(Kumpelstiltskin)

www.spottiswoode.com

This, my friends, may just be the most original and exciting release of the year. For those of you who look for excitement, thrills galore, mystery, experimentation, and someone to throw out the rock and roll rule book, than look no further. Spottiswoode and His Enemies are here to seduce you and do it with style. There is no other band like this. No other bands can touch Spottiswoode. A regal triumph from beginning to end, this disc is a mad fun house of brilliant melodies, superior songwriting, and a wonderfully twisted romp through the seamier sides of your beloved “pop” genre.

Oh, but it would be too delightful if this disc shut the mouths of every Jellyfish, XTC, and - dare I say it - Beatles fan in existence. Hell, I am one of those fans myself! Ah, but this has been a year of the indie popster trying his best to glorify himself and his fans through grasping back into the quickly-emptying barrel of Beatles, Big Star, XTC, and Brian Wilson influence. You won’t find that here. Not a drop of Alex Chilton. Not a dash of Lennon and McCartney. Nary a drop of Pet Sounds or Skylarking. Not even an echo. Spottiswoode is his own man.

Ah, but there are a few other influences you might like to pick up. But even they are just whispers of a greater, grander picture. You might hear a little ‘70s kink of David Bowie running through the tasty whips of “She’s Not In Love, She’s In Pain”, or “Much Too Old”. You might catch a bit of Nash Kato or Leonard Cohen in “Nice Girl” and “Hell Is Somewhere”. But let’s just drop the “what Spottiswoode maybe possibly but doesn’t really at all sounds like” references here and get to the point. You find me someone else who is opening their albums with such comedic noir as “Rattle The Bars”, that finds our hero Spottiswoode as the central bride to be in a wedding taking place at Leavenworth. Or how about the devil-may-care flair for arcane oldies that pumps rich blood through tht eveins of “What’s The Point”. Take that, Squirrel Nut Zippers. Keep away from this smoldering pile of dark, demented class that no one else could even begin to assess.

Where do they come from? Where have they been? These questions are too cryptic to answer. Spottiswoode himself hails from London, whereas his “Enemies” (Tim Vaill on drums, John E. Young on bass, Riley McMahaon on guitar, Candace DeBartolo on sax, flute, calrinet, percussion, and backing vocals, and Kevin Cordt on trumpet, flute, baritone horn, and backing vocals) come from here and there. You know, places like New York and …New York? Hmmm. Well, I digress. You should know that Spottiswoode has also made a short film entitled The Gentleman. You see, he’s an artist’s artist, a man of many talents.

The New Yorker hailed him as a “genius”, and well I can only fall right in line with that assessment. After all, who can argue with such lovely bits as “Enfant Terrible” and “Love Isn’t Nice”? There are seventeen tracks here. Count ‘em! That’s an incredible amount to remain vital and interesting, exciting and noteworthy! I promise you, you have never heard anything like this group before and will not hear anything like them for possibly the rest of your lifetime. All someone had to do was mention “Captian Beefheart” in the press release. Ah, but Spottiswoode is not even like that genius of rock! He is his own Einstein. His music, a mad meld of everything worth hearing.

Just take my word for it. Spottiswoode and His Enemies is THE album you need to own this year. It brings me to tears, it fills me with joy, it makes me feel evil and angelic and it makes me jealous that I didn’t have the necessary talent to do it all myself! So thank you, Rhonda Kelley, for bringing this exemplary group to my attention. But most of all, thank you Spottiswoode and your illustrious Enemies for creating such a wild style of musical merriment that at least 95% of all the other should be judged by. Oh, that’s saying a lot isn’t it? Yes it is. Now go out and buy this one right now or forever feel the woeful loss. It’s not your standard pop stash. But then, Spottiswoode is not your standard anything at all. Amen to that.

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The Boxcars
Crossing

(Palace Flophouse)

Roots rock. It’s a genre that seems almost 100% blacklisted from any big time rock radio stations. Sure, there’s Train and that whole Drops of Jupiter album, but come on. They’re about as interesting as the gum you find on the bottom of your shoe. Sure, it sticks well, but gets really annoying in the end. Besides, there’s nothing really rootsy about their brand of music other than the fact that the lead singer has a twang in his voice, and that hardly counts for much these days since Nashville’s turned all Hollywood pop on us.

So what’s a band like Philadelphia’s Boxcars supposed to do about all this? I’d say just lay back and play the music. Their latest release Crossing is the kind of album that should be getting a fair shake all over this great nation, but probably won’t because there’s no immediate “hit single” to jump out and grab you, and perhaps the guys in the band aren’t very slick looking. Oh well. Let the big cheeses miss out yet again on something that’s sitting right in front of their collective faces and contains ten times the amount of talent that groups like Train try to sound like they have.

The band features Matt McGrath on lead guitars and vocals, Paul Edelman on bass and vocals, Dan Roberts on rhythm guitars and vocals, Brian Samson on drums, and Amber deLaurentis on organ, piano and tambourine. Dig it. It’s a well-stocked band that plays well-stocked songs. The first three opening cuts here, “Gone To Fall”, “Half Parted”, and “She’s Losing Ground” can often remind one of Dylan when he was recording his “Wild Mercury Sound” with the likes of the Band and Al Kooper. In fact, it’s deLaurentis’ organ playing that pipes a whole lot of soulfulness into the Boxcar’s sound. And the lyrics have a nice, strong flavor about them as well. When McGrath sings “Everybody knows when it’s gone to fall/Apples fall around your feet/Seeds in the street mark the crossing” on “Gone To Fall”, the listener is met with a host of vivid images that remain striking after the umpteenth play.

However, sometimes the songs just don’t really go anywhere. Both “Bootstraps” and “Roll Me” tend to get a bit listless while they amble along in their twang and strum. On the latter tune, McGrath’s voice seemingly gives out on him in a couple of spots, which doesn’t help matters any. Luckily, things get back on track with the terrific “Before You Leave.” I just wish that sometimes the guitars weren’t mixed so loud. Producer Edan Cohen does a pretty fine job through most of these songs, but every now and then the vocals take a back seat to the guitars which get a bit too loud on “All Torn Apart”.

However on “Strong Waters”, the Boxcars do their best imitation of the countrified Rolling Stones, and it works like magic. Terrific riffs, gruff vocals, and a strong sense of rhythm and beat allow the band to swing their melodies with a mighty crunch. Crossing then cools its engines with the quieter “N. Broad” and “Police Song” before turning out its most countrified moment in the closing “The Ballad of Buffalo Creek.”

For the most part, the Boxcars and Crossing is an enjoyable spin through the twangier side of rock. While a couple of the songs could be trimmed or tweaked, and the mix could be changed in places, these are minor qualms. If nothing else, the Boxcars prove they’re capable of throwing down both soulful heartbreak tales and tough rock that could hold its own to any more commercialized version of their sound on the radio. Perhaps one of these days they’ll get their chance. Until then, enjoy the group’s sound whenever you like on Crossing.

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