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Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Paul Weller_(2005) "As It Now" [8.0/10]

Paul Weller
Album: "As It Now"
Release Date: 10 October 2005
Label: V2 / Yep Rock Records
Rev Value: [8.0/10]
Genre: Rock
Styles: Pop/Rock, British Trad Rock, Adult Alternative Pop/ Rock, Singer/ Songwriter
BUY IT

TRACKLIST

1 Blink and You'll Miss It (3:23)
2 Paper Smile (3:05)
3 Come On/Let's Go (3:16)
4 Here's the Good News (2:57)
5 Start of Forever (4:55)
6 Pan (2:26)
7 All on a Misty Morning (4:30)
8 From the Floor Boards Up (2:27)
9 I Wanna Make It Alright (3:38)
10 Savages (2:58)
11 Fly Little Bird (3:44)
12 Roll Along Summer (3:39)
13 Bring Back the Funk, Pts. 1 & 2 (7:15)
14 Pebble and the Boy


review by:Uncut
reviewer: GAVIN MARTIN
Album Value: (4/5)

Paul Weller's status as the most resilient survivor from Britpunk's class of ‘76 was challenged by his last album of original songs, 2002's inaptly named Illumination. One corking broadside ("A Bullet For Everyone") excepted, Illumination’s lacklustre performances and half-formed songs suggested fatigue, an artistic rut in his Dadrock furrow.

Whether Weller's fire had really gone out or he'd merely succumbed to midlife doldrums, a refresher was urgently required. Last year’s covers album, Studio 150, was no world-beater, but the break from routine evidently yielded dividends. As Is Now is the result: a work of rejuvenating power, on which Weller and his long-serving band attain a new sense of purpose and focus. Sharper songwriting is key. Trailed by two lean and seething singles, "From The Floorboards Up" and "Come On/Let's Go", As Is Now has much to live up to. And though the double whammy of those singles is the album's highpoint, their clarity and directness are also its hallmark. (...)

Full Review


review by:NME
reviewer:Paul McNamee
Album Value: (7/10)

The Modfather returns to show the kids a thing or two

Every couple of years, Paul Weller looks like he's finished. 'Studio 150', last year's covers farrago, was more miss than hit and was loved only by the Modfather's fierce devotees.

But every time he looks like he's about to fall off the edge, he returns with a record that reminds you why he is much more than just a well-dressed man with great hair.

'As Is Now' is Weller plugged in again. He's heard the sound of The Libs and Epworth's stable, realised they are all in his thrall, and kicked back to show the.(...)

Full Review


review by: Artist Direct
reviewer: Stephe Thomas
Album Value: (4/5)

If 2002's Illumination was a warm, laid-back record, Paul Weller's 2005 sequel, As Is Now -- a likeable but unremarkable covers album, Studio 150, appeared in the interim -- is its flip side, a lean, hard-hitting soulful rock & roll album. Not that Weller is returning to the sound of the Jam: he's still with the same band that he's been with since Wild Wood, anchored by drummer Steve White and featuring Ocean Colour Scene members guitarist Steve Cradock and bassist Damon Minghella, and he's working the same musical territory, grounded in Traffic, Humble Pie, '60s soul, and guitar pop. There may be absolutely no surprises here -- even the change of pace "The Start of Forever" is reminiscent of many of his gentler folky tunes, echoing Illumination's mellow vibe -- but for as familiar as As Is Now is, it never sounds lazy; it's a tighter, better record than most of his late-'90s albums. The closest antecedent to As Is Now in Weller's solo catalog is Heavy Soul..(...)

Full Review



review by: MusicOHM
reviewer: John Murphy
Album Value: (-/-)

When Paul Weller released what's generally thought to be his best album, Wild Wood, there was a track there called Has My Fire Really Gone Out?. Intended as a riposte to his critics who had long written him off as an irrelevancy, it was the highlight of a blistering return to form that saw Weller once again widely respected.

Now, over a decade after Wild Wood, Weller finds himself again the subject of carping from snide critics. Although albums such as Heavy Soul had their moments, there was something that suggested Weller was coasting somewhat. Last year's covers album, Studio 150, was a well-meaning experiment that fell flat on its face and people began to wonder whether Weller's fire really has gone out for good this time.

So As Is Now sees the man back with a point to prove - and long term fans of Weller will know this is when he's at his best. It's an album that sees him refocused, reinvigorated and projecting a real sense of purpose.

As Is Now sees Weller revisiting various points of his varied career and updating them. So there's the brittle guitar pop of Come On/Let's Go which recalls The Jam, the pastoral, laid back vibe of Wild Wood in All On A Misty Morning and even the ghost of the Style Council is resurrected in Bring Back The Funk. (...)

Full Review


review by: FasterAndLouder
reviewer: Paul Busch
Album Value: (-/-)

From the beginning you are listening to classic rock and roll, recorded by the formidable Paul Weller. This release, if you want the rating up front, is a must have and will definitley be in the Top 20 of releases for 2005. You want to fly, fly, like the little bird Paul sings about later in the disc. This is an album, recorded as an album should be. No massive over produced tracks here. Simply this is an album. An album!!! No filler, no tracks tossed on to make this a longer release. It flows like a river with some of the smoothest playing you’ve heard this year.

The songs, all written by Weller, show a maturity and depth that makes you think you may have heard these tunes before, but you haven’t. He has blended so many sounds from throughout his career and made almost a masterpiece. There are moments, for instance, in Roll Along Summer, that just transcend time and space. You feel yourself being taken into the studio, or the lounge room, or the back corridors of the songwriters mind.

The tracks laid down by the four main players on the record are so good you could probably just listen to them without any further additions. But add some George Martin-ish productions touches and some strings, on the ballad The Pebble and the Boy and you find yourself immersed in soul. And let’s not forget the fabulous use of horns here and there! (...)

Full Rev


review by: Entertainment.ie
reviewer: Lydia (SugarBuzz Correspondent South Wales, UK)
Album Value: (3/4)

Back in the mid-90s, the pastoral Wild Wood was the album that rescued Paul Weller's floundering solo career. In an attempt to recapture those past glories, it seems that the Modfather has gone back to nature again. As Is Now finds him in an unusually mellow mood, ruminating on the joys of country life and even paying a solemn tribute to the god of Pan. The prevailingly folky mood is varied by some dreamy jazz and the odd piece of taut guitar-rock, just to remind you that he hasn't forgotten his roots. If you think Weller has become a boring old fart in recent years, then this won't change your opinion. But those with an open mind will find much to enjoy in these warm, gentle vignettes, and will feel glad that the once angry young man has found at least a measure of contentedness.

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Wednesday, November 09, 2005

The Chalets_(2005) "Check In" [8.0/10]

The Chalets
Album: "Check In"
Release Date: October 2005
Label: Setanta
Rev Value: [8.0/10]
Genre: Rock
Styles: Alternative Pop/Rock, Indie Rock
Check in



review by:Playlouder
reviewer: James Harrison
Album Value: (3.5/5)

If one particular version of their origins is to be believed, The Chalets started out as a drunken pledge made between five festival-goers. Surprisingly for an idea forged in hazy days, the concept of The Chalets had the clarity and appeal to survive the morning after. Although their penchant for outlandish onstage costumes and their two-girl, two-boy up front formation might raise eyebrows amongst an all-too-often asexual indie scene, it won't stop the youth from having rude thoughts about their nurse outfits.

Perversions aside, the music is uncomplicated and brisk (women are rarely to be seen near prog records, like a musical burka), politely grabbing the attention with its enthusiasm and charm. The xylophone makes a fleeting appearance, as well as healthy splashes of kitsch synths, whippet-like guitars and some deceptively nifty drumming.(...)

Full Rev


review by:Downled In Sound
reviewer: Mike Diver
Album Value: (8/10)

They've rather, and slightly sadly so, dug their own (critical) hole some months prior to the release of this, The Chalets' delayed debut. The likelihood of a single review making it five lines without making some remark or other about kooky, quasi-kinky on-stage attire and co-ordinated hand-on-hip dance moves is, frankly, slim. See? Point proved. The overriding aesthetic appeal of the band – the twin girl and three boy line up, each dressed to impress and to appeal to primal instincts (women may want to mother the men, men may want to take the girls back to mother) – makes analysing this all the more difficult: without the visual accompaniment, will Check In choke on its own cutesy, saccharine pop?

Well, no, actually: strip away all preconceptions and Check In reveals its charms. Yes, certain songs bring straight to mind those sultry poses and jerkily pop-rockin' indie-boys, but qualities are abundant from the outset, said opening line being the former paragraph-referencing, "You're making us wanna unbuckle our trousers". The only instantaneous gripe is that Check In really deserved an earlier release; so many of these songs – 'No Style', 'Gogo Don't Go', 'Beach Blanket' – are preoccupied with summer abandonment, with seaside liaisons and spontaneous trips away. As October skies turn grey, said efforts make for nostalgic listening..(...)

Full Review


review by: The Big List
reviewer: ?
Album Value: (-/-)

Somewhere on a radar between the Buggles, the B-52’s and Franz Ferdinand (well, if they were to be joined by a few cool chicks), you’ll surely find Dublin five-piece The Chalets, ready to burst from a massively retro bubble of slick pop-art and fiendish kitschness.
No strangers to the live circuit, particularly in Belfast, The Chalets have certainly amassed quite a cult following based solely on their sharp and kinetically energetic stage performances and in their debut album ‘Check-In’, the quintet have certainly managed to cement their reputation further by producing a bumper, fourteen track LP, which is most definitely worth checking out.
With their infusion of eighties inspired electro-pop, dynamic, expertly executed male/female vocal exchanges and slick harmonies to rival even the Futureheads, The Chalets certainly have a uniquely fresh and distinctly fun sound, with every track on their album, strong and memorable. Right from the plucky chords of the opening song ‘Theme from the Chalets’, (a humourous tale of male/female misunderstanding), ‘Check-In’ reels you into a web of bittersweet quirkiness and unadulterated fun.(...)

Full Review



review by: Artrocker
reviewer: Brad Barrett
Album Value: (-/-)

"Several of these little ditties don't belong to a band originating from Ireland. They should be basking in the beaming sun of UV ray raked beaches..."

Writing this on a dismal, dirty grey Autumn England evening is bound to taint my feelings with a little cynicism. The likelihood of bitter asides increase as do the odds of me feigning neutrality about The Chalets blend of summer pop.

Several of these little ditties don't belong to a band originating from Ireland. They should be basking in the beaming sun of UV ray raked beaches. Palm trees should line the limousine drive while they cruise a Chevy convertible into a fuschia sunset.

As it is the rather kooky, group harmony drenched melodic-drama, though tinged with Americana, resonates globally not just nationally. Through reveberating synths and lashing guitars, not forgetting call and answer vocal sharing, the band reimagine themes of dispirited love and snarling kiss-offs, as 60s girl-group anthems cattle-prodded with buzzsaw modernisms. Jagged two chord riffs? Check. Occasional seething interludes Depeche Mode would be proud of, as in "Gogo Don't Go"? Check. Nasty, imbalanced psycho-sex-groove pop like "Love Punch"? Err....check! (...)

Full Review


review by: Popmatters
reviewer: Andrew Lynch
Album Value: (4/5)

With their kitschy outfits, cheesy grins and day-glo accessories, The Chalets look more like a cartoon than a band. Thankfully, the hotly-anticipated debut album from the Dublin five-piece shows that there's plenty of substance behind the garish image. With three boys and two girls on board there's bound to be some sexual tension in the air, and the best tracks here are raucous tales of romantic conquests told from several different points of view. Musically it's a particular smart brand of glam-rock, with beefy guitars and screechy electronica that manage the difficult feat of engaging both the feet and the brain. Profound they ain't, but in a local scene that's groaning under the weight of drab singer-songwriters, The Chalets represent a very welcome splash of colour.

Original Link


review by: SugarBuzz Magazine
reviewer: Lydia (SugarBuzz Correspondent South Wales, UK)
Album Value: (-/-)

A bit of a modern Mamas and Papas is the ideal way to open this introduction to The Chalets. With their male and female vocals harmonising and mixing over each other it is an understandable comparison though the heavy guitars and bass line cut through to add a definite noughties edge to what is definitely a fun rock, though pop tinged album.

It has that bouncy edge that is reminiscent of the Bloc Party style of guitar work but this album is much more fitting for an earlier era.

It has a touch of glam rock with a sunny surfy Beach Boys 60s feel. From the outset with “Theme From Chalets” you know you’re in for a fun time listening to this album.

At times it can feel like the songs melt into each other but then you’ll get a little bit of a guitar riff that just marks it out as different. “Red High Heels” is a particular track that makes you take notice again as it has that sound which you can’t quite put your finger on as it feels similar to Le Tigre but at the same time Sahara Hotnights.

“Sexy Mistake” follows this same idea but then as the album rounds up you are faced with “Love Punch”, a darker almost rock synth track which to my mind is one of the stand out tracks of the album. Not easy to categorise, my best recommendation is to give it a listen and see what you think.

Full Review

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Rogue Wave_(2005) "Descended Like Vultures" [6.5/10]

RogueWaveRogue Wave
Album: "Descended Like Vultures"
Release Date:10/25/2005
Label: Sub Pop
Rock-Rev Value: [6.5/10]
Genre: Rock
Styles: Indie Rock, Indie Pop, Lo-Fi
Buy It

Tracklist:

1 Bird on a Wire (3:40)
2 Publish My Love (3:43)
3 Salesman at the Day of the Parade (2:36)
4 Catform (3:12)
5 Love's Lost Guarantee (4:44)
6 10:1 (3:20)
7 California (4:06)
8 Are on My Side (4:19)
9 Medicine Ball (1:54)
10 You (5:46)
11 Temporary (2:45)

Album Credits

Jeff Kleinsmith Design
Patrick Spurgeon Bass, Percussion, Accordion, Piano, Autoharp, Cymbals, Drums, Glockenspiel, Guitar (Electric), Bowed Saw, Casio, Radio, Mixing, Bass (Upright), Bass Pedals, Organ (Pump), Engineer, Xylophone, Group Member, Vocals, Tambourine, Organ (Hammond), Drums (Bass), Chimes
Emily Lazar Mastering
Gram Lebron Percussion, Vocals, Group Member, Wurlitzer, Fender Rhodes, Vibraphone, Drums, Guitar (Electric)
Bill Racine Trumpet, Mixing, Drum Programming, Engineer, Producer, Organ (Hammond)
Zach Rogue Synthesizer, Guitar (Acoustic), Casio, Piano Strings, Wurlitzer, Mixing, Organ (Pump), Engineer, Producer, Vocals, Organ (Hammond), Guitar (Electric), Bass, Piano, Percussion, Group Member
Evan Farrell Bass, Piano, Percussion, ?, Lap Steel Guitar, Group Member, Wurlitzer, Vocals
Aerielle Levy Cello
Gene Park Viola
John Goodmanson Mixing




review by:Allmusic
reviewer: Tim Sendra
Album Value: (3.5/5)

Rogue Wave's second album is at its heart no great departure from their first. Like Out of the Shadow, Descended Like Vultures is indie rock through and through. There isn't a moment that doesn't feel influenced, borrowed, or previously released by Death Cab, Elliott Smith, Yo La Tengo, Lou Barlow, and so on. Luckily there also isn't a moment that's not tuneful, exciting, or ingratiating; it's second-hand but runs just like new. Indeed, sweet vocal harmonies, melodies that hook you instantly, and arrangements that envelop you in their gooey goodness are still the backbone of the Rogue Wave sound. And again there is a nice mix of rockers ("10:1," "Publish My Love"), mellow and intimate acoustic ballads ("California," "Temporary"), and moody pop tunes ("Catform," "Are You on My Side"). This time out Zach Rogue is joined by a full band, though it's mainly Pat Spurgeon who plays jack of all by providing able backing on drums, guitars, keys, bass, and autoharp. This reliance on other people doesn't tamper with the winning formula much, though the production does. Unlike the first album, which had a homey, lo-fi energy, this one feels shiny and professional like it was cut by real musicians doing it for real in a real studio. The guitars are thick and layered, the drums upfront and loud, the lead vocals very lush and reverbed. It gives the album's big ballads like the opening "Bird on a Wire" or the ebbing-and-flowing "You" a naturally epic feel that other bands have to try way too hard to achieve. Unfortunately, on the rest of the record it adds an extra layer of studio realness that takes away most of the intimate charm the group had so much of previously. With Descended Like Vultures, Rogue Wave have become just another indie rock band, one that has delivered a strong album without a weak song on it, but a real band just the same. Hopefully, the people who fell in love with the first album will stick with Rogue Wave and see through the shine to the substance, because it is there and the album is good, just in a different way.

Original Link


review by:Pitchfork
reviewer: Brian Howe, October 26, 2005
Album Value: (7.8/10)

As a member of the Desoto Reds, Zach Rogue was working a crushing 70 hours/week at a web development company, frustrated, and desperate for change. Then a round of layoffs saved Rogue like a last-minute call from the governor and he beat a retreat to New York to see what he could accomplish on his own. Clutching a sheaf of the delicately odd pop songs he'd written but had no outlet for in Desoto Reds, he holed up in the studio with his friend Bill Racine and together the two began spontaneously cranking out the tracks that would become Out of the Shadow, an album that would earn Rogue Wave a Sub Pop deal-- and an endless parade of Shins comparisons. The spirit of adventure and freedom that accompanied Rogue's life-change was apparent in the record, which featured wispy, spectral tunes, somewhere between Simon & Garfunkel and Yo La Tengo, embroidered with intricate details.

Rogue assembled a band to take the songs on the road, and this quartet-- which includes Gram LeBron, Pat Spurgeon, and Evan Farrell-- is collectively responsible for Rogue Wave's sophomore outing, Descended Like Vultures. As such, it's reasonable to expect a record very different from the debut, which was penned entirely by Rogue. The first single from the new album, "10:1", confirms a sea change: Where the atmospheric debut laced cloudy melodies with quiet traces of heat lightning, "10:1" is a crashing thunderbolt. The thin, melodic contour lines that primarily structured Out of the Shadow become barely discernible underpinnings on this track, subsumed in raucously cartwheeling synths and returning producer Bill Racine's bracing guitar manipulation. The only vestige of the old Rogue Wave is Rogue's voice.

Has the band that relied on off-kilter charm forsaken their chilly moderation for heat-seeking rock? You know, sort-of-ish: "10:1" is a bit of a red herring. The main difference between the two albums has more to do with volume than style. The production now has more depth, and you're more likely to hear subtle (or not-so-subtle, in the case of "10:1") filters on the vocals. Out of the Shadow seemed to emanate from very far away, but Descended Like Vultures is more visceral and immediate, although the loud tracks are largely tempered and controlled. Once the disappointment that it's not a Leonard Cohen cover fades, the album's opening track, "Bird on a Wire", is a charming introduction to the louder side of Rogue Wave: Crisp drum rolls and strident bleats buffet the melody toward an outsized, lighter-waving chorus. The driving mid-tempo guitars that open "Publish My Love" are contrasted with an acoustic arpeggio that would've been the song's stopping point on the first album. The excellent "Love's Lost Guarantee" profits from the same contrast, revealing a surprising but totally sensible Death Cab for Cutie affinity as it alternates darkly twinkling passages with romantically crashing choruses. (...)

Full Review


review by:PopMatters
reviewer: Justin Cober-Lake, 1 November 2005
Album Value: [6/10]

Rogue Wave's debut album Out of the Shadow was full of memorable songs, all of which you immediately forget. It remains the type of album that you say you love but forget to listen to until someone, probably a guy like Zach Braff, mentions that he likes it, and then you play it and enjoy it for a few days and put it on the shelf and forget about it, unless another someone asks you if you're a fan of Rogue Wave and then you say you are. None of which means that album isn't any good. It's above serviceable -- it's just that it's that kind of indie pop that works great for one-offs (unless you're on Flying Nun and it magically becomes fantastic).

Led by another Zach (Rogue, of course), but with more influence from the band that formed around last year's tour and stuck around, Rogue Wave sets out to make a disc that you'll not only like, but remember. By and large, they succeed on Descended Like Vultures, and they do it by getting bigger without losing any of their intimate charm.

It won't get the attention of single "10:1" or album-opener "Bird on a Wire", but "Publish My Love" epitomizes what the band does. The track opens with electric guitars just a little too noisy to jangle, which drop out for a smooth, quick verse. Rogue's voice stays steady as the band fills back in for the chorus, and the guitars return to full force immediately afterward. The shifting sounds add more texture (or at least a rockier texture) than you might expect. The structure repeats enough to catch in your head (and the chorus is just several announcements of "You can never publish my love"), but the transitions, as well as the fluctuating lyrical parts, keep it interesting and lead logically to the song's closing climax.

Rogue Wave uses this sort of techniques to fill their album with quality songs. "Catform" alternates mood more than texture, remaining dark throughout, and "Love's Lost Guarantee" brightens the sonics just slightly, but adds some overdriven guitar to keep an edge. These kinds of small touches make the poppier hooks of the album more engaging, and stickier than the tracks on Out of the Shadow.

Songs like "Love's Lost Guarantee" also show that Rogue Wave has a harder side. "Bird on a Wire" hints at this side of the group. It begins with a sunny little riff, but adds vocal effects on the last syllable of each of the verse's lines, drawing the phrase out and creating easily-released tension. The noises and effects continue as Rogue sings a fine melody. The production teeters on overbearing, but doesn't tip over, allowing the track to fill with sound but not to overflow..(...)

Full Rev


review by: Prefixmag
reviewer: John MacDonald
Album Value: (3.5/5)

The temptation is to start name-dropping. We could start talking about how Zach Rogue’s vocals split the difference between Neutral Milk Hotel’s Jeff Mangum and the Shins’ James Mercer, how the guitars twinkle and spark like Radiohead’s glory days, how Rogue’s tunes have the plasticine sheen of Death Cab for Cutie and the same weepy sincerity, and how naming your band after your last name is kinda lame. But I’ve heard that would be lazy journalism — and, whatever, these guys deserve a bit more from us anyway.


The band’s second full-length from Sup Pop, Descended Like Vultures, follows an impressive debut — and success story. In short, Rogue gets dismissed from his dot-com job (poor guy), splits for New York, records an album alone, flies home to Oakland, changes his last name, finds a band and some friends, finishes the album, releases it alone, and gets picked up by a big independent label — all within a few years. If Out of the Shadow, his debut, is the result of years spent staring at cubicle walls, we have some reason to celebrate the dot-com flame-out.


But whereas Rogue began his corporate exodus alone, Descended Like Vultures finds him and his able compatriots integrated and working as a band. Despite their twists and turns (sonic and otherwise), the songs here are fully accomplished — unafraid of comparisons and sure of their intent. “Publish My Love,” possibly the best of the bunch, explodes in a mess of shoegaze before settling into a choruses that stand upright to love’s low-pressure winds; “10:1” pummels a two-note Hammond B3 melody to danceable oblivion. Even when things hush up, Rogue Wave keeps things interesting. “California” has Rogue’s elegant tenor laughing at the land of milk and honey as he sings “screw California and the friends that are never there” over warm acoustic guitar.


The sanitized production can be a bit of a stumbling block, and Rogue occasionally gets ahead of himself with his high-spire vocals, but Descended Like Vultures is by and large not the sophomore slump such and such and so and so were expecting. With few exceptions, bands that play like bands are more interesting than songwriters fronting freelancers. Thankfully, Rogue Wave is beginning to sound like the former.

Original Link


review by: Stylus
reviewer: Evan McGarvey, 2005-10-25
Album Value: (C)

isk isn’t the best game for honing your sense of geography. It splits the continental United States into two regions: Eastern and Western, though I’d argue the major indie-rock labels do pretty much the same thing.

When you get an album from Matador (East) or Touch and Go (Midwest) or Sub Pop (West) you tend to presume some things before the disk even touches the laser of a player. Rogue Wave and their second album Descended Like Vultures are as delightfully left-y as anything in Sup Pop’s catalogue and sprinkled with moments of Laurel Canyon production and expectedly pastoral acoustics.

The music on this album, much like this year’s anticipatory EP 10:1, is worn-in California pop, juiced with paisley guitars who sizzle more than thrash. There’s plenty of love too; the straight-ahead, personal pop boulders like “Bird On A Wire” are crisp and earnest.

Lead singer/guitarist Zach Rogue uses a quietly stained Elliot Smith-bleat and matches it up with terse acoustic guitars. This product is dusted with the salt of the Pacific, cold winters in San Francisco, and a refreshingly fresh pallet of soft/loud ennui. How else could they string together chants of “Are you on / My side?” or legitimately title a song “California,” and play it straight?

But even someone who shies away from the Yo La Orange County left-coast rock will find plenty to admire here. The songs are soundly emotive without being hungry and “universal.” The carnival organ and galloping drums on “10:1” don’t announce themselves with bombast. “Publish My Love” (rubbish title notwithstanding) subtly pushes Rogue’s spoken-word-metric wail under big, evenly produced guitar fuzz. It’s the most aggressive song on an acoustic, enduringly enduring set of small-ball rock songs.

Descended Like Vultures snuggles down between Wolf Parade’s Apologies To The Queen Mary and Modest Mouse’s 2004 release, Good News For People Who Like Bad News as a competent, half-slapped together, half-methodic slice of evolved indie-rock. Not as rural and weathered as the former, not as pushy a grab-bag as the latter (though all three albums do have mystifying, undergraduate titles).(...)

Full Rev


review by: Drownedinsound
reviewer: Lianne Steinberg, 31/10/2005
Album Value: (4/5)

Forgive me, for I have gone about my daily business without Rogue Wave in my life. It’s daft really as Sub Pop have had them in their bosom since 2003 when mainman Josh Rogue delivered debut Out Of The Shadow. But somehow they’ve managed to sit just under the radar. But with Death Cab For Cutie busy claiming space in American teen soaps and Guided By Voices finally clocking out of existence, there’s been an aching gap in the space-time continuum of bittersweet, foreboding indie rock.

However, the intimacy of Descended Like Vultures is instant, so much so that you can picture singer/guitarist Zach Rogue sat on his kitchen floor, with his morning coffee cooling as he messes around on a 4-track.

Opener Bird On A Wire has a gracefully crowing guitar that runs in at the final line of each verse, adding a sense of madness to a simply delicate song. The arrival of Publish My Love kicks in the killer rushes, lifting melodies up to the heavens and falling back into gentle acoustic breaks. Drums boom around like gaseous planets and guitars pick out the simplest celestial melodies. Part confessional, part observational, all of it has a wistful west-coast vibe. Are You On My Side spookily works its way around guitars and washes of harmonies whilst asking a lover for a fresh start. Medicine Ball is reminiscent of Life’s Rich Pageant-era REM, rolling through the dusky backwaters, echoing strange myths. Rogue’s voice has the ability to shift from a countryish Neil Young falsetto to the gritty tenderness of Elliot Smith.

Descended Like Vultures has none of the menace that the title suggests, but instead there’s plenty of distress, trepidation and steady reflection. It’s full of the minute anxieties of life that keep you awake in the early hours, but set to some of the most life-affirming sounds you’ll have heard for a long time

Original Link

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Lightning Bolt_(2005) "Hypermagic Mountain" [7.5/10]

Lightning Bolt
Album: "Hypermagic Mountain"
Release Date:10/18/2005
Label:Load Records
Rock-Rev Value: [7.5/10]
Genre: Rock
Styles: Experimental Rock, Post-Rock/ Experimental
Buy It

Tracklist:

1 2 Morro Morro Land (3:43)
2 Captain Caveman (3:19)
3 Birdy (3:06)
4 Riffwraiths (3:03)
5 Mega Ghost (6:01)
6 Magic Mountain (4:55)
7 Dead Cowboy (7:58)
8 Bizarro Zarro Land (4:47)
9 Mohawk Windmill (9:38)
10 Bizarro Bike (5:18)
11 Infinity Farm (2:46)
12 For the Obsessed (2:10)



review by:Allmusic
reviewer: Johnny Loftus
Album Value: (4.5/5)

Lightning Bolt's 2003 album Wonderful Rainbow just kept getting bigger and bigger, like a 16-ton amplifier falling out of the noon sky. Its bass tone squashed round heads into wrecked ellipses, and the drums chattered away as if on a chain drive. The album was the opposite of Excedrin, a tension headache in ten movements. Lightning Bolt have done it again with 2005's Hypermagic Mountain. It's hard to say this is accessible; besides, if you did say that, no one would hear it anyway. But bassist Brian Gibson and drummer/default vocalist Brian Chippendal build an addictive structure into the manic pulse of "Captain Caveman," and "Riffwraiths" -- musicians' biggest fear next to unreliable drummers -- sounds like a song's break extended to three explosive minutes. And while Chippendale's vocals on "Birdy" are a distracting non-factor, its rhythmic throb is more relentless than a carbon-arc strobe light with no off switch. None of this is melodic in the traditional sense; Wonderful Rainbow wasn't, either. But Lightning Bolt's music beckons from a more elemental place, as a ferocious distillation of shattered punk fury, dance music release, and the purposely weird. Closer "For the Obsessed" ends abruptly in mid-freak-out, giving the silence that follows its own electricity, and in "Bizarro Zarro Land" Gibson and Chippendale are heavy metal soloists fighting to the death. What makes Hypermagic even more heroic beyond its immediate rhythmic grip is the musicianship, the furious dedication to a hyper, jagged groove. Longer tracks like "Dead Cowboy" and "Mohawk Windmill" build into giant fractals of epic noise, with weird little filigrees stolen from old Yes albums bursting forth from roaring bass guitar and splattering drum rolls. At its most chaotic, Hypermagic Mountain could tear open a wormhole into Comets on Fire's Blue Cathedral. It's clear that Lightning Bolt reach stasis at their noisiest, when they're caught deep in the zone.

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review by:Pitchfork
reviewer: Brandon Stosuy, October 19, 2005
Album Value: (7.3/10)

For years, noise didn't make headlines-- or even show up in mainstream magazines in the first place. Yet, recently, the aesthetic has enjoyed a more jovial reception by the press and from indie rock fans-- thanks in large part to Wolf Eyes, Black Dice, and Lightning Bolt. This critical feedback has allowed noise bands to go on increasingly lengthier tours with larger audiences at each stop, and those higher-profile peers have fostered a larger, less incestuous noise community. For Lightning Bolt's Brian Gibson and Brian Chippendale, fortuitous cultural circumstances and their improvisational acumen have rendered them the toast of the current noise-rock crop-- all the while they've continued to tweak their post-hardcore/Harry Pussy formula.

Hypermagic Mountain is Lightning Bolt's fourth, most well-oiled album: song-by-song it chugs into rockier Van Halen, Fucking Champs, or Orthrelm territory. Somewhere in the middle a lack of variety creates a dull patch, but even the more homogenized tracks slip by on the upped energy as well as subtle, virtuostic additions to the violence. The set was again captured by ex-Small Factory jangle-popper Dave Auchenbach, who mostly harnesses the band live to two-track (with some live mixing) and DAT. Because of the approach, Hypermagic Mountain breathes like a battering ram: The drums are gargantuan and, conversely, the vocals fold nicely into the buzz.

The sound's crowded-- the Boschian cover art is a solid visual analogue-- but Lightning Bolt make room for all their key ingredients: brief space excursions, lessons in dynamics, monster riffs, semi-humorous politicos, sugar-dosed energy. Everything you'd expect to find is here and in amped form-- festering bass (with that slippery balloon sound) and machete-slinging, crazy-climber drums. The components establish LB as more rock, less noise-- though they've always treaded closer to that realm than to Merzbow or Whitehouse.

The Brians' break the gate with "2 Morro Morro Land", upchucking a noodle before opting for the overdrive of a jaunty lick. The heavier, somehow portentous "Captain Caveman" connects for a second punch with Chippendale shouting somewhere in the midst of the commotion that "this is the anthem." Well, actually, it's one of many.

The next movement's spacier, focusing on ghosts: "Riffwraiths" and "Mega Ghost" include more entropic loops and echoed vocals-- especially on "Mega", which begins ambiently with dead-soul vocal echo. Fittingly, the first few minutes of zoomed drums and bass on "Magic Mountain" sound like an uphill climb. Like the best of immediate-minded rockers, LB kindly deliver. So no, none of that avant-noise tease: Despite still working on the outer edge of rock dynamics, when LB build to something, you can be assured it'll explode.. (...)

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review by:Stylus
reviewer: Roque Strew
Album Value: [A-]

The myth of Lightning Bolt hangs on its devastating, shamanistic live act. Concertgoers encircle the band, in ritual awe, like a crowded halo of asteroids orbiting a binary star: a bassist butchering his rig like a pink-slipped surgeon, and a drummer grinding his ragtag kit into cinders, while belting yawp after yawp through a tattered pillowcase luchador mask into his “throat mike,” a jury-rigged phone receiver run through a pre-amp. The experience, religious to every ticket-holder, outruns language.

The problem of Lightning Bolt, by extension, is recapturing this unhinged tumult in the studio, readied for your iPod’s earbuds and your mom’s car stereo, without losing the myth in translation. Luckily, with each new release, the band has tapered the gap between the live act and the studio artifact. Culling 57 minutes of Dionysian fury from three weeks—and two tracks—of Apollonian sweat, Lightning Bolt rushes forward on Hypermagic Mountain, their fourth full-length, in another stride toward the perfection of their prog-noise esthetic.

Rewind to 2003, year eight of the Rhode Island dialectic—Brian Chippendale’s jackhammer drumming braided into Brian Gibson’s whitewater bass—when Wonderful Rainbow cemented the Ruins and Boredoms comparisons, when the band rocketed into the higher echelons of the indie hierarchy, when noise began to slowly invade the once signal-heavy hipster cosmology. The more mature Hypermagic Mountain manages to one-up its junior, coupling an across-the-board tightness with better mixing. Where the vocals worked before as accomplices in abstraction, they’re now turned up, and clearer, thanks to the band’s new setup. The drums and bass, in the egalitarian polish of Dave Auchenbach’s knob-twiddling, are now equally prominent in the mix. The production’s richer than ever, with the once-submarine low end reigning alongside the mids and highs.

Gibson’s bass lines gallop from the get-go, chased by Chippendale’s percussion stampede, promising on the first track, “2 Morro Morro Land,” that Hypermagic Mountain will loom monolithically, maybe taller than Wonderful Rainbow. The opener’s raucous verve is overshadowed by the threatening storm of the next track, “Captain Caveman.” Here Chippendale, on cue, takes center stage, almost crooning over the stop-start convulsions, proggy fits of ricochet chord progressions, cribbed St. Anger riffs, and Gatling bass-drum pummeling.(...)

Full Rev


review by: Tinymixtapes
reviewer: willcoma
Album Value: (5/5)

What's with the lukewarm response to Psychic Paramount? Because the two best tracks on there mop the floor, in terms of sheer intensity, with anything Lightning Bolt has ever done. Mind you, I love them both. And Psychic Paramount is more the prog side of implosive guitar/drums mayhem while LB is the scrappy punk rock side. I guess I just can't believe my ears with either band, and wonder what fickle mandate made one more attention-worthy than the other. Perhaps I'm just getting ahead of myself, as Psychic Paramount hasn't put together a full-length yet. Whatever the case, fans of mind-blowingly loud, careening rock ecstasy should get anything and everything available by Psychic Paramount. For those of you who feel you only need one of this sort of thing, you're dead wrong.

Now, on to this new Lightning Bolt. So far, reviewers are lamenting that Hypermagic Mountain shows stagnancy. That makes me laugh. Not really. Actually, that makes me feel confused. When I play this behemoth of a record, all of my relativistic critical bullshit goes bye-bye. All concerns over structure, consistency, variety, depth and even melody are lost to the blood-curdling passion coming out of the speakers. Unlike Oxes, Hella, or some such wankery, this wankery is insistently, urgently infectious. It holds fast to the ground, obliterating everything that stands in its way. I know, I know. That sounds like some inane soundbite cliché. This time it's true. Every goddamned thing on this record is boring into the earth's core, straight as a goddamned arrow. Another cliché. Yeah well, what this record does so well is clichéd. It's cheap and tawdry and godawful and mesmerizingly so. Logic and pasty critique pings off of the Hypermagic Mountain and shatters into a million pathetic molecular shitflecks.

The word "hypermagic" means Merlin in a full-bodied epileptic fit. But he could be dancing! He could also be dancing. Give him some more Ritalin..(...)

Full Review


review by: shakingthrough
reviewer: Laurence Station
Album Value: (4.4/5)

Best way to enjoy music by Lightning Bolt: Crank and surrender. Hypermagic Mountain’s second track, “Captain Caveman,” all atomized vocal distortion and no-Ritalin-allowed rhythmic riffage, announces everything you need to know about the latest earsplitting noisefest from the high-revving bass and drum duo of Brian Gibson and Brian Chippendal. For those who thought 2003’s Wonderful Rainbow seemed extreme in its pulverizing level of intensity, Hypermagic Mountain reduces it to the equivalent of a by-the-numbers Bread rehearsal. Hypermagic Mountain’s sum effect eclipses its redline-obliterating parts, but special dispensations must be given to the leaking madness of “Megaghost,” with its yelping, wounded-animal sound effects and furiously tight interplay between guitar and drums. And it would be criminal to overlook the amazing proficiency exhibited on "Bizarro Zarro Land," which nimbly flirts with control and chaos, dexterously catapulting from one treacherous musical peak to next without once losing its footing. Hypermagic Mountain will be a tidal shock of relentless jackhammer threats to the non-discriminating music fan. For the initiated, there’s true primal joy to be heard in this mammoth creation. You’ve just got to be willing to shed those tightly guarded notions and listen.

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review by: Playlouder
reviewer: John Doran
Album Value: (4.5/5)

What blessed bastardry is this? It's bloody brilliant, that's what it is.

For the uninitiated (and surely there aren't that many left around these parts who haven't at least heard of this word-of-mouth sensation) Lightning Bolt are a duo of epic proportions. They came out of the Rhode Island, Providence performance art scene; Brian Chippendale played drums, Brian Gibson played bass; and when they got together, it was Mordor. After misfiring as a three piece, they went on to record 'Ride The Skies' and 'Wonderful Rainbow' as a duo but really became a cult name to drop because of their, literally, riotous live performances. Eschewing anything so sensible as playing on stage, they would set their instruments up on the floor instead. And with Chippendale yelling inaudible lyrics into a microphone stuffed into his mouth and his head crammed into a mask made from a pillow case as he bashed away at his kit and Gibson usually wearing a pixie hat, they would be the eye of calm in a psychedelic metal hurricane as bodies heaved and thrashed in a circle around them. The trouble was that it was always such an astounding experience to see them live that many would come away claiming that, as such, they just made noise and it'd be pointless to actually, you know, buy them on record.

The truth of the matter is that Lightning Bolt, although it is often hidden under sheets of feedback, hectic production and just sheer velocity, are actually a very hook heavy band. And here this is still the case. Gibson's bass is treated through layers and layers of FX, allowing him to carve out shimmering top end hooks as he thrashes out a groaning bottom end simultaneously. The over driven warmth of 'Dead Cowboy' is a flotilla of busy but simple hooks atop a sea of grinding sludge. And 'Bizarroland' starts off almost like Steve Vai before doing a hand break turn straight into becoming some sort of unholy alliance between High On Fire and Ornette Coleman.
(...)

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