One Adam Twelve Music Reviews
In 2004 a group of music fans got together and founded the music news and review site, oneadamtwelve.com. After only a few short months we realized our own brand of music journalism could not compete with the established players on the scene and folded up shop. The reviews I wrote for the site are archived here.
Franz Ferdinand – Franz Ferdinand
Sometimes when listening to an album I imagine it as the soundtrack to a film. In the case of Franz Ferdinand’s recent, self-titled release I imagine it as the soundtrack to one really long, really cool, Mitsubishi commercial, featuring a cast of beautiful, young people. The scene: a Glasgow bar peopled with auburn-haired girls sporting mascara-laden hazel eyes, and dark-haired, hipster-boys with skinny ties and skinnier waists. There’s lots of drinking, laughing, mysterious flirty glances, and plenty of overtly-sexual debauchery. All of it shot in customary slow-motion.
The major theme of the album is hedonism, in all its darkly delicious forms. It captures the essence of being young, single and on the prowl so well that even the oldest of listener will be taken back to their days on the meat market.
Don’t be turned off by the album’s singularity, this album, quite simply, rocks. Continuing in the vein of their post-punk brethren, once beyond the acoustical prelude of “Jacqueline”, the opening track, Franz Ferdinand relentlessly serves up the grooves to get your ass in motion. Don’t skip that first track entirely though, it possesses some of the wittier lyrical moments on the album, including rhyming “spectacle” with “wreck the girl.” It is this lyrical prowess, in play on nearly every track, that makes Franz Ferdinand stand out in the already over crowded garage-rock genre.
Other key tracks include the manic “Take me Out” which sums up everything the band stands for in one balls-to-the wall, pounding tale of waiting for a date, and “Dance with me Michael” a slightly homoerotic number in which lead singer Alex Kapranos, declares “This is what I am/ I am a man/ So come and dance with me Michael.”
With each listen Franz Ferdinand continues to shine and surprise on many different levels. I’m hoping the band sticks around long enough to grow into more of what is already a promising band.
Overall Rating 8.5
The Apparitions — Oxygen Think Tank
Spring is in the air, and with it comes this overwrought metaphor to describe the lead vocals on Oxygen Think Tank as a crosspollination of Eddie Vedder at his highest pitch, Dave Matthews, and those adorable lollipop kids from the Land of Oz. The mixing of sounds and styles doesn’t end there though, the music behind those strange but endearing vocals sounds like Better than Ezra covering a Satellite Heart-era Flaming Lips song. All of this makes for a catchy album with songs that you’ll find I your head long after the last track has gone quiet.
Fundamentally a pop-rock band, The Apparitions experiment with many different styles that slide in and out of each track. They achieve the minimalist guitar sound of the Pixies, overlay that with bits of noise ala the Flaming Lips, and set it all on the foundation of a grooving rhythm section. The lyrics, mostly non sequiturs, conjure up images of mind-control devices, a fear of conformity, and feelings of paranoia. These elements gel most perfectly on “Worker Bees,” a shining sun of a tune, featuring humming, drone-like guitars and hive imagery.
The only flaw is that I’m afraid the lyric, “Scared to turn it off/it might not come back on again,” from “Iron Idol” was taken to mean the recording equipment. Some of the songs end long after they should have. Other than that The Apparitions have managed to serve up a quirky piece of paranoid-pop.
For more information or to purchase the CD, visit www.wearetheapparitions.com
Overall Rating: 6.0
Yeah Yeah Yeahs — Fever To Tell
More than anything else the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ major-label debut, Fever to Tell makes me smile. Every time I submit myself to the album’s mix of art-punk and garage-rock experimentalism I’m reminded of why I write about music in the first place. I use the word submit simply because just listening to this record doesn’t do it justice.
The best thing about Fever to Tell is that there are so many things that work. Typically I’m not a big fan of art-punk, or whatever label is being currently used to describe bands cribbing from Sonic Youth’s songbook. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs differ from that earlier band, in that their sonic experiments tend to produce listenable results.
Every critic gushes over Karen O’s unworldly vocals, and believe me I will too. First though I’d like to give her band mates their due, as they are a vital key to the band’s success.
The first thing I noticed about this album was the drumming. Brian Chase’s bouncy, propulsive drumming style is so similar to Yuval Gabay’s seminal work with Soul Coughing that I actually had to check the liner notes to make sure it wasn’t Gabay. Chase is capable of moving from a four on the floor groove to a cymbal filled explosion of disco trash effortlessly and beautifully, often in the same song, as in “Date With the Night.”
Over the bed of rhythm laid forth by Chase, guitarist Nick Zinner sprinkles a tantalizing mix of guitar noodling and crunchy heavy-metal riffs. Zinner often sounds like he is playing among the sonic landscape created by his cohorts, at time mimicking O’s vocals or dueling with Chase’s pounding. At other times he leads the way, leaving them both behind with atmospheric chords that beg his band mates to catch up with him. The beautiful thing is they always do.
Now, as promised, those vocals. O’s singing is an eerie combination of orgasmic moaning, childlike yelps, and frightened whispers. This style works perfectly on tracks like the album opener “Rich” in which she seductively sings “I’m rich, like a hot noise,” before snarling “I’ll take you out boy.” One of the finest moments on Fever to Tell is during the chorus of “Pin” which consists solely of O singing along with the guitar, “Bomp Bomp Bomp Bomp Bomp Bomp Bomp Bomp Duhdon Duhdon Duhdon.” This manic style of singing permeates much of the album. However on the single “Maps,” currently in heavy rotation on MTV, we hear a different side of Miss O. On this track she is sensitive, sweetly singing “They don’t love you like I love you.” In fact she actually sings every lyric in this song, proving that she can sing if she wants to. But why would she?
The only flaw in this album is its sequencing. The first three tracks are all out rockers with pounding drums, big fuzzy guitars and the signature screeching vocals. After that though follows more experimental, quieter numbers. By the time you reach the final, hidden track O’s vocals are barely above a whisper. Better pacing and a better mix of the rockers and experimental tracks would have made the entire listening experience slightly more enjoyable.
Overall rating: 7.5
Kings of Leon — Youth And Young Manhood
Kings of Leon could easily be dismissed as a Southern-fried version of the Strokes, but that would be a great disservice. First of all a single track on their debut album Youth and Young Manhood features more sonic depth than the entire Strokes catalogue. Second of all the Strokes have never used a cowbell.
The band does however occupy a branch very near the Strokes on the newly planted Tree of Rock and Roll that may one day, once again, overshadow pop music. Meaning that there sound may be new to today’s listeners, but rock and roll veterans will discover nothing new.
Kings of Leon consists of the three brothers Followill and one cousin. The brothers are the son of an evangelical missionary, Leon Followill, the band’s namesake. While their father drug them across America the brothers listened to the Rolling Stones and Credence Clearwater Revival. These influences can be sharply heard on YAYM.
Matthew, the groups lead guitarist, is a talented musician and shines on nearly all of the album’s eleven tracks. On the opening number, “Red Morning Light,” he powers up the honky-tonk psychedelic engine that powers the record. His brother Caleb’s manic singing keeps the album moving, pausing only briefly for the relatively slow track, “Trani,” Caleb has a cartoonish voice, his Southern drawl making him sound at times like Elmer Fudd. At others he sounds like the Tasmanian Devil. Strange as that seems it works nicely against the backdrop of set forth by his band mates.
For all that the brothers (and cousin) do do well, nothing is ventured here. They stay well within the constraints put forth by many similar bands before them. As a purposefully Southern rock band though, they are among the finest.
Overall Rating: 7.0
Mellowdrone – A Demonstration of Intellectual Property[EP]
The songs on A Demonstration of Intellectual Property create the feeling of gently floating through the darkest corners of space hearing snippets of an alien orchestral arrangement bounced off of satellites. Each track features a dense layering of sounds that should lend themselves to chaos, but instead each song has been meticulously worked to achieve perfection. No sound, no matter how odd, seems out of place.
Mellowdrone is Jonathan Bates, who recorded the album on budget equipment in his home. His approach to songcraft is similar to that of early Beck or later Radiohead. The songs all feature some combination of sluggish, heavy guitar sonance, muttered vocals, precise drumming and ominous background noises.
Lyrically the album is sometimes humorous, but even then it is bleakness that dominates. While sad, depressed lyrics are so commonplace today that they have lost their ability to move the listener, here, within the sonic landscape that Bates has created, they regain their power.
If Intellectual Property has a weak spot it is that at times the songs are too low key. They often seem like lullabies designed to lull the listener into the dreamlike, apocalyptic world Bates so lovingly portrays in his music.
Overall Rating: None Given
Soul Coughing made its barely detected first blip on the musical radar in the mid-nineties while Grunge was reaching its peak. The band’s funk grooves, off-the-wall samples and stream of consciousness speak-singing practically demanded that you stripped off your flannel, stepped out from behind the wall of teen-angst and got your ass out on the dance floor. Described by Mike Doughty, the group’s frontman, as “deep slacker jazz,” the band stays loosely within Pop confines with sprinklings of Punk, White-boy Funk, and Hip Hop, creating a sound like nothing heard before or even sense. Soul Coughing recorded three albums during its short career, but accurately describing the sound still remains a near impossibility.
The cacophony of sound that is the band’s trademark usually inspires first-time listeners to do one of two things. After the first few songs, they’ll either want to rush back to the store, or more likely, the friend, from whom they got the CD and return it immediately or they’ll nod their head all the way through, and hit the repeat button a few thousand times until each note is burned into their memory banks.
”Is Chicago, is not Chicago,” the very first song on their first album, Ruby Vroom, lays the foundation for every Soul Coughing song to come. The funk groove supplied by upright-bassist Sebastian Steinberg and drummer Yuval Gabay will drive even the most conservative of listeners into an ass-shaking frenzy. In our post-Sept 11th world Doughty’s lyrics about a man who drives a plane into the Chrysler building may create a sense of dread, but in 1994 were just an example of the dark comedy that dominates the album. Besides, Doughty usually chose his lyrics in favor of their sonic qualities over meaning. While Mark de Gli Antoni’s sampling doesn’t make a huge appearance in this track, what is there lets the listener know what to expect for the remaining songs. De Gil Antoni really shines on the album’s fifth track, “Bus to Beelzebub.” The song begins with a sample of Raymond Scott’s “Powerhouse,” an orchestral piece featured in many Warner Bros. cartoons. The sample is cranked to a four on the floor beat that doesn’t let up for the entire 4:33. With lines such as “I absorb trust like a love rhombus/I feel I must elucidate/I ate the chump with guile,” Doughty achieves beautiful lyrical strangeness.
Although Soul Coughing were often labeled playful, and would aspire more closely to that on their later albums, Ruby Vroom has a very dark feel. Stroll through the places carved out by Doughty’s lyrics and you will find yourself in a city scarred with graffiti, stained with grease, covered in ash and crumbling at your feet. At one point in the song “Moon Sammy,” the lyrics are a direct quote from the book of Revelation, the ultimate treatise on apocalyptic doom and demise. The album isn’t without blissfully happy moments though. Both “Uh, Zoom Zip” and “Down to This” feature upbeat lyrics as well as sonic high jinks.
When it debuted the album served as a welcome antidote to grunge and its derivative cohorts. And although the later albums, Irresistible Bliss and El Oso would keep the skeleton of Ruby Vroom intact, neither would reclaim its ability to make each successive listening feel like something new every time.
Overall Rating: None Given
The early releases by the alt-country band, Old 97’s, were considerably more country than alt. And while their most recent album, Satellite Rides, rest snugly against the border between rock and pop, their 1997 major-label debut, Too Far To Care is a must own album featuring the band at its rip-roaring best.
The thirteen tracks on this disc are pure rockabilly, with an emphasis on the rock. “Time Bomb,” the opening track, features Ken Bethea’s twangy, surf melody guitar playing over a chugging locomotive beat of drums and bass that sets a precedent for most of the album. Bethea’s guitar work is an amalgation of Johnny Cash, Automatic for the People-era Peter Buck, and Dick Dale. The drumming of Philip Peeples and Murry Hammond’s (who also contributes backup and lead vocals) bass playing keep a slow and steady rhythm that hardly changes from song song, but their simplicity complement he songs perfectly.
The real draw for me on this album is the lyrics. The band’s frontman, Rhett Miller who plays guitar and writes most of the lyrics main focus is love, and love gone bad, but Miller’s clever way with words makes this collection of songs more than your average cheatin’, cryin’, leavin’ songs that are typical country music fare. In “Great Barrier Reef,” he sings, “What’s so great about the barrier reef/What’s so fine about art/What’s so good about a Good Times Van ™/When you’re working on a broken man?” Miller’s lyrics are often so clever, that, much like an episode of The Family Guy, repeated listening is needed to catch every nuance. In “Streets of Where I’m From,” in which learn that those streets are “paved with hearts instead of gold” Miller sings, “And I been had/well at least that’s how it looks/And it’s not funny like on TV/and it’s not smart like it is in books.” The nicest thing about Miller’s lyrics is that often he can fool the listener. Those of us who have been listening to any type of music long enough can often predict what the next lyric in a song will be, even if we’ve never heard the song before. When Miller sings “On a mountainside well below the stars” in “Curtain Calls” no one could expect to hear the line that follows: “You keep your lover’s eyes in a mason jar.”
This lyrical witticism, combined with the band’s ability to back it with a sound that flows from barn burner rock to melodious country pop and back again, make Too Far To Care the perfect fit for every record collection.
Overall Rating: None Given