Saturday, June 27, 2009

Spinnerette

Having been a fan of Alain Johannes since his Eleven days, I took notice of this new release this week. Alain is a pop-rock songwriter who often managed to attack the genre with some originality and panache. Breaking into some minor chords and some Eastern influences here and there with non-standard transcendental meditative lyrics. This was seen throughout Eleven's career as well as his work with Chris Cornell.

Unfortunately, it seems like Alain has either streamlined for this effort, or maybe given the reigns almost completely to fellow bandleader
Brody Dalle from the Distillers. Brody is an Australian chick and the Distillers, a punk band. The end result here is simple eighth-note pop-punk upbeat ditties.

Vocally, Brody is a
riot grrrl. Distinction is not relevant. Lyrically, we discuss love, loss, relationships, sex with a vague hostility. But it's not brash enough or defined enough to congeal into anything that matters. I suppose it's meant to be accessibly vague for a wide audience of teenage girl Warped tour attendees to handle.

Musically, the band reminds me of
Eagles Of Death Metal, except less clever or funny; and, of course the chick vocals. This is plainest in the opening track, the video of which is included below. The comparison isn't far fetched. Johannes works as a sideman in Queens Of The Stone Age, and Queens frontman Josh Homme is one of said Eagles. It sounds as if Alain just handed over some rejected demos from those bands and let Brody have at it.

Or maybe I'm just sexist. (2 of 5 stars)


Saturday, June 20, 2009

Street Sweeper Social Scene

Having caught this group opening for the NIN/JA tour, and while already being a big fan of the group leaders' previous outputs, I was eagerly anticipating the release of this album. Tom Morello is the most familiar face, throwing riffs and scratchy soloing into the hugely successful Rage Against The Machine and Audioslave. HNIC Boots Riley, though, is only known the select awesome few of us who paid attention to his excellent underground rap group, The Coup. I had actually become introduced to Boots when he played with Tom at the Vogue in Broad Ripple as part of a protest tour with Steve Earle et al.

Obviously, Tom's previous work in the rap-rock genre prepared him well for this. An easy comparison, but listener's will first notice that the fire and intensity of Rage's music has been traded for a looser, funkier, party jam. This fits well with Boots' lyrical delivery, which are similar but different than Zach de la Rocha's.

First of all, you will never find Boots screaming anything. The lyrics may be just as incendiary: "Somewhere in the world it's midnight, and the guerrillas just shot two pigs." But if Rage's songs were meant to start riots, SSSC's music will be playing in the axe-sharpening castle-storming conspiracy meetings. Boots makes his point clearly and concisely, but also with a flair and swagger of someone who probably learned his gift of gab from his corner pimp. i.e "Till we make the revolution, I just hope your life sucks"

In the end, I knocked 'em down a star because, like SSSC, I'm communist and wanted to redistribute the wealth to other albums. (Congratulations Def Leppard!) Just kidding. But really, the album doesn't quite have enough dexterity to differentiate some of the songs apart. The first song, for example, "Fight! Smash! Win!" is actually a pretty lame example of Tom Morello's talents. But there's enough here to keep you totally rocked. And when you stop and listen to the lyrics, you might put down your beer and start assembling your Molotov cocktail. (4 out of 5 stars)

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Chickenfoot

By now, you've heard of this supergroup and their surprising success. Number 4 debut on Billboard's album chart. And since you probably know me, you know of my life's work of defending all of Sammy's life's works. I'm pleased to say that no defense is needed here- this is simply a great band.

Sammy had famously said some months ago something about rivaling Led Zeppelin. Well, the band quickly abandoned such blasphemous talk- but I understand the concept. If you can picture the time in the late sixties, early seventies; Led Zeppelin, Cream and others were championing a new, heavier, electric form of American blues which was enhanced by new studio techniques and psychedelia from the availability of drugs. The performers in these bands would generally do little more than riff out a basic chord structure and jam on it to their hearts content.

Led Zeppelin eventually took the ballgame to a bigger picture. Maybe it was Plant's sex appeal or maybe just the times. But Zep got some girls to the show and bigger venues were required. Soon, bands were exploiting whatever commerciality they could to grab similar cash, and arena rock was born. Arrangements became tighter, lyrics became safer and choruses got more pronounced.

At it's core, Chickenfoot are doing a very good job of holding on to that pre-arena power rock explosion. Like Zep, AC/DC and even Montrose; Chickenfoot revolves around riffs. It's all very loose and once the ball is rolling, there is no hook - it often doesn't even get back to the main riff. The rhythm section just kicks in and exploits the groove. Throw on some lyrics and a song exists. When an ending can't be contrived, you just get to the next verse, hold the one and then yell, "YEAH". More than a song, you've had a moment... a little relationship.

Satriani feels like he's been working his whole life to get to this point. I am quite familiar with his work, but his catalog is way too extensive for me to truly know. Mostly an instrumentalist and a "composer", I've rarely heard him this playful. Maybe I'm just so taken aback because I've been listening more to singer-songwriters these days. The Okkervil Rivers and the Bright Eyes. Where the song is written and performers are bought in to complete the song. This simply feels more organic than that.

So what about the reason that brought me here? How's Sammy faring? I've always said that I love Sammy most when he takes himself seriously. All that beach party stuff of the 2000's sort of fell flat for me. But here, Sammy keeps it as loose as the music. The lyrics are not structured in ways that he's done before- certainly not in 20 years. It's even how I describe David Lee Roth's lyrics. Where there is no "Johnnie working on the docks" who has tough times but still loves his lady. It's more about painting a broad stroked portrait, where you know what we're talking about, but the specifics aren't dwelled upon. It's about love, it's about never giving up, it's about overcoming, it's about positivity. And when the jamming kicks in, Sammy absolutely stands back and let it just be about the groove. He adds his, "uh" and "oh yeah" but he's not fighting with the band. This isn't a Sammy Hagar solo album at all.

On youtube, you can find "12 Days of the Foot" where the band tackle each song individually in interviews. And it's very entertaining. It's 10 minutes a piece, so have some patience. I'll throw my favorite song so far here at the end. And again, it's not going to bowl you over with literal importance, but you should see how the band starts with one groove, moves into a funky space, jumps a train to some Indian vibe, and the rides it out with a power jam. (4 1/2 of 5 stars)

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Eels - Hombre Lobo

Mark Everett moves his band forward, partially as a continuation of one of his song's of old, "Dog Faced Boy". So there are several songs with a Jon Spencer Blues Explosion feel, with cranked up distorted riffs and distorted muddy vocals, like you were hearing them from a porch on some one-watt amplifier. (It also recalls the sound of Tom Waits' "Goin' Out West", but I think you get the picture.)

But that's only half the picture. The other half includes perfectly crafted pop songs. All fairly lilting and understated. Since this album is tantamount to a concept record about romantic want and desire. While the aggressive tunes paint the picture of a seducer or someone who may be loudly lamenting, the quieter portions deal with just the sadder topics. A guy who is feeling the distress of not having the ownership of his desire. See below for the most perfect example of this side of the coin.

Why E has decided to take on this Wolfman moniker for this collection is beyond me. There's nothing horrific about these songs' tones. Nor is a werewolf any particular part of a folklore metaphor for desire. Maybe it's all just about his beard. (3.5 out of 5 stars)