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2008-02-25

by Don Simpson

Capsule Reviews: The Mountain Goats and more

Summary

Keep your eyes on self-titled heretics and rhinos

Article

The Felice Brothers -- S/T

Contrary to most Americana and folk revisionists riding this newly formed wave, The Felice Brothers opt for realism over experimentation. There ain’t no genre-bending here. In fact, there is nothing new here at all. This is pure recycling of a musical era long gone by. The souls of Dylan and the Band, Woody Guthrie, Townes Van Zandt and (early) Bruce Springsteen reverberate within each note, expound from the drunken slur of every nasally vocal. They don’t just sound like their acetate mentors, The Felice Brothers compose instant classics that resonate like their ancestors’ most vital masterpieces. “Greatest Show On Earth,” “Frankie’s Gun,” “Take This Bread,” “Saint Stephen’s End” and “Love Me Tenderly” are undoubtedly undiscovered Dylan gems that The Felice Brothers must have stolen straight from Dylan’s long lost satchel. Whether they are true maestros of Americana’s new millennium or downright dirty thieves and scavengers, The Felice Brothers’ warm and fuzzy -- like a buzz from downing a fifth of Jack -- self-titled debut long-player is destined to be a faithful drinking buddy to many whiskey-fueled recluses across this nation.

The Grand Archives -- S/T

The Grand Archives shed some daylight and cheerfulness upon Mat Brooke’s (former Band of Horses guitarist and Carissa’s Wierd vocalist/guitarist) once shadowy and depressing musical past. The lushly orchestrated chamber-pop is blissfully saturated with endless layers of vocal harmonies. It is shamefully impossible not to compare this stunning debut LP to another Sub Pop debut from ten years ago -- Pernice Brothers’ Overcome by Happiness. Where The Grand Archives differ is that they are not afraid to take cues from less hip bands such as the Bee Gees. Then there is “Breezy No Breezy," a confounding instrumental algorithm of country-western tinged dub that strains to be accepted within the track listing. The two best tracks are “Jack Briel” (written in homage to the Canadian folk hero who was hung for treason in 1885) and “The Crime Window” (which broke from the sunny yet serious tone of this album with its rocking and rollicking playfulness).

Helio Sequence -- Keep Your Eyes Ahead

“Lately” kicks off Keep Your Eyes Ahead with a U2-esque (circa Joshua Tree) grandeur and confidence (the guitars sound like the Edge’s riffs, the drums are reminiscent of Larry Mullen Jr.’s beats and the vocals are eerily similar to Bono). It’s enough to make Helio Sequence fans wonder whether the band has abandoned the playful electronic-tinged indie-rock they would typically expect for the bombastic stadium rock sect. Knowing that Brandon Summers had to relearn to sing after severely damaging his vocal chords, anything is possible -- maybe the new lyrical style prompted a change in music composition and style as well? The next couple tracks (“Can’t Say No” and “The Captive Mind”) -- lending themselves more toward the electronic nuances of Helio Sequence’s past – might calm any doubting Thomas in their audience. Then, about halfway through the album “Shed Your Love” is ultimately primed to befuddle their fan base. In a way, this is like spoiling a movie -- for which I am infinitely sorry (you can stop reading here, and at least you won’t know what the twist is). It is a shocking turn of events and it is difficult to ignore, while also a hint for what is to come. During the time Summers was nursing his devastated throat, he polished off a shit-ton of books. He commenced his literary onslaught with Bob Dylan’s Chronicles. Maybe it shouldn’t be as much a surprise that “Shed Your Love” sounds like a Dylan and Lanois collaboration. The twist promptly ceases, as Keep Your Eyes Ahead leaps back into a more traditional Helio Sequence stride for a few more tracks. But the Dylan and Americana influences are regurgitated once again for the closing two tracks (“Broken Afternoon” and “No Regrets”). The title of Helio Sequence’s fourth full-length proves to be a helpful bit of advice for any unsuspecting fans: there are many unsuspected twists and turns -- take heed and keep your eyes ahead.

Sunny Levine -- Love Rhino

Man, I would hate to be the lady that dissed Sunny Levine. It’s bad enough to get one of those break-up mix tapes compiled by the bitter broken heart you chewed up and spit out, but to have an entire debut album written and recorded in dedication to you just because you broke things off with the guy -- that’s taking things to a whole other level. Obviously, Levine’s thick-skinned (“love rhino”) approach toward love didn’t save him from this one. The thing is, Levine is not just another guy either and Love Rhino isn’t some half-assed album sculpted solely as a kiss-off to an ex-lover. Music pulses incessantly through Levine’s veins as he shares rich genealogy with some of the best producers in the biz. His grandfather is Quincy Jones, his father is Stewart Levine (producer of Simply Red, Joe Cocker, BB King, Dr. John, Minnie Ripperton, and Jamie Cullum) and his uncle is QD3 ( producer of Tupac Shakur and Ice Cube). Sunny Levine (like father, uncle and grandfather) is also a producer (The Happy Mondays, Mickey Avalon, Pete Yorn, and Hugh Masekela), and he worked on the lavishly produced Love Rhino between paid producing gigs. Lyrically, Love Rhino is only suitable for the jaded post-break-up sect; but the bitter taste of the enraged lyrics cannot take away from Levine’s mad compositional skills. For those of us who are not so disenfranchised with romance, maybe Levine will release an instrumental version -- the music is so damn blissful and sensual (probably with intended irony) it deserves second chance. C’mon sugar.

The Mountain Goats -- Heretic Pride

Ever since the inception of The Mountain Goats in 1991, John Darnielle has been a rocker trapped in a folkie’s body. Darnielle incessantly pounded out songs on his acoustic guitar as if he was playing a Les Paul through a monstrous wall of Marshall amps. As the leader the lo fi revolution of the early 90s, to call Darnielle’s sheer onslaught of literary, history, geography and philosophy-referencing songs prolific would be a colossal understatement. A quick peak at his 17-year career reveals twelve full-length CDs, six cassette-only releases, six EPs and 10”s, fourteen 7” singles -- and that doesn’t take into consideration Darnielle’s innumerable contributions to compilations and plethora of worthwhile side projects. Most of The Mountain Goats’ pre-Y2K releases were on the smallest of small indie labels that only the most avid indie-rock fans knew about: Shrimper, Ajax, Emperor Jones, Sing Eunuchs, Sonic Enemy, Car in Car, Oska, and Walt. Releases were limited, yet The Mountain Goats’ obsessively dedicated fan base somehow found a way to collect them all (even before MP3s and file sharing existed). The turn of the millennium brought forth many changes for The Mountain Goats. 2002 saw their debut release -- Tallahassee -- on the significantly larger and more prominent record label 4AD. Tallahassee also marked the first album by the “band” version of The Mountain Goats (featuring past collaborators Franklin Bruno and Peter Hughes). Their newest -- Heretic Pride -- is the fifth release by The Mountain Goats on 4AD. Though I once represented the most rabidly cultish of The Mountain Goats’ fan base in the 1990s; Danielle and company lost my interest around the time they signed with 4AD. Maybe it was more fun to handwrite letters to Dennis Callaci at Shrimper asking him for the latest release by The Mountain Goats, or maybe I liked Darnielle’s songs better when there was one man attempting to sound like a band by relentlessly hammering away at an acoustic guitar rather than a band simply performing his songs. Heretic Pride is the first of the 4AD albums I have owned by The Mountain Goats, and admittedly it has taken me quite some time to adjust to an actual band backing Darnielle. It remains a difficult and jagged little pill to swallow, but I knew this evolution was inevitable ever since a fateful day in 1993 that a package arrived from Shrimper containing The Hound Chronicles and Hot Garden Stomp. I knew at first listen that The Mountain Goats would eventually become a full-fledged rock band. I continued to cherish every lo fi masterpiece until the final dying gasp -- All Hail West Texas. Darnielle’s lo fi shtick never got old; unlike so many others who were part of the lo fi movement, the lo fi movement actually defined and embodied Darnielle. Replacing The Mountain Goats’ tape hiss, clanging acoustic guitar and faithful Casio keyboard with a polished band is like take away Hendrix’s axe and handing him a ukulele. Hey Joe, something just ain’t right. But I have to step back and listen to Heretic Pride from another perspective because, if for no other reason, Darnielle -- undoubtedly one of the greatest lyricists of all-time (a distinction he shares with his collaborator, Bruno) -- deserves it. The music is great, the lyrics remain impeccable; but The Mountain Goats just aren’t the same. I’m more than ready for a change in American politics, but I’m still not ready for The Mountain Goats to go hi fi.
(The Mountain Goats will be performing live at the Troubadour on March 4-5.)