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Album Review: Various Artists — Drink a Toast to Innocence

Wednesday, May 1st, 2013

As far back as the 1980s, the great philosopher Huey Lewis proclaimed that it’s “hip to be square.” Good thing, that, because like many of my rock’n'roll fan contemporaries, I got my musical start buying albums (cassettes, really) by some of the soft-sounds purveyors of the early 70s: The Carpenters, Sonny and Cher, Jim Croce and the like.

For many years, it simply wasn’t cool to admit a fondness for such non-rocking things. It all began to change in the 1990s, amidst a flurry of self-consciously ironic mini-trends: the cocktail nation/exotica craze and all manner of tribute albums. The 1994 release If I Were a Carpenter featured updates/rethinks of much-loved songs by Karen and Richard, done by hot-in-the-moment contemporary artists.

But once that ironic stance subsided, things calmed down a bit and people began to admit a bit more freely that, yeah, some of this stuff is pretty good. As a result, artists like Ben Folds could freely admit inspiration by the likes of Burt Bacharach without being labeled as soft (though Folds did famously describe his music as “punk rock for sissies”).

In 2013, an impressive list of pop/powerpop artists contributed to a new compilation titled Drink a Toast to Innocence: A Tribute to Lite Rock. Drawing its title from a Dan Fogelberg lyric is the first clue that the songs on the set will be of the sort that blanketed AM radio back in the day.

Thankfully, the varied approaches employed by the artists aims for the middle ground. For the most part, these aren’t insipid, soft-rock retreads, and they’re not hard-rock bashers, either. The artists tend to look for the hooks and the melodies, and craft updated readings that highlight those qualities. The result is that – as rendered by Eytan Mirsky — Rupert Holmes‘ “The Piña Colada Song” isn’t nearly as annoying as it once was. It’s actually pretty good, with a driving bass line and some nice electric guitar licks atop a gurgling organ. The Davenports‘ rocked-up “Just When I Needed You Most” feels a bit like Fountains of Wayne, and that’s always a good thing. Plasticsoul‘s “Sentimental Lady” plays it straight, quite similar in arrangement to both the Fleetwood Mac and Bob Welch versions.

Lannie Flowers‘ distinctive vocals are applied to an unorthodox arrangement on Orleans‘ “Dance With Me.” The result sounds like Flowers’ original material crossed with Mary Hopkin‘s “Those Were the Days.” Weird but successful, and awarded extra points for being the most out-of-the-box and inventive reading on this set.

Popdudes aren’t the first to cover Walter Egan‘s “Magnet and Steel.” Matthew Sweet contributed a version to the 90s soundtrack of Sabrina The Teenage Witch; Popdudes’ version is another played-straight reading. In fact quite a few of the artists on Drink a Toast to Innocence seem unburdened by any desire to re-imagine these songs: Joe Giddings‘ “Undercover Angel” funks things up a bit, but the breezy backing vocals ensure that the version would work fine on the soundtrack to another Brady Bunch film.

Mike Viola is among the best-known of the artists involved with this project; though he pens some fantastic original tunes of his own on solo albums (and as Candy Butchers), he’s best known for his lead vocal on the the title song from That Thing You Do! Here he takes on Robbie Dupree‘s “Steal Away,” layering a bunch of retro-sounding synthesizer lines; the result suggests what The Wonders might have sounded like circa 1977 had they stayed with Play-Tone.

Those analog synths are a highlight of Bleu‘s “Baby Come Back,” though the Leslie-effect guitar is prominent (it had to be, of course). The vocal harmonies are flawless, even as they deliver insipid lyrics (what, exactly, is “false bravado?”). This may be the strongest cover on the entire collection, though it can’t really be said to add anything new to the song.

People of a certain age may remember “Thank You for Being a Friend” as the theme song from The Golden Girls, but thankfully those of us who are a bit older recall Andrew Gold‘s original version instead. Brandon Schott‘s cover plays it close to the original arrangement (do you sense a pattern here?). The Sonic Executive Sessions turn in a lovely reading of Stephen Bishop’s “On and On,” and sidestep Bishop’s idiosyncratic pronunciation of the title lyrics; this is another album highlight, full of creamy vocal harmonies. But it’s up to Linus of Hollywood to turn in the winner of the bunch, a lite-powerpop cover of “More Than I Can Say,” originally by Leo Sayer. Shimmering guitar lines, a lilting beat and just enough grit in the electric guitars make this a delight. Greg Pope leans in an acoustic singer-songwriter direction to cover the late-period Poco tune “Crazy Love.” Wyatt Funderburk employs a similar approach on Michael Johnson‘s one-hit-wonder “Bluer Than Blue,” and it suits the song perfectly.

Vegas With Randolph know how to rock, but they dial it way back for a balladeering cover of Little River Band‘s “Cool Change.” Well, they do for the first minute or so; then they switch over to their trademark sound, and it works really well; ignore the lyrics and enjoy the dynamics of this winning cover. Seth Swirsky gamely (and effectively) tackles the falsetto vocal lines of Henry Gross‘ lovely ballad about a dog, “Shannon.”

Cliff Hillis‘ cover of “Shake It” improves on the original; you won’t be embarrassed if you’re caught listening to it. Noted music journalist and author Paul Myers hauls out the synthesizers for his interpretation of Michael Martin Murphey‘s “Wildfire” (what was it with all these 70s tunes about animals, anyway?). His intelligent use of the machines results in an organic reading that doesn’t feel at all synthetic. And his vocal harmonies – a hallmark of so many of the songs on this set – are impressive.

Sunshine on Mars don’t attempt to recreate Elvin Bishop‘s distinctive volume-pedal guitar tone on “Fooled Around and Fell in Love,” and the female lead vocal necessitates the changing of the lyric to “a million boys,” but otherwise it’s another relatively straight reading. Atlanta Rhythm Section‘s “So Into You” was right on the edge of the lite-rock genre (it rocked, a little), and Willie Wisely‘s cover takes it in yet another direction, with a vaguely salsa vibe. It works surprisingly well, conjuring mental images of sexy dancers.

An American Underdog take on Jay Ferguson‘s “Thunder Island,” and the result is a lot of fun, with the requisite distorted guitars and dynamics that were such an integral part of the original’s appeal.

Ambrosia‘s “How Much I Feel” gets a lovely if straight reading from Kyle Vincent; to be fair, the arrangement is what made this song to begin with, so perhaps re-imagining it wasn’t truly an option. Lisa Mychols is one of few female vocalists on the set; her almost-grunge, rocking cover of David Soul‘s “Don’t Give Up On Us” beats the hell out of the original, one of the most insipid tunes covered here.

A set like this wouldn’t be complete without a song based around a Fender Rhodes melody. So Throwback Suburbia‘s cover of Climax Blues Band‘s “I Love You” fits that bill. The slightly over-emoting vocal approach strikes just the right note for this crooning number.

David Myhr takes on one of the most challenging song here, 10cc‘s “Things We Do for Love.” His cover isn’t as transcendent as the original, but then, to be fair, few things are. And Mike Ruekberg‘s delightfully rocking “Believe it Or Not” somehow removes the cheesiness of the original, making the tune better than it was.

Kelly Jones turns in a country-pop version of England Dan and John Ford Coley‘s “I’d Really Love to See You Tonight.” It’s successful for what it is, but the arrangement – softer than the soft original – feels a bit out of place on this set. By contrast, Paul Bertolino subtly ups the rock-quotient on his cover of Firefall‘s Just Remember I Love You,” short-listed as one of the best readings on this 28-song collection.

Drink a Toast to Innocence: A Tribute to Lite Rock is available in a variety of formats, including (yay!) a 2LP vinyl set.

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Capsule Reviews: March 2013, Part 2

Friday, March 15th, 2013

Here’s yet another in my occasional series of capsule reviews; once again I had a huge stack of CDs deserving of review, but time doesn’t allow for full-length reviews of everything, and these were in danger of gathering dust. They deserve better. As per usual, my self-imposed limit for this particular exercise is 150 words on each album.

Red Jacket Mine — Someone Else’s Cake
I don’t like to quote from the one-sheets that often accompany review CDs, so I won’t. But I’ll agree heartily with the angle taken on the one-sheet for Red Jacket Mine‘s album: this is an act that’s hard to pin down stylistically. Some retro elements (combo organ textures) are folded into the modern-feeling songs, but overall there’s a classicist approach that reminds (albeit not overtly) of the best AM radio rock of the 70s. Someone Elses’s Cake sounds like a record full of hits’ at least it will to those who came up in the 70s. It’s the kind of thing that can (and should) appeal equally to those with and without any sense of musical history. Because in the end, good songs and good arrangement are timeless qualities. Often those qualities are in short supply, but not here. Consistently entertaining, this will stick with you long after it’s done.

Stephen Lawrenson — Obscuriosity
Here I go on another mini-rant about album packaging: the red-herring cover art says “Americana” but the music says…well, it screams “rawk!” Claustrophobic production technique doesn’t always work, but it suits Stephen Lawrenson just fine, and gives his power-chording ravers an up-close and personal feel. Those creamy harmonies serve a nice counterpoint to the crunchy, distorted guitars: think of Smithereens‘ balanced and effective approach. The short, snappy songs pack a wallop; while spinning Obscuriosity, listeners may think of Owsley, Redd Kross, Greenberry Woods and other from the class of Early 90s alt-powerpop. Lawrenson is a one-man-band here, but the results sound organic enough that you’ll be happily fooled into thinking the album is the work of a four-on-the-floorsome. I have a strong feeling that this CD is going to get quite a few spins, especially in my car stereo: it’s very much that sort of album. Strongly recommended.

Dave Kilminster — Scarlet – The Director’s Cut
As Eric Clapton and a few other aces have shown, a guitarist can bend one’s guitar style to the needs of another artist – say, Roger Waters – while maintaining one’s own musical personality. Dave Kilminster has done this. On his solo album, he purveys a vaguely funky (but stridently rocking) direction. Other than bass, drums and string sections, it’s all him. His vocal range allows him to go from the lead parts to some soaring bits all within one song. The funkiness is of a Red Hot Chili Peppers sort, but with a stronger sense of melody. His axework is generally out front – the songs are often built around powerful riffage, such as on “Static” – but not in a showoffy way. When he heads for softer territory (see “Just Crazy”), he shows a pleasing subtler side, but it’s on rockers where he’s at his best.

Golden Bloom — No Day Like Today
I reviewed Golden Bloom‘s last EP in 2011, and while I rarely allow indie acts a second drink from the well – there’s simply so much else to cover – No Day Like Today is engaging enough to merit an exception. Last time ’round we got six songs; this time, five. But they’re chiming, appealing tunes that balance wistfulness, melancholy and an overall sunny disposition. There’s a welcome, introspective maturity on “Deliver it for Me” that shows this group has plenty of range within their chosen approach. “Shadow of a Man” combines campfire vibe with a punky attitude, and the result is neither Americana nor pop-punk; it’s simply good. Usually on an EP an artist trims away any filler, and that’s what Shawn Fogel and his bandmates have done here – but if you put this together with the last EP, the result is a pretty strong album.

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Capsule Reviews: March 2013, Part 1

Friday, March 8th, 2013

Here’s another in my occasional series of capsule reviews; once again I had a huge stack of CDs deserving of review, but time doesn’t allow for full-length reviews of everything, and these were in danger of gathering dust. They deserve better. My self-imposed limit for this particular exercise is 150 words on each album.

Deni Bonet – It’s All Good
Typically, I’m not drawn to folky female fiddlers. That’s what I wrongly assumed Deni Bonet was; her music’s much harder to pin down than that. Sure, her violin playing is up front, but her tunes are exuberant, highly catchy pop songs. Imagine Nurds-era Roches with an even more playful side, and a more rock-centric approach. It certainly helps that Bonet is aided in her musical goals by co-writer (on some tracks) and producer Richard Barone, a legendary talent in his own right. Bonet has a clear, appealing voice, and her songs stick in your mind long after the CD’s done spinning. Steve Holley (of late-period Wings) plays drums on several tracks, and Bonet’s violin often serves the sonic role normally assigned to electric guitar. And when there is lead guitar, Bonet’s fiddle engages in lively sparring. REM‘s Peter Buck lends massive guitar overdubbage support on “Safety Date.” Fun stuff.


Thorcraft Cobra – Count It In
The first few seconds of the opening track are a red herring: Autotune/Vocoder-treated vocals chirp “You can count me out,” and for a second, I shared that sentiment. But then a muffled laugh gave way to a power-chording rocker much more in tune with my musical sensibilities. Taking a page from such his-n-her acts as Captain and Tennille and Sonny & Cher (okay, not really), Thorcraft Cobra‘s Billy Zimmer (guitar) and Tammy Glover (drums; both sing) actually have little in common with those acts. Nor, thank goodness, are they yet another White Stripes retread. Instead they ply their trade in the punky powerpop end of the pool, and enlist help from kindred spirits Steve McDonald (of punky powerpop legends Redd Kross) and Russ Mael of those prototypical bent art rockers, Sparks. The augmented duo amps things up to Cheap Trick levels, with a sly wit recalling Fountains of Wayne.


Backhouse Lily – Discoma
When the drum-n-bass subgenre came on the scene in the 90s, I didn’t pay much attention. It didn’t move me. But clearly some very interesting things can be done with a rhythm section if the players are good enough, and if the inspiration is there. Back in the 90s Ben Folds Five‘s Robert Sledge showed that electric bass could credibly be used as a lead instrument without being overly gimmicky. But Backhouse Lily turns both of those aforementioned concepts on their heads: yes, they’re drum-n-bass, but their approach is a sort of instrumental progressive rock, not miles away from Russian Circles but with a much more commercial flavor. Like the work of no wave auteur Glenn Branca, Backhouse Lily’s music often suggests the presence of instruments that simply aren’t there. What is there is bass-led music that’s a helluva lot more fun (and miles smarter) than, say, Primus. Highly recommended.


Secret Friend – Time Machine
Australia has an uncanny knack for turning out some of the sunniest, catchiest, friendly (but not lightweight) pop music. Sure, it’s a really big country, and generalizations are hard to make, but there’s no way to explain away the finely-wrought and seemingly effortless kind of music that Secret Friend presents on this album. Reminiscent in places of The Milk and Honey Band, Secret Friend (Steven Fox and Linus of Hollywood plus assorted friends) crafts breezy songs that are impossibly appealing. Keen listeners will hear all sorts of influences, as the songs aren’t all built around a fixed set of instruments, but Fox doesn’t lean too much in any one direction. The result is a sound that’s all his own. Sometimes vocalist Willie Wisely sounds a bit like Justin Hayward fronting, say, Haircut 100. His female foil is the honey-voiced Kelly Jones. Time Machine is MUST-hear for fans of infectious pop.

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Album Review: Hot Nun – Hot Nun

Friday, March 1st, 2013

When the self-titled CD from Hot Nun arrived in my mailbox recently, it seemed oddly familiar to me. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but the package’s graphic design was reminiscent – not in actual look, but rather in style – of something else in my collection. When I opened up the gatefold sleeve, I noticed the name Jeff Shelton listed as producer, sole songwriter, and band member (vocals, guitar, bass, synth). Aha, I thought, I remember him from The Well Wishers, the band who created one of powerpop’s better releases in recent memory.

Then the I put on the CD, and the similarities continued. Hot Nun is a hard-edged outfit, leaning more on the Redd Kross / Material Issue / Cheap Trick school of rockin’ out than The Well Wishers (essentially Shelton solo) did. Guitars are set on “stun” (or with the distortion turned up nice), power chords abound, and the bass often plays in lockstep with the rhythm guitar as they chug through some heavy riffage. You get the rock tropes – handclaps, drummer insistently hitting the bell of his ride cymbal on the middle eight – but it’s all done in a fresh manner, never seeming slavishly retro.

Well, not slavishly, but there’s definitely a pleasing whiff of retro here. “Spirit of 76” (not the Redd Kross tune) is an ode to, well, you know. Its paeans to radio, and a time when listening to music was often more of a communal than solitary experience – are a clear nod in the direction of a past that’s sadly gone. “Who Do You Love” (not the Bo Diddley rock’n'roll chestnut) chugs along nicely, and some clever shifting of dynamics makes the song catchy and memorable.

“Queen Bitch” (not a similarly-named cover but the actual David Bowie song) trades Bowie’s acoustic approach for a harder-rocking arrangement that’s probably closer to how the Spiders From Mars played it live, right down to Shelton’s faux-British vocalizing. Screeching tires signal the careening “Who Do You Think You re?” the album’s most manic number. It’s as if the trio decided, “let’s combine all the elements we’ve used on the previous seven tunes, and then play twice as hard and fast.” It’s a delightful way to end this short album, leaving the listener breathless. And, I should add, ready for more.

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Album Review: Skrang: Sounds Like Bobby Sutliff

Wednesday, February 27th, 2013

Positive things can spring from tragedy. This isn’t to suggest even for a moment that they mitigate the tragedy, or that they’re some sort of silver lining. But still.

I’m not sure how, but I completely missed the music of The Windbreakers. Often mentioned in the same breath as Rain Parade, and associated with the very best of 80s indie/retro/paisley/whatever scenes, they released five highly-regarded LPs during that decade. And they reunited in the 21st century for some further releases. But still, I never heard ‘em. So much music, so little time.

In summer 2012 Windbreakers guitarist Bobby Sutliff suffered a very severe car accident, and – as is far too often the case – to add insult to serious injury, his medical bills were astronomical. So recently, an all-star collection of his friends and associates rallied to compile Skrang: Sounds Like Bobby Sutliff, a collection of eighteen songs written by Sutliff.

The thing about tribute CDs in general is that – due in part to their often zero-budget nature – the performances can have a phoned-in or demo-ey feel. Sometimes the artists involved are doing a bit of bandwagon jumping, with a goal more aligned with gaining exposure than actually paying tribute to an artist.

Skrang is the exception that proves the rule, however. It has more in common with a Yellow Pills compilation (in terms of the performance quality) or the peerless Children of Nuggets box set in terms of song quality and overall ear-candiness. The artists involved are all present for the right reasons, and have contributed top-notch reading of Sutliff’s songs. If you didn’t know better (and I wouldn’t have) you’d never suspect that these songs were all the compositional work of one man.

It does a disservice to any of the acts on Skrang to single out any of these tracks, since every one of them is worthy in its own way. But a few songs do rise to the top. Matt Piucci with members of Rain Parade turn in a reading of “That Stupid Idea” that strongly recalls (in the best possible way) The Beatles‘ “Tomorrow Never Knows.” (Rain Parade reunited for the recent Sutliff tribute show in Atlanta; I missed it, damn it.) The jangle-quotient on The Anderson Council‘s “Griffin Bay” combines the best qualities of “I Feel Fine” with Smithereens-style punch. Tom Stevens (best known as a member of Long Ryders) turns in a windswept version of “Bitter Fruit” that brings the song’s c&w vibe to the fore while still jangle-rocking. Michael Carpenter raves things up with “Long Red Bottle of Wine,” a strong contender for the best song on the whole set, thank to its perfect balance of riffage, jangle (yep, lots of jangle on Skrang) and creamy vocal harmonies. The same can be said of Koenig’s Road‘s “Ghost Town.”

Skrang (the title is a Sutliff word-coinage for “the sound of an open chord on an electric guitar”) is quite successful as a collection of great songs from a wide array of artists; a suitable showcase for the songwriting talents of Bobby Sutliff; and, if you buy it, a way to help defray at least in part the guitarist’s medical expenses. What’s not to love?

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Album Review: True Hearts – s/t

Thursday, February 14th, 2013

In addition to their esteemed role as one of the go-to labels for new powerpop (and, I understand, alt.country), Kool Kat Musik has taken on an additional role: powerpop archivist. With their latest unearthing of the 1980 self-titled release from True Hearts, the label continues its fine work.

The songs on True Hearts absolutely scream 1980, but there’s not a thing wrong with that. New wave was bubbling under, and the influence of The Producers, The Knack and other bands of that caliber were exerting their influence on countless local/regional bands, in a manner similar to (but on a much smaller scale than) the garage scene of the mid 1960s. Houston-based True Hearts were one of myriad tuneful rock bands plying their trade in those days, but their songwriting and arrangement styles took many of the right cues from some of the best that pop music had to offer at the time.

True Hearts were a four-piece, and their studio arrangements seemed – either by design or necessity (or perhaps both) to stick to a sound that could be recreated live onstage at the local bar. You won’t hear a surfeit of overdubs and/or production flourishes; while the production (ostensibly by the band; an engineer is credited, but not a producer per se) is clean and straightforward, it’s sharp and not at all demo-ey.

Most of the songs are built around the basic guitar-bass-drums arrangement, but occasionally the band takes a side trip down retro paths, as on “If I’m Late,” with its shades of ’67 Beatlesisms. The mercifully brief “A Girl in a Men’s Magazine” is borderline fey; it might have seemed adventurous in 1980, but it hasn’t worn well. But when the band sticks to is strong suit – four-on-the-floor, riffy rock, they fare much better. After awhile, songs like “Trust Me Candy” and “God’s Gift to Girls” begin to tumble into one another – True Hearts’ rocking songs aren’t a varied lot – but they’re fun while they’re playing, and might make the listener wish for a t-top Camaro in which to play the disc.

The brief liner notes don’t make clear which of the four takes most of the lead vocals (they all sing on the album), but what is clear is that he sounds uncannily similar to Graeme “Shirley” Strachan, lead singer for Australia’s Skyhooks (without the Aussie accent, of course). And while drummer Rick Holeman‘s incessant roto-tom fills start out as merely an amusingly dated characteristic, they soon become (though injudicious overuse) an annoying tic: did he have some sort of endorsement deal that required him to use the rotos on every song? But those are minor quibbles, and every era has its musical clichés (wah-wah pedals, the Patented Phil Collins Gated Reverb Drum Sound™, etc.) so they get a qualified pass here. Less forgivable are the tight-yet-somehow-flat backing harmony vocals on “Talkin’ Bout Girls.”

Bonus points to True Hearts for not taking the easy way out and tossing a ringer of a cover onto their album; nearly all of the songs are composed solely by the group’s multi-instrumentalist (and probable lead singer, now that I think about it) Terry Carolan. Perhaps the strongest cut on the album is also its speediest: “Sleep Tight” would have been the best contender for inclusion on a powerpop compilation of the era (as it happened, a song the liner notes describe as “the anthemic ‘Everyime’” did earn that honor, but it’s not included here). The liners also tell us that True Hearts’ total recorded legacy is seventeen songs; the eleven on this set represent the output of the original lineup.

Not deathless music, and somewhere short of essential, True Hearts remains worth hearing for fans of the 1980 brand of powerpop, and for anyone who wished Skyhooks made an album in which they dialed back their bent humor. And of course perversely misguided fans of those f&#@ing roto-toms will treasure this one forever.

Available exclusively from Kool Kat Musik.

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Book (P)review: Boys Don’t Lie – A History of Shoes

Thursday, February 7th, 2013

On my desk at the moment is a pre-release Kindle copy of Mary E. Donnelly‘s long awaited book about the Zion, IL powerpop group. Shoes began their recording career in the 1970s and continue to present-day; in fact they’ll be making a relatively rare live appearance soon, at this year’s SXSW. (If you’re going to Austin for the fest, Shoes are a must-see.)

The last year has seen quite a bit of Shoes-related activity: The group’s first studio album in decades, Ignition, was released. A career-spanning collection came out (here’s a review of 35 Years: The Definitive Shoes Collection 1977-2012). Their back catalog is being reissued on vinyl in a multi-month rollout. And last Summer I interviewed bassist John Murphy about all of these and more, including Donnelly’s book.

While I’m busy working my way through this weighty tome, I invite you to check out the other features and reviews mentioned above. And I’ll report back here shortly after I finish the book.

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Album Review: Jamie & Steve — Imaginary Café

Wednesday, January 30th, 2013

I’ve probably told the story before: growing up in Atlanta, I discovered the Spongetones‘ debut LP Beat Music in the bin of an indie record shop not long after its release. I was taken in first by the cover photos, images that clearly suggested these guys has a Beatles fixation (always a good thing in my book). The inner sleeve reinforced that, what with pics of them in a sort of 80s rethink of Beatles ’65: skinny ties, yes, but also a Let it Be-era bearded Macca lookalike wielding a Hofner violin bass. And the music was – of course – the best part: original songs that sounded like the best Beatles outtakes you’ve never heard.

Fast forward to around 2000. Having relocated to Asheville NC, I discover that the band – based in Charlotte (a bit over two hours’ drive), play locally on occasion. But locals who loved ‘em – and there were many – knew the quartet not as a band that played originals, but as a cover band par excellence, a group that could convincingly recreate – onstage – works such as “I Am the Walrus.” and their prowess and interest, I learned, extended well beyond Beatlesisms; they were heavily influenced by all sorts of sixties pop, distilling it into their original material and their live cover-centric shows.

Anyway, consider me a fan for life. I’ve since met the guys a number of times, interviewed them and written a good bit about them. A few years back, as the Spongetones drew down (but did not curtail) their live onstage and recording activity, half of the group – guitarist/producer/vocalist Jamie Hoover and bassist/vocalist Steve Stoeckel – launched themselves as a duo called Jamie & Steve. Freed from whatever stylistic box the Spongetones label may have forced them into, the duo was now open to explore an even wider range of their musical vision.

In practice, this has manifested itself in occasional live dates, and on three releases. Their debut was 2009′s English Afterthoughts, followed up by a 2011 EP wryly titled The Next Big Thing, and now in 2013, another EP, Imaginary Café.

The title track weds their signature style to a heavier bass-and-drum backing than is typical of the ‘Tones, and the song leans on the dual-lead vocals of the pair. That sounds like a Theremin – or maybe just one of those vintage analog synths Stoeckel always has on his repair bench – deep in the mix. Swirling sounds in the song’s breaks mix things up nicely, as do some flown-in sounds and 70s-styled dual lead guitar a la Thin Lizzy or (shudder) Boston.

Stoeckel’s vocals and some countrified picking are the centerpiece of “Gold Mine.” There’s an intimate, friendly ambience to this and all the songs on Imaginary Café; though they were cut in the duo’s home studio(s), the songs feel as if they were laid down in front of a small, enthusiastic-yet-somehow-silent audience. “Gold Mine’s” splashy drums heighten this feel.

And percussion – specifically tympani – is a centerpiece of “Tokyo Sleeping,” a contemplative, midtempo song featuring some creamy vocal harmony work from the duo. The final minute-plus of the song conjures peak-era Beach Boys without overtly mimicking them. The title of “I’m a Dangerous Man” telegraphs a harder approach, but in truth this is another of Jamie & Steve’s Jekyll-and-Hyde numbers, in which the song’s perspective and arrangement ping-pong between two vastly different (but ultimately complementary) styles.

When I saw the title “Your Name Here,” I briefly wondered if it was a template for a wonderfully endearing ongoing project of Stoeckel’s: on friends’ birthdays, he sometimes crafts custom songs (I was honored with just such a gift last month). But no, this is an original love song in the Spongetones’ illustrious tradition. The always-over-too-soon EP wraps with a delightful slice of soaring, tuneful powerpop called “We Two.” It’s perhaps the catchiest number on the whole EP, and will leave the listener anxious for more from the endlessly creative team that is Jamie & Steve.

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Album Review: The Cleaners From Venus – Living With Victoria Grey

Monday, January 28th, 2013

I sometimes wonder if Martin Newell gets tired of all the Ray Davies comparisons. I mean, the man (Newell) has released something like thirty or forty albums (many of these on cassette, back in the 1980s) as Cleaners From Venus, Brotherhood of Lizards, and under his own name. While many of these were zero-budget, decidedly homespun affairs – whether he wears the crown proudly or not, Newell is, along with R. Stevie Moore, a true godfather of the whole DIY music movement – Newell’s innate sense of melody always shone though.

While the pop(ular) music landscape of the late 1980s was pop(ulated) by the likes of Dire Straits and their appealing-enough-but-not-exactly-groundbreaking peers, Newell’s band (usually just him and Giles Smith) enjoyed what looked at the time like a big break: they got a record deal, and a budget for “proper” recording. Now, the label was small – and would eventually go belly up, as labels do – and the budget was tiny, but the fruits of this relatively brief era were the best of all possible worlds. The music – sometimes new songs, sometimes re-recorded version of tunes from the Cleaners’ cassette catalog – kept its hooky charm, and avoided that deadly whiff of sellout-commercialism that cult fans fear when their favorite act makes it “big.”

That period of the Cleaners’ history has been anthologized a number of times, owing both to the high caliber of the songs (something true of pretty much all Newell’s work) and the relative polish of the production, the latter of which makes it more accessible to mainstream-attuned ears. A pair of CDs came out on the tiny Tangerine label (no relation to Ray Charles) in the mid 90s: Golden Cleaners (1993) and Back From the Cleaners (1995); both drew form this “accessible” period of the Cleaners’ vast catalogue. And both were utterly fantastic, filled with Newell’s wry vignettes of workaday life in England (well, the twin Englands of reality and his vivid imagination/memory).

A few years later, Cherry Red compiled Cleaners and Newell solo material (close your eyes and the sonic differences are negligible between the two) on a ’99 set called The Wayward Genius of Martin Newell. Now, you might think, why so many collections of material by a guy few have even heard of? The answer is simple and twofold: one, it’s that damn good. And two, the stuff isn’t easy to get ahold of, having been issued on all manner of small and/or short-lived labels, mostly on the Continent.

So once again, in 2004, Cherry Red took a crack at compiling the highlights from the “big time” [sic] era of The Cleaners from Venus, with Living With Victoria Grey: The Very Best of the Cleaners From Venus. Sure, there was a good bit of overlap with those Tangerine discs, but good luck finding those anyway.

Or the Cherry Red one, for that mater. But here’s the great news for 2013. Living With Victoria Grey (titled after one of the very best Cleaners tunes) is out again, reissued by boutique label Optic Nerve. But wait: it’s on vinyl! And not just any vinyl…it’s on that heavy stuff, lovingly pressed in splatter-colored grey (grey…get it)? A wonderful gatefold sleeve and a lavish full-size booklet full of photos and wry essays by both Newell and Giles Smith make it even better. You can enjoy the booklet, but my suggestion is to leave it alone while the music plays; the rich, timeless pop that is Cleaners From Venus music deserves your undivided attention. Once the records are done – eighteen tracks on the pair of LPs – you’ll have time to enjoy the entertaining written words of these two wordsmiths. (Aside: I’d strongly recommend you track down Smith’s book Lost in Music; it deals in great and amusing detail with his Cleaners-era experiences, and is laugh-out-loud funny to boot.)

No, Newell doesn’t sound at all like Ray Davies. But his body of work does indeed deserve mention in the same breath – in the same rarefied air – as the Kinks‘ leader. Track down this new, limited-edition set Living Victoria Grey, and in so you’ll be doing your small part to help rescue Newell and his music from that bittersweet situation known as “undiscovered genius.”

The limited-edition vinyl (500 copies!) of Living With Victoria Grey: The Very Best of The Cleaners From Venus is available from Optic Nerve Recordings.

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Capsule Reviews: January 2013, Part Two

Wednesday, January 16th, 2013

Here’s another installment in my occasional series of capsule reviews, this time covering new releases by indie/self-released artists. My self-imposed limit for this particular exercise is 150 words on each album.

War Poets – Dulce et Decorum Est
Every so often an act comes along that is – or at least seems to be – less a group and more a collective. New Pornographers, Traveling Wilburys, The Grays…whether these outfits stayed together a long time is less important than the special quality they all possessed: talent and creativity to burn. Now, while those aforementioned acts are made up of names you’d recognize, that quality is not always a necessary ingredient. Case in point is War Poets. This outfit is comprised of no less than six songwriters; they’re even listed as such in the liner notes of Dulce et Decorum Est, rather than, y’know, bandmembers. Don’t be put off by the foreign-sounding title; this is some seriously accessible-yet-varied music, one of the most consistently engaging releases I’ve heard in some time. Moreover, it’s a 2cd set, divided into “Rock Songs” and “Ballads” (guess which disc I prefer.)

The JAC – Faux Pas
I make no apologies: I love powerpop, but I’m not an uncritical fan of the genre. Some of it’s near-transcendent, and some of it feels by-the-numbers. Though The Brittanicas get mostly positive critical notices, they don’t knock me out (don’t get me wrong: I don’t dislike ‘em a bit). But one half of that duo is Australian Joe Algeri, and he’s gone walkabout and crafted a solo set under the moniker The JAC. Faux Pas is a lovely collection of jangly, wheezy-organ, hooky rock pop of the first order. The opening track, “I Play All the Instruments” tells you all you need to know about The JAC, and does so in grinning, catchy style. Algeri has a number of stylistic tricks – bits of Italian lyrics, backward guitar and chiming Ricks – up his sleeve. As, too, is a bonus disc of covers that show the man’s peerless taste.

Ben Levin Group – Invisible Paradise
Subtlety and variation are the watchwords on this release. An unusual suite of songs, Invisible Paradise often leans strongly in an art-pop direction, but there are strong classical (chamber music) tones, some really aggressively hard-rocking passages, and definitely a strong whiff of progressive-rock mentality. But all of those disparate-on-paper elements are woven together into a thrilling joyride of an album. This is music that hits you squarely with a one-two punch, to both the head and heart. The soaring beauty of the arrangements is set against some stomping rock-centric playing. The whole damn thing runs the length of an old-school album (about 38 minutes) and it all tumbles together. If you like your music widescreen and melodramatic without being pretentious, you’ll dig this. Imagine Dixie Dregs crossed with Zappa and Opeth. Invisible Paradise is perhaps the best new thing of its kind in quite awhile. Track it down and enjoy.

Brian Lisik – The Mess that Money Could Buy
Imagine if John Mellecamp (they called him Johnny Cougar back when I saw him open for The Kinks) had a stronger pop sensibility, but held onto his mid-America lyrical vision. If that transformation took place, he might just change his name to Brian Lisik. A good-timin’ bunch of songs that owe as much to The Replacements as anything else, the songs on The Mess that Money Could Buy will appeal to those who like their rock friendly and accessible, full of singalong choruses and head-nodding beat with just the right amount of twang to keep things grounded. Lots of those chiming suspended guitar chords abound, and the rhythm changes up often enough to hold the listener’s interest at a high level through the record’s eleven songs. And – this is important – although it is credited to Brian Lisik, the album feels and sounds like the work of a band.

The Drysdales – Dakota
Who would have ever thought that when in Nashville for last fall’s Americana Music Association Conference and Festival, I’d bump into an online friend at a show (the Big Star tribute). But that’s exactly what happened: though songwriter Patrick Potts wasn’t there specifically for AMA, we met and shared an indeterminate number of beers. But that’s not why I’m here to tell you about Dakota, the new CD from his band The Drysdales. No, I mention it ’cause it’s good. Stonesy rock with a higher emphasis on dual-lead harmony vocals, The Drysdales sound like what Mick and his pals (circa 1972) might sound like if they showed up in your living room and played. Without the smack, of course. If you need more of a recommendation, consider two heavy friends who dropped in to help out on the record: Jon Brant (Cheap Trick) and Brad Elvis (Elvis Brothers / Handcuffs). Yeah.

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