OBITS - Moody, Standard and Poor

The title of this, the second album by Obits, is a pretty apt description of the contents within—in a good way. This record is full of biting, ornery tales played in a straight-ahead punk/garage style by four well-seasoned underground rock dudes who have never gotten close to being rich.

Yep, it could have been a real drag to get through. What saves Moody, Standard and Poor from being a tired bitch session by a bunch of dreary old men is that it's all presented with a dry frankness and—despite titles like "You Gotta Lose", "Everything Looks Better in the Sun" and "Beggin' Dogs"—a genuine joy of playing rock n' roll. Of course, when I say "joy", it's more the kind of pleasure that Oscar the Grouch takes in telling kids to "Scram!" than anything else.

As the main mouthpiece (and grouch) of the band, vocalist/guitarist Rick Froberg is the key to the group’s success here. His steel wool scratch of a pissed-off wail has already been an integral part of two of the best rock bands to come of out of the U.S.: Hot Snakes and Drive Like Jehu. In Obits, he's toned his voice down a touch (no doubt attempting to preserve his sour-honeyed throat) and as a result, he’s grown from disgruntled art student into a sort of Woody Guthrie with a huge throbbing hangover. It’s a shift he wears well and pulls off with ease—he's a man of the working class, but he's got a terrible headache and absolutely no patience.

The band backs up Froberg’s gritted-teeth ranting with a garage/punk/blues hybrid that pulls deeply from the shared goals of those three styles—namely an insistent beat and relaying the message that life is a goddamn unfair bastard. On highlights like "I Want Results" and "Killer", Froberg and the group lurch and prowl with a direct, full-bodied menace. It’s seething, gnarled stuff that few young bands have the goods to match.

Elsewhere, particularly on the instrumentals and the two tracks where second guitarist Sohrab Habibion takes the mic, things are a little more staid. These moments really convey just how much Froberg’s presence makes the band. That said, when the pair trade call-and-response duties on "Shift Operator", the blood races back into the group quite fast.

It’s true that two albums in, Obits hasn’t yet done anything to cast a shadow across either Drive Like Jehu or Hot Snakes’ legacies. But there’s something compelling nonetheless in the honest, humble, and decidedly not innovative approach of the group. Even having Habibion sings a tune or two speaks to an egalitarian approach of guys who are far more concerned with enjoying themselves than 'making it'. Nothing fancy. No frills. Just four men laying it down nice and heavy. When you’ve got a singer as giftedly tense and unsettling as Froberg leading your charge, you could do a lot worse than to keep it simple.

WIRE - Red Barked Tree

"Who are your influences?"

That, the most hated and rudimentary of rock band interview questions, is also one of the most difficult ones to answer honestly. That's because the same cross-pollination that has led us to increasingly broad record collections has greatly muddied and blurred whole paths of rock's family tree. Do young bands that model themselves after Radiohead know that much about Neu! or Autechre? Let's call it indirect inspiration.

In this case, few bands can claim to be as unknowingly pickpocketed by the present as Wire. Sure, that whole Elastica thing was pretty blatant, but nearly two decades after that incident, it's telling that you don't even need to sound much like Wire to borrow from their playbook. Their clipped song lengths and nervous guitar riffs; their synth explorations and mood-setting slabs of atmosphere; their moments of minimalist rhythms—artists can pick up on any one of these characteristics and run with them in any direction they choose (see Guided By Voices' Robert Pollard's assertion that Wire were his favourite band, bringing tiny song lengths to his otherwise Beatles/Who/prog inspired records).

Thankfully, you can add to that list Wire themselves. Because even though 1976 was thirty-five years ago, the band has—intermittently at least—continued to build from and expand on their ground-breaking sound. With Red Barked Tree, their twelfth album, Wire continue to make music that sounds both completely at home in their back catalogue and thoroughly contemporary. 

Despite the mileage, the group is anything but tentative. The lock-step "Moreover" and accurately-titled "Two Minutes" are full of singer Colin Newman's heavily enunciated English vigour, and find Wire in pretty admirable fighting shape. On their own, these noisier tunes would feel a touch forced for a bunch of men pushing 60. Fortunately, these gents were never as simple a concept as many of their contemporaries turned out to be. An ability to construct affectingly reflective pop songs provides Red Barked Tree with the balance that makes it tick. "Adapt" swirls and spins around a beautiful drifting melody, while the acoustically-powered title track is a stately closer that glides home on its repeated quest "to find the healing red-barked trees". And it's not all just about ping-ponging sonically between extremes. "Smash" is the best of both worlds, merging sheets of feedback with a total ear-candy chorus.

For a band that built their rep on playing unpredictably with all of the best elements of punk, underground pop, and experimental music, it makes complete sense that Wire have aged so well—they're never really in one spot long enough for anything to get stale.



THE WHITE WIRES - WWII

Though we've yet to see it firsthand, we've been hearing reports over the last while of a great movement happening right now in our nation's capitol, with a network of groups making the type of catchy garage-punk that our own city is so starved for. Bands with names like The White Wires and labels like Going Gaga Records (with their slogan "the power poppe shoppe") releasing a steady stream of 7" singles and limited edition LPs. It all seemed to good to be true, but we now have the new White Wires album WWII in our hands as proof, and let's just say we're going a little gaga ourselves.

"There's a little place that I want to go/I could take you there if you let me so/Come on, pretty baby/Run away with me tonight" is the album's first line, and a good indicator of what to expect: simple but great lyrics that you can sing along to, a basic guitar/drums/bass setup playings songs with so many hooks that you'll be anchored to your stereo. This Ottawa three-piece writes catchy tunes with such ease, they've almost got it down to a science. Released by Dirtnap Records, The White Wires have much in common with another band on that label, the sorely-missed Exploding Hearts. They both tattoo their influences on their arms, while still coming up with enough fresh ideas to be worth listening to. On "Popularity", frontman Ian Manhire sings about listening "to the sound of the bands today/and you wonder what it takes to make the grade". It's a question worth asking, but with WWII, The White Wires have crafted an album that definitely makes the grade.

ANIKA - S/T

Like another moody, no-frills, B&W-bedecked jewel case released two years back to little initial acclaim but slowly-grown consensus (I'm thinking of Actress' Hazyville, released back in late '08/early '09), Anika's debut stood out upon its release last month not only through its unique take on past styles (more on that later), but also in part due to its December date; the flipside of this was that that very timing put it out of contention for a spot on most listeners' and critics' best-of-year lists (this writer's included!).

Produced by Geoff Barrow of Portishead (credited as a full-band production by Beak>), Anika couldn't be a better candidate for co-release between Barrow's Invada Records and L.A.'s Stones Throw—the latter have spent the last five or so years occasionally spanning out from hip hop to stamp their imprimatur on disparate electronic, experimental pop, dance, and outsider/outlier acts like Gary Wilson, James Pants, Koushik, DāM-FunK and Bruce Haack (as well as countless compiled and podcasted minimal wave artists), and Anika's personality comes off as strong and steely as any of the above, an impressive feat considering the degree to which this record makes a point of showing its influences on its tattered/tailored sleeve, whether interpreting the songs of Skeeter Davis, Yoko Ono, Bob Dylan and Ray Davies or eerily echoing the early-'80s productions and spirit of such staunchly individual acts as The Flying Lizards, Vivien Goldman, ESG, The Slits and PiL.

NO AGE - Everything In Between

No Age's guitar/drums/sampler template is as exhilarating as it is primed to one day expire, but maybe that's the point. It burns on a high octane brand of petrol, and for now, they sound like they’re living on anything but borrowed time—Everything in Between finds this pair subtly shifting their limited pieces to get the most out of their set-up.

The main thing one notices this time out is that melody is front and centre in all but the most soundscape-y tracks. "Life Prowler", "Glitter", Fever Dreaming", "Valley Hump Crash" and especially closer "Chem Trails" are all primarily wicked pop songs, likely to be at the very least appealing in even the most bland scenarios. And while no one will confuse drummer Dean Spunt for a great singer, he sounds more confident here than in the past, often digging into his lower range for near sing-speak vocals. Fans of the rock-ambient-rock tug-of-war that drove 2008's Nouns will find just as much to love here, too. "Katerpillar" and "Dusted" are as beautiful and briefly poignant as past such tracks, while "Skinned" manages to smartly dance between worlds—a nice moment of ambience that quickly turns abrasive as the band amps up their collage.

Which brings us to No Age's main strength. Aside from their youthful bravado and spunk, they've got an uncannily keen sense of the right noise at the right time. Whether its levitating sheets of aural wax paper wrapping themselves around a tune, or sonic scraps of 80-grade sandpaper scouring one another down to a smooth shine, each "non-instrumental" bit arrives with purpose and presence. Simply put, they're really, really good at picking and crafting this stuff and the duo's continued refusal to introduce anything bass-like into the mix just reinforces their clear belief in their methods: guitar + drums + a bunch of crazy noise = wicked. It's the new math, baby.

WE NEVER LEARN: The Gunk Punk Undergut, 1988-2001

Well, well—what do we have here? Why, it's the first book to chronicle the emergence of possibly the most submerged (in terms of "alt-nation" popularity and commerciality) rock subculture of the '90s. Eric Davidson, lead snot-spewing singer of Ohio's New Bomb Turks, has interviewed and written about the groups and movers and shakers of what he's colourfully labelled "the gunk punk undergut": lo-fi garage bands which were too wildly raunchy to subscribe to a strict "'66-only" approach, but too rootsy for hardcore punk purity.

From the U.K.'s Thee Headcoats (led by the ridiculously prolific Billy Childish) to The Mummies out of San Francisco (some nutcases who performed in, you guessed it, sweaty mummy costumes), a crazed commitment to rockin' noise is the common thread among the many diverse gunky groups. None of these sounded like the alt-rock bands which resonated with the indie-loving public at the time, mainly because the gunk-punkers were too uncompromisingly raw, savage, and unapologetically non-arty. Finally, close to a decade ago, The White Stripes, coming out of Detroit's garage-rock underbelly, had the wide-ranging impact that their predecessors/compatriots couldn't/wouldn't muster. With We Never Learn, educating yourself in the fun and frantic times that were had in the gunk punk world is, like the music, a total and bonafide blast!

WHITE FENCE - S/T

When I first got my hands on this disc, I couldn't help but think that these White Fence folks were a pretty mysterious bunch. From seemingly out of nowhere, without any psychedelic accoutrements whatsoever, White Fence had recorded one of the most intriguing and listenable lo-fi soundtracks to an acid-fried state of mind in quite some time. After doing a bit of research, I discovered that this record is actually the brainchild of one Tim Presley of the groups Darker My Love and The Strange Boys. A-ha! White Fence is NOT a group, but a one-man lysergic freakout: now I'm even more impressed.

Without a doubt, Presley has absorbed the sounds of '60s psych merchants like Syd Barrett and The Electric Prunes, while throwing in a dollop or two of garage-punk aggression. But while many a musician has trod this nouveau-psychedelic path before, there aren't too many people these days delivering the goods with this much conviction and with so many melodic hooks. It's one thing to write and record trippy soundscapes, but it takes a special talent to create memorable songs which stand up to repeated listening. And even if the template for White Fence's approach was established years ago, in the hands of someone like Tim Presley, it still sounds as fresh as ever. Definitely one of this reviewer's fave discs of the year thus far.

MALE BONDING - Nothing Hurts

Short and sweet. Three chords, the truth and some bruised ribs. Quick and to the point. A half-hour-ish blast of perfectly pesky pop songs that bring some respect back to the phrase "pop-punk". Lessons learned at the feet of Billy Childish, Graham Coxon, early Supergrass and The Jam absorbed, then scribbled on in the margins and turned into supersonic paper airplanes and spitballs.

And why? Are they really that angry? Nah, just because they can. Because it's fun. Because long songs are boring. Because we all could be skateboarding right now. Because it's only rock n' roll, and we like it and they love it—so much so that they seal it with a K.I.S.S. Man hug!

DUM DUM GIRLS - I Will Be

Sometimes you just need to keep things simple. And even if you could legitimately argue that 'simple' is all the Dum Dum Girls are capable of, I Will Be works by doing just that. In under a half hour, eleven songs skip by with effortless ease and yet, for such a brief encounter, they certainly make an impression. It's not unlike a fleeting glimpse of a particularly cool, attractive boy or girl on the subway—the main difference being that, unlike that now long-gone object of desire, you can bask in the glow of I Will Be again by pressing play (which you likely will do).

Their music is simultaneously approachable and aloof, awash in luxurious reverb, and abundant with an instantly palatable combination of Phil Spector girl-groupiness and Jesus and Mary Chain haze. "Blank Girl" even manages a kind of "Sometimes Always" (the JAMC's killer duet with Hope Sandoval) in reverse, with Crocodiles' lead singer Brandon Welchez (himself a big devotee of the Mary Chain) doing the deadpan Jim Reid honours.

And then there's that name. On the surface, it's seems a self-effacing and preemptive admission of their rather basic M.O. Yeah, yeah, they know, folks—their music is easy to play. But I love the percussive onomatopoeia of "dum-dum", a phrase that perfectly mimics the über-groovy drumbeats that drive I Will Be straight to the heart of hip-shake land. Call it plain. Call it easy. Call it derivative. Just don't call it dumb.

JEFF THE BROTHERHOOD - Heavy Days

Well, here's an album that came out of nowhere. After a customer (who happens to play in a really great band) asked if we were carrying JEFF The Brotherhood's latest album Heavy Days, we said, "Yes, we are," although no one on staff had any clue who they were or what they sounded like. Luckily, we gave it a listen and were pleased with what we heard. Made up of Nashville natives Jake and Jamin Orrall on guitar and drums, Heavy Days possesses a certain playful charm that few hard-rocking duos have. They're a band that doesn't take themselves too seriously, but that doesn't mean they haven't got the chops. In many ways they recall another band very near and dear to our hearts, the recently reunited Thrush Hermit, with whom they share many '70s rock and punk influences. While we're just discovering them now, they've actually been around for for at least five years and have almost 20 releases to their name already, and after catching them live recently, we can attest that this band is the real deal. Dig it, bro.

Alternative content

THE SOFT PACK - S/T

In the space of thirty-two minutes, The Soft Pack's debut album never lets up with its ten turbo-charged tracks. This San Diego-based quartet was formerly known as The Muslims, a name that failed to catch on in the current American political climate. Following the release of a few singles, The Soft Pack continues to offer up a stripped-down, souped-up take on '60s garage and '70s punk/new wave. Along the way, they throw in some surf-guitar licks, and their songs also betray the influence of '80s college rock bands like The Feelies.

The Soft Pack are more than just the sum of their parts, though, for their material is replete with insanely catchy riffs, with lead singer Mark Lamkin's deadpan yet heartfelt vocals expressing cynical disaffection. Once you listen to tracks such as the brazen and anguished "Answer To Yourself", the jangly and melodic "More Or Less", and the relentless "Pull Out", it's a sure thing you'll be hooked to The Soft Pack's hard-driving snot-punk anthems.

TREAT ME LIKE DIRT: An Oral History Of Punk In Toronto And Beyond 1977-1981

Imagine for a moment a Toronto where only bands covering contemporary hits were deemed worthy of performing in bars. Imagine this city devoid of small venues where groups could play original material in front of supportive audiences. That was indeed the Toronto the Good (and downright dull) of the mid-Seventies, when into this musical vacuum stepped in a bunch of bizarrely-dressed, artsy, noisy, rebellious misfits creating the local punk rock scene, one that came hot on the heels of New York and London's in importance.

Author Liz Worth thoroughly researched this labour of love, the first book to chronicle the development of Toronto's punk underground. All the movers and shakers of the scene were interviewed, including members of local legends like The Viletones, The Diodes, The Ugly, and The B-Girls, all offering up bittersweet recollections of making music distinctly at odds with the stagnant rock mainstream of the day. Crucial musicians from Hamilton, an important punk breeding ground giving us Simply Saucer, Teenage Head, and The Forgotten Rebels, also make up an essential chunk of the story. It's a fascinating and occasionally disturbing tale, as the Toronto scene wasn't immune to infighting, gratuitous violence, and drug abuse. Faced with hostile reactions from news media along with radio and record company neglect, it was a pretty thankless job for Southern Ontario punks to make inroads in a country resistant to their audacious music.

Nevertheless, they established the nucleus of Toronto's alternative/indie-rock infrastructure, and Treat Me Like Dirt recognizes the importance of such larger-than-life personalities as The Viletones' Steven Leckie, the aptly-named Mike Nightmare of The Ugly, and Teenage Head's charismatic Frankie Venom, not to mention the managers and promoters who took chances on controversial groups when nobody else wanted to come near them. They're all here in this remarkable book, recommended to anyone who cares about this city's musical legacy.

(Author Liz Worth will be in conversation with Liisa Ladouceur here at Soundscapes on Sat. Feb 13 at 5pm.)

CONVERGE - Axe To Fall

Back in 2006, when art-metal combo Isis had just released their fourth full-length, In The Absence Of Truth, Magnet columnist Andrew Earles chastised vocalist Aaron Turner, asking: "And what’s up with men in their 30s bellowing like 18-year-old hardcore kids? Screaming is one thing; barking like you’re in a ’90s power-violence band is everything this side of silly." The four men in Boston hardcore/metal band Converge are most certainly over 30—nearly 20 years into their career—and vocalist Jacob Bannon is a screamer, no doubt. And lets face it, for a lot of listeners, that's still a turn-off—I know, because I used to be one of them. So, why scream? Is it merely a trapping of a hardcore youth that some bands can't shake? Or can a group of guys in their mid-30s find a legit artistic reason to put their throat through the meat-grinder for another round?

Whether or not it's because 30 is the new 20, Axe To Fall answers this query with an unwaveringly confident "Yes." Like much of Converge's output, this record is quick out of the gate and Bannon wastes no time in unleashing his howl. Even compared to other screamers, Bannon possesses an unholy voice, but what really makes him successful is an uncanny sense of rhythmic placement and timing. That's no small asset here, because the other 3/4 of Converge are tighter than a marine's bootlaces, whilst as unpredictable as chaos itself. Openers "Dark Horse" and "Reap What You Sow" shred at times like vintage Kill 'Em All thrash, while "Damages" hulks and lumbers like an unchained sauropod. In short, this band is truly a force. And ultimately, what excuses the indulgences of torn vocal cords and journal-worthy angst is the fact that Converge are not tethered unwillingly to either. After unleashing a sustained half-hour of the adrenaline rush that hoodie-wearing teens so desperately crave, Axe To Fall closes with a pair of tracks that have more in common with Tom Waits and Fugazi respectively than any hardcore act out there. It would be a bold move if it wasn't one that they've already pulled off in various forms many times before—age and experience have given Converge the guts to be both exactly what their fans love and what they don't yet know that they need.

THE FEELIES - Crazy Rhythms

Crazy Rhythms is a seminal record that provided one of the earliest blueprints for the next 30 years in the development of “indie”. The Feelies were from New Jersey, and shared a strong affinity with the Velvets, Talking Heads, and Television (with whom they shared a dual lead guitar set-up), but their collective instrumental twitchiness pointed in a different direction from their New York forebears. In some ways, they had more in common with New Zealand’s The Clean, another key early indie band that didn’t fit into the main subcultures that emerged out of punk (post-punk, new wave, etc.). You can hear echoes of their sound in The Wedding Present (whose frenetic strum is all over this record, most distinctly on the cover version of “Everybody’s Got Something To Hide Except Me and My Monkey”), Yo La Tengo, The Smiths, The Vaselines, and even Stereolab (check out drone rocker “Forces at Work”, with only one chord change in its 7 minutes). As with the band's recently reissued follow-up (1986's The Good Earth), the original track listing is preserved; bonus tracks, which include demos and live reunion recordings from earlier this year, are available on a download card. 

OBITS - I Blame You

It's ironic that after no less than three projects together, it's Rick Froberg's first significant project away from John Reis that most echoes his old friend's '50s rock sensibilities. I Blame You owes as much to the days of greasers and surfers as the punk/noise that defined Froberg's past killer efforts as Hot Snakes and the seminal Drive Like Jehu. It's a subtle shift that suits the man's acidic pipes to a tee, his reedy, wiry voice channeling the era in a way that suggests the ghost of Buddy Holly stumbling across a Cramps album.

DEATH - ...For The Whole World To See

Sometimes there's nothing like a little Death to liven up a party, and in this case, Death's ...For The Whole World To See is a very welcome addition to the incendiary legacy of high-energy Detroit proto-punk. Consisting of three African-American brothers, this mid-'70s group recorded some ear-blasting, metallic, jams-kicking songs in the vein of The MC5, especially on this disc's lead-off track "Keep On Knocking", on which Death's lead singer sounds like a dead ringer (no pun intended) for Rob Tyner. Other highlights include the aptly-titled "Freakin' Out" and "Politicians In My Eyes", making for one excellent punkadelic reissue.

FLAMIN' GROOVIES - Flamingo/Teenage Head

Courtesy of the excellent Rev-Ola reissue label comes this terrific two-fer of the Flamin' Groovies' seminal 1970-71 albums, Flamingo and Teenage Head. It was from the latter that Hamilton's punk-rockin' finest got their name--fittingly enough, since the Groovies proved themselves to be perfect punk precursors, all the while mining the rich, raunchy heritage of '50s rockabilly and R&B. Both albums feature snarling Stones-y originals, often out-rolling and rocking Mick Jagger and co. The careening covers (including a Randy Newman number!), slide-guitar playing, Roy Loney's snotty vocals, and overall bad-ass attitude make this disc as essential as The Stooges or MC5. And the Groovies' later power-pop excursions are not to be missed either, but that's a whole other story...

PATTI SMITH & KEVIN SHIELDS - The Coral Sea

One to follow his muse in a supporting role no matter how much his popping up in the wings may frustrate those longing for him to retake the spotlight, it's no surprise to hear Kevin Shields' glide guitar relegated here to volume-pedal swells and accents. This is Patti Smith's show, after all, an hour-long spoken-word prose poem written to honour the late-'80s passing of photographer Robert Mapplethorpe, evocative fantasies (that "sea of possibilities" so famously sungspoken on Horses) spilling out from death's sad, final truth, recorded on stage at London's Queen Elizabeth Hall in 2005, then 2006.

JOY DIVISION - Unknown Pleasures/Closer/Still (2CD Collector's Editions) / OST - Control

           

What better way to celebrate Halloween than with some Joy Division. On the eve of this holiday comes both the soundtrack to Anton Corbijn's new film, Control, and a trio of collector's edition reissues. Unknown Pleasures and Closer, the two proper studio albums by the band, remain iconic touchstones of an at-the-time unheard of style of bleak, cutting songcraft. The half studio/half live Still is a slightly more uneven listen, but still contains stellar highlights, including "Dead Souls" and an early live version of "Ceremony", which became New Order's first single. As for the bonus material, each edition comes with a complete live set. The live sound quality is erratic and primitive, but it suits the band's twitchy, acidic performances perfectly, especially that of their darkly charismatic singer, Ian Curtis. Curtis himself is the main focus of Corbijn's Control, and the soundtrack sets the mood well. This collection won't provide much in the way of surprises for diehards (and some of the surprises, like the Killers' cover of "Shadowplay", may not be seen as a wise idea by all), but the cast themselves do a bang up job on "Transmission" and the rest of the soundtrack is a solid catalogue of influences and pivotal Joy Division/New Order tunes.

LIARS - Liars

It wasn't long ago that many folks had written Liars off as a trendy funk-punk New York band that lost the plot and wasted their potential on fruitless self-indulgence. Oops. This trio has since had the last laugh when their brilliantly warped 2006 release Drum's Not Dead broadsided our ears with its undeniably raw power. And the chuckling can go on because this eponymous effort is every bit as unexpected, kinetic, and wonderfully mad as its predecessor. Less centered exclusively around percussion and voice, this album is dark, primal and quotes generously from the past of 60s/70s garage-punk.