartney album is nice, and maybe you’ll pull it out from time to time. Hunter’s new disc is probably just a notch below his best work (and I didn’t even get to fun rockers like “How’s Your House” and “Brainwashed”) and shouldn’t collect too much dust on the shelf.

The Pillbugs
Buzz For Aldrin

(Proverus)

proverus.com

The Pillbugs are a psych-pop band that generally gives you plenty of both sides of that hyphenated phrase, mixing crazy kaleidoscopic music with classic melodies and hooks. I suppose if you’re not into retro you might not find much here, but The Pillbugs aren’t mere imitators. They are keeping alive a great musical form, and Id put this two disc set up with many of the reissues getting praised in any of the last few issues of Ugly Things.

That being said, I want to make two observations up front about this collection. First, on this album, the ‘bugs delve a bit more into the proggier aspect of psychedelic music, with some stretched out instrumental sections and more complex songwriting. In so doing, they never veer off into the land of self-indulgence. As always, their instincts are perfect. Second, while I’ve always found Jeff Lynne, especially his late-‘60s and early ‘70s work (spanning The Move and early Electric Light Orchestra) to be a major influence on the band, they really top themselves here. I could probably make a 10-song CD-R compilation of tracks from this album and market it on Ebay as the great lost ELO album, and I’m sure I’d fool people. I can’t think of a much higher compliment to give these guys.

Right now, as I’m typing, I’m listening to one of those Lynne-escent tracks, “Sidecar”. The only thing that I suppose gives it away is the actual lack of an orchestra. The song starts out with a guitar part (which is later used as the underpinning of “In the End (Youre Moving On)”) that has heft and importance, joined then by some slightly bluesy licks which lead into the verse. Here, we get a sound reminiscent of Lynne’s R & B excursions like “Showdown”, building to an intense chorus, and the bridge out of the chorus a lovely melodic interlude. The bridge melts perfectly into the sunshiney middle eight. This song contrasts the pretty and the intent, while the central lyrical conceit (sidecars never run away) is a bit silly -- and I dig it all the more for that.

The Pillbugs reach levels of sophistication that other psych-pop acts don’t usually achieve, while never losing their sense of fun. So when they knock off an epic track, such as the title cut, they indulge themselves without being pretentious. “Buzz for Aldrin” begins with an Eastern sounding psychedelic motif, and the song is effectively a series of movements. It’s not just verse-chorus-verse, as there are two different extended instrumental breaks that are essential to the song. These breaks don’t overstay their welcome, adding to the power of the song. Every time they do come back with a verse or chorus, it’s just that much more powerful. And the guitar work on both breaks is great. The first interlude mixes more Middle Eastern guitar with some piano, the second is simply the band rocking out, sending the song into overdrive, though it winds into more places in the last couple of minutes. Great stuff. And the other epic track on this collection, “Brilliant But Late Advice”, is also terrific and works in the same lyrical theme about the sky, sea, and summer rain. This song actually works in some musical motifs that seem folk and classical inspired, while later throwing in some Beach Boys styled ba ba ba harmony vocals and prog rock keyboard ornamentation.

Still, it all gets down to the band’s ability to craft killer pop hooks. And they have those in spades. “She’s In Style” comes in all bouncy and sweet, like The Turtles, but the chorus is pure E.L.O. -- swirling and wonderful. Instantly memorable stuff. Meanwhile, “Milkman’s Wife” is classic British pop (circa 1967) style whimsy, as the band takes a basic arrangement and decorates it throughout the track. “The Last Confederate Soldier” is a good piano based song, a bit bluesy, with a very playful feel. And “Make Like Arthur Lee” is a good demonstration of how to let a song build -- and that sky, sea, summer rain lyric comes into play yet again.

Since I am lost without a lyric sheet, I’m not sure if the recurring lyrical and musical themes are evidence of a true concept album. But if so (and I’m reviewing off an advance copy) then there are even more levels to enjoy. Regardless, The Pillbugs are one of the premiere modern psych-pop bands, so full of ideas (and with the ability to execute them) that a double album isn’t excessive – it’s really the only realistic way to allow them their due.

The Bees (a/k/a Band Of Bees)
Octopus

(Astralwerks)

astralwerks.com

On their first album, The Bees sounded liked they smoked a lot of weed, and the haze was palpable on a bunch of shambling songs with reggae and funk overtones. It was very early ‘70s in its orientation. On the second Bees album, the band moved a bit further back in time, playing a mix of great psych-pop and ‘60s R & B fueled rock and roll. On their latest effort, the band somewhat splits the difference, staying a bit more true to the last album. However, this is bit more groove based like the debut. The downside is that there aren’t as many killer hooks as on the wonderful Free The Bees. However, that’s about the only bad thing I can say about this very listenable album, which finds the band again sounding like a blast from the past, unearthing what sounds like lost gems.

Indeed, many of these songs sound like a what if experiment – such as what if reggae had been a crucial part of late ‘60s psychedelic music? Sometimes the rhythm section is in full skanking mode, other times, it’s just the bass lines. It’s a subtle twist on familiar sounds and is just one of the reasons that The Bees' music is not merely retro worship. They are actually finding new ways to gussy up the old sounds.

“Left Foot Stepdown” sounds like a song that would have influenced The Clash’s reggae aspirations, had it been released 40 years ago. The song has so many great touches, from the warm Hammond organ (yes, that’s redundant), to the smart driving horn arrangements, to the rasta vibe that morphs into more of a standard R & B pop vibe for the chorus. There are even dub effects in the instrumental break, which spotlights the tight rhythm work of Michael Clevett and Paul Butler, before introducing a jaunty piano line that is contrasted by a reverbed guitar. The Specials (during their “Ghost Town” days) are another good reference point for this song.

Another song also shows a Specials influence. “Stand” sounds like its right out of the Terry Hall/Jerry Dammers playbook, musically. The band mixes mournful choral vocals, steeped in folkie psychedelia with lots of reggae tricks. Lead vocalist Butler even sings with a bit of a patois in spots, with the type of urgency Hall displayed on those Two-Tone sides roughly three decades ago.

“I got a job back in Texas/cutting the grass before breakfast/cleaning the ?/and I’m saving up for a Lexus.” Okay, I can’t make out all of the lyrics, but these lines illustrate two things: 1) these guys aren’t making Bob Dylan sweat, and, 2) they are having fun. These lines open “Got to Let Go”, a song that manages to sound dramatic, due to the strong horn lines and accompanying organ part, yet it has a moving rhythm and overall jazzy funkiness that comes off as playful.

Fans of the last album will gravitate towards the front porch atmosphere of “Love in the Harbour”. This song has a bit of a country-rock bounce, but the washed out vocals add a garage rock gloss to the rustic underpinnings. It’s like the city meeting the country on somewhat equal terms.

The songwriting flags just a bit towards the end of the proceedings. Closing track “End of the Street” is simply silly, using sound effects to finish off lines in what sounds like the poor mans Bonzo Dog Band. That being said, it still forces a bit of a smile. It’s preceded by “Hot One”, organ fueled psych-pop that allows Butler to practically scat sing during the instrumental break (which follows the police siren and the screeching brakes, naturally).

At ten cuts, this album verges on skimpy, but there are enough highlights to avoid this accusation. While not quite up to the standards of the last album, this record shows The Bees have really mastered the styles that have inspired them. The result is a very enjoyable album.

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