Songs of a Lost World

 

The Cure

Songs of a Lost World

(Fiction/Capitol)

My introduction to The Cure was around 40 years ago with their jaunty single “The Lovecats.”  I absolutely cannot describe how big that song was in helping determine my musical journey as a teenager.  Never had I heard a song so exuberant.  There was unbelievable feeling inside those three and a half minutes in such a silly little pop song.  There was a distinct noticeable passion, a sense of free experimentation, and an uncanny tunefulness that captured my heart.  I couldn’t stop listening to it.  This led me to seek out more and I learned how different they were before that song.  That passion was always there no matter if we’re talking about their earliest spiky garage punk, or their mysterious sparse post-punk, or the bleak, unrelenting darkness of Pornography, to the synth-pop of that time I first heard them.  The Cure paved their own varied path and even in their lesser moments (in my opinion) have always been intriguing and worth notice.  Their long and storied discography is varied, exciting and refreshing. 

Here we are with a new album, Songs from a Lost World, sixteen years after 2008’s 4:13 Dream.  To be honest, I haven’t been very engaged with their output since 1992’s Wish and even that one took me awhile to fully appreciate.  I think a big part of it is that I had changed my tastes away from those early teenage years – not that I didn’t listen to the hell out of their post Disintegration releases, because I still felt Robert Smith’s path and how he has never phoned in a record.  He has staunchly continued to be wildly creative, varied, unceasingly heartfelt, and authentic..  

When Songs of a Lost World finally showed up, after years of leaks, and live performances of some of these new songs, I was excited like I was as a kid anticipating the release date of Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me in 1987 as a 16 year old – snagging a random ride to the nearest town that might have a record store that would offer a copy.  On the actual release date of Lost World on November 1^st, before I ventured out to the local record shop, I was surprised at the immediate social media nitpicking of the record.  Everyone’s opinions are welcome and at least as valid as mine, yet I wonder why so many were so immediately critical.  Why listen to it once and complain about the long intros before Robert Smith’s vocals come in.  Have they actually ever listened to The Cure?!  It’s been a staple for years!! Having said that, my early critique is that the mix is too compressed and in your face.  I think I’d prefer for the sound to be more dynamic, allowing the brilliant arrangements to rise and fall, though through endless repeated listens it has started to expand for me and reveal more subtleties. 

Robert Smith had a huge influence on not just my musical tastes, but also introducing me to an unhealthy fear of aging.  As a 14 year old, I would listen to The Head on the Door’s timeless ode to growing old “Sinking” like an old man fearing his oncoming and inevitable death.  The day I turned 22, I told a 15 year old kid I occasionally worked with that I was “over the hill.”  Now, close to 40 years later, this album has connected in a similar way, as a realistic sense of mortality has crept into my life.  Smith’s lyrics on this album are as incisive as he’s ever been.  There’s a laser like focus of someone obsessed with finding a way to navigate the fear of death as decay sets in.  This has hit home for me, in a similar way the Cure first began guiding me through my formative tears.  Every song feels both tragic, yet redemptive and exciting.  So many of those ancient Cure songs helped a lot of us along with relatable songs, while offering a lot of amazing tunes and commiseration.  Words that can be comforting and help us not feel so alone. 

“Alone,” the first song and single is a sad lament about the finality of death.  It is so heartbreakingly relatable, yet woven inside a catchy meditative tune that repeats the line “where did it go” refrain with a genuine worry.  The orchestrations of the aging love ballad “Nothing Lasts Forever” makes me think of a senior prom slow dance only aimed at a roomful of people who no longer feel safe going out after dark.  Meanwhile, “A Fragile Thing” sounds a lot like one of those great album tracks that may not attract attention initially but eventually becomes the favorite over time that the Cure are so adept at creating.

“War Song” comes on incredibly heavy the way “The Kiss” did with Smith’s distinctive wailing unsettled guitar easily describing the conflict long before the bitter lyrics hit.  “Drone: No Drone” is an in your face grinder that flows with a groovy classic Simon Gallup bassline and a great Smith vocal chorus that lands somewhere between “Hot Hot Hot!!!” and “Burn.”  

Overall, Songs of a Lost World, reminds me of Disintegration (1989).  Back then, many of us thought that that album was going to be the Cure’s final album, but this feels like the perfect follow up.  “I Can Never Say Goodbye” hints at “Prayers for Rain,” while referencing the orchestration and the less resigned side of “And Nothing is Forever.”  The penultimate song “All I Ever Am” begins with a warbled keyboard hook before pounding into an urgent refection of past mistakes and regrets.  Would anything have mattered?  The closing “Endsong” is an epic in every way, but the long opening builds and builds much the way “Closedown” did in 1989, as it leads into a truly sad lament about losing everything.  All the work we do in life.  All of the goals, the dreams, the successes, all lead to “Nothing” in the end.  Perhaps it’s just me, but in “Endsong,”Smith sounds less hurt than the opening “Alone.” It’s as if he has guided us toward more acceptance along the way through these eight numbers.  It’s an incredibly intense song that pulls no punches.  It may sound strange, but such a direct sad song is inspiring to me.  The sadness is truly felt, in the way that The Cure have always delivered the gamut of emotions in such a genuine way.  The directness and harsh reality of the words, help in addressing my own feelings regarding death, amongst many other realities. 

Welcome back to The Cure!  This album is excellent in so many ways.  Songs of a Lost World is exactly the balm I needed in these strange, uncertain, and confusing times.  As I continue to read various complaints about this album, I can’t help but wonder if a fairly new band put out an album of this quality, how many would be drooling over it as the landmark great release of our time?  Personally, I hope that this is an album I will hungrily listen to for a long time to come.  Leave it to the Cure who initially inspired a passion in me for seeking out truly honest music that confronts a lot of those emotions many of us fear to come along and chisel away the hardened coating that has grown around my heart through a lot of experience.

(https://www.thecure.com/)

The Cure "Alone"

Go On

 

The Blue Herons

Go On

(Subjangle)

This is the debut album from The Blue Herons, but it doesn’t seem like it.  The songs on Go On have all appeared as digital singles over the past few years.  The project originally started out as a vehicle for master instrumentalist, Andy Jossi, to showcase his love of jangle guitar pop.  Jossi originally started recording and releasing instrumental songs before reaching out to various vocalists to help him “complete” them.  I put “complete” in quotes, because Jossi’s wonderfully detailed music is incredibly dramatic and absolutely great without the addition of vocals.  During that weird year of 2020, The Blue Herons released the single “In the Skies,” with Gretchen DeVault seamlessly adding lyrics and vocals.  If you’ve bothered to read these silly music missives I occasionally write, you may recognize DeVault’s name. These two have teamed up for ten more fantastic singles since.  I became a supporter of Gretchen’s music going back to when I first heard the 2004 song “I Wanna Know” by her band The Icicles – an incredibly refreshing pop song that evokes the fun teenage love songs by 60s girl groups.  Subsequently, DeVault has explored different sounds through other outlets such as the melancholic dream pop of Voluptuous Panic, and the pristine indie pop of The Francine Odysseys, as well as adding her fantastic vocals to the fun Hero No Hero project before settling in as a full-time collaborator with Andy Jossi and The Blue Herons.

In this new era of digital singles and artist’s having more direct contact with their followers, first albums like this are likely to become the norm.  In the past, a ‘best of’ or singles collection might come out after an artist has reached a certain level of tenure and/or popularity, but this debut album is already a singles collection and it plays like one.  Every single song is incredibly addictive and beg for excited repeated listens.  Jossi’s other fairly well known project, The Churchhill Garden, with Whimsical vocalist Krissy Vanderwoude, finds him creating incredible extended dreamy vistas that build and build in intensity and volume like the Kitchens of Distinction used to do with regularity.  The Blue Herons, on the other hand, have a more straight forward sound that, while still dreamy, has more in common with the more upbeat songs by the 80s line up of The Church with the added strength of Gretchen’s spectacular vocal melodies.

I want to highlight particular songs, but it’s difficult because all of these songs have been favorites as they’ve been released over the past four years.  I think “Talking to Ghosts,” however, is the cream of an especially bountiful crop.  Jossi channels a Johnny Marr-esque arrangement and the dynamic orchestral chorus is absolutely stunning, as are DeVault’s vocals.  Of course, there is also the more driving and urgent “Autumn Leaves,” whose life affirming chorus is downright invigorating and motivational.  Surprisingly, The Blue Herons took on a cover of Joy Division’s all-timer “Disorder.”  At a glance, this might seem an odd choice, or a mismatch, but I can assure you, as a massive Joy Division fan, I find this to be the best cover I’ve heard.  Gone are the harsh shards of sounds atop the dark echoing rumbles of the original, but added is a different kind of urgency and warmth.  The approach is different, yet the end result is similar in that as a listener you’ve been taken on an epic adventure.  Plus I absolutely love the buzzing close and wish that it didn’t fade out.

Though most of these songs were released as singles prior to the album, there is added value in checking this out, because here the songs have been worked on – enhanced, plus there is a great alternate version of the yearning “Echoes in the Dust.”  If you have not checked The Blue Herons out previously, this is not only the perfect place to start, I would say it’s mandatory.

(https://theblueherons1.bandcamp.com/album/go-on)

the blue herons "talking to ghosts"

Stab!

 

Stab!

(VÅRØ/Kanine)

Sweden’s Agent blå blend a unique brand of post-punk.  Their sound reminds me of those early 80s pioneering post-punk artists in spirit, yet with their own take.  It’s a difficult sound to pin down, but I sure love trying as I’ve been playing their third LP, Stab!, a ton since its release back in April – nearly five full years after their second full length back in 2019.  Emelie Alatalo’s versatile and mysterious vocals are once again rich and endlessly intriguing – landing somewhere between Isabel Monteiro (Drugstore) and the legendary Siouxsie Sioux and I have been trying to come up with a way to describe this album in order to find a way to express my enthusiasm and do it any kind of justice. 

 

From the brief opening self-titled instrumental that merges into the beautifully meandering “Ebb and Flow,” one thing is clear the band has been honing their craft.  The rhythm section has retained their special connection by coming up with tension building push and pull arrangements that definitely ebb and flow, but now there’s a lot of stellar piano melodies guiding these songs in a similar way as the early Tears for Fears albums. 

 

Normally I am allergic to using very specific genre categorizations of bands, because of artists like this.  They are conjuring up something that feels different to me.  Unique.  “The Fascination of Self-Sabotage” lifts off with soaring guitars like an early 80s UK post-punk band, while “Mind Mapping” gives off a Goth vibe with its vague lyrics alluding to some kind of separation and its resulting consequences.  Whatever the case, it’s my favorite on an album that continues to impress and grow on me.

 

 So much to love here.  The propulsive drive and whirlee keyboard sound of “Discount” acts as a straight-forward tune with a very ghostly atmosphere, while “Whatever You Want” might be their poppiest song to date as it tries to work out intimate communication details over a buoyant beat.

 

As I imagined, I’m failing to do a workable job at conveying the power of this album.  It is all too brief, it’s well crafted, and dare I say underrated?  These are the kind of songs that have always fed my soul.  The kind of songs that guide one through rainy days that exacerbate troubling times, yet offer understanding.  The words are supportive and the music comforting by way of that understanding.  Instead of continuing to ramble on aimlessly, I will be direct.  I highly recommend Stab! Allow it a chance to work its magic.

 

(https://agentblasweden.bandcamp.com/album/stab)

Agent bla "Discount"

the morning papers have given us the vapours

 

The Black Watch

the morning papers have given us the vapours

(Dell’Orso) 

The black watch released two albums in short succession this year and both are worth an investment.  The morning papers have given us the vapours was the first and is the more traditional release – full of their unique smart indie pop that seems to come from a limitless well.  The other album, weird rooms, is also excellent, but it’s the morning papers that has given me the vapors (sorry).  John Andrew Fredrick has guided this band for a long time, and I was lucky enough to join the entertaining ride ever since I bought one of their early 7” singles simply because it had a picture of Natalie Wood on the cover back in 1993.  All these years later, I still love the 80s era Church/Cure/Go-Betweens vibe that they produce. 

 

I’m not eloquent enough to explain in any interesting way why the black watch are so appealing, except to say that they feel like a longtime friend.  From that first chance listen, I found their songs addictive in the best way.  By that I mean, they fit neatly into my palette sonically, and are always thought-provoking lyrically and most importantly, I want to hear their songs again and again.  Some more than others.  The past six years have found them, in my estimation, on a hot streak.  A wider variety of sounds has crept in, along with more female vocals and string arrangements, which remind more of their incredible early releases.

Speaking of which, the pre-LP single (included here) “oh, do shut up,” is sung by Kesha Rose and is a perfect kiss off to any narcissist that might be making you feel bad about yourself.  It’s one of the best songs of the year and it feels so damn satisfying.  Not to be confused with their 2021 LP here and there, “there & here” is another buzzing great!  Actually, there’s not a weak moment here.  The matching guitar melody with some “doo-doo-da-doos” are alluring on the opening “new brooms sweep clean,” “sorry so far” sounds like a highlight from a Grant McLennan album, and who can ignore the pop perfection of “more lies from the government.”  “The morning papers” closes the album with a wonderful frantic strummer that is urgent, bitter and fun as hell to sneer/sing-a-long with. 

I can honestly say that in 1993 I did not look ahead and ponder what I’d be doing thirty years later, but unsurprisingly, I still look longingly at pictures of Natalie Wood when I encounter one, and listen to the black watch.  I’m okay with that.

(https://theblackwatch.bandcamp.com/)

 

 

the black watch "oh do shut up"

 

Here

Mammoth Penguins

Here

(Fika Recordings)

I have an incredible fondness in general for rock trios.  So many of my favorite bands over the years have been trios.  There’s an economy and cleanliness in the arrangements that appeals to me.  Personally, I find bandleader Emma Kupa’s best work has been in this format.  It’s not just the wonderfully straight forward arrangements, which are immaculately captured here.  Everything sounds so clean and fresh that it feels live.  It’s not just the music though, Kupa’s lyrics are so relatable that listening to an entire album feels like reading an especially deep letter from a treasured lifelong friend.

“It seems I have to learn everything the hard way” Kupa sings on the incredible crunching opening “Species.”  She sings with such a precise honesty that it’s refreshing and so relatable.  It’s a trick.  It’s what I’d love to pull off with my own writing here, so I am envious and greatly admire it when I come across it.  These songs unveil themselves as a journey to self-discovery.  While the previous LP mined emotions around an especially unwanted end to a relationship, Here finds telling missives about finding satisfaction.  “Flyers” is a direct commentary on being in a little known band.  Kupa’s frustration with pouring her heart out, all while playing shows to no audience, sleeping in vans, and storing triple XL Tee shirts under her bed (this XXXL monster would like a deal!).  I think anyone who has done anything creative that they try to share with the world can relate.  It doesn’t take long to realize that “no one cares at all.” (“Blue Plaque”).  We are all wrapped up in our own worlds.  Stuff that feels monumental to us when shared isn’t a priority to anyone else out there.  That’s how it can often feel.  It’s not necessarily true, which is the direction we’re led to as the album wears on.  The effort can be worth it.  It’s not easy.  What is the cliché?  The grass isn’t always greener.  As humans, we are always in some sort of transition.

Here finds solace in living in and appreciating the moment and the things that are positive in life, and realizing that the difficult parts can be a part of that too.  Kupa sings “fuck success / fuck expectation” with a well-worn voice of experience and acceptance, as opposed to a reactionary bitterness. 

The thing is that the Mammoth Penguins write fantastic rock songs.  I love turning these songs up really loud, air guitaring all of the power chords, punctuating verses with cymbal splashes (air cymbals), and belting out the vocals along with Kupa’s earnest voice.  These tracks are fun and catchy and, yes, remarkably personable. 

(https://fikarecordings.bandcamp.com/album/here)

Mammoth Penguins "Species"

 

Basilisk

 

J. Robbins

Basilisk

(Dischord)

 For those unaware, J. Robbins was the vocalist/guitarist of two fantastic punk/post-punk bands from the 90s: Jawbox and Burning Airlines.  I am a huge fan of Jawbox especially.  Their 1991 debut album, Grippe, was without a doubt, one of those game-changing albums for me, because it opened up an entirely new world of US based punk rock for me.  By that point, I was fairly well versed with the legendary bands, but they were mostly in the past.  Jawbox was fresh, new, and energetic. 

Apparently, Basilisk is J. Robbins’ second solo album, so I will have to go back and check that out, but only after I encourage people to check out and give this album serious consideration.  Robbins did not fall completely off of my music radar, as I have admired his very clean production work over the past too many years, such as Jets to Brazil’s incredible Orange Rhyming Dictionary, The Promise Ring’s Very Emergency, and more recently in my collection, Thrushes’ Exposing Seas.  It’s been over twenty years since I’ve heard Robbins’ voice, and it may sound goofy, but hearing him sing again froze me in time.  It was incredibly welcome and amazing how he sounds exactly the same to me.  It’s like running into an old friend after many years and finding out that you’re both still the goofy dorks you were originally and still get along.  In this case, I’m a fan of his jaggedly infectious post punk. 

If you were a fan of his former bands, you will surely love this.  Robbins’ songwriting here is tight throughout, as are the performances with the rhythm section he has assembled (bass: Brooks Harlan drums: Darren Zentek), and check out the fiery hot guitar lead from legendary Chicago punk John Haggarty from Naked Raygun and Pegboy on the menacing opening “Automacity.”  “Last War” is a thoughtful look into the idea of not evolving with change, but instead fighting against all of it, and you know what?  It’s also fun to sing along with.  “Exquisite Corpse” is the highlight of highlights for me.  Its energy and sound remind me most of those great Jawbox songs, and is relentlessly catchy.  Robbins addresses the continuing damaging pollution issue on the stuttering “Gasoline Rainbow” mostly via striking imagery, but the verse of “and what good / is the word / of a God / who won’t return / til everything has burned” should strike a note with certain climate change deniers.  Probably not.  Elsewhere “A Ray of Sunlight” sounds like it could be fitted neatly into a Bob Mould album, with its tuneful buzz and those drum fills bridging into the chorus.  It makes perfect sense why Robbins has been invited to open for Mould.  There are some interesting electronic flourishes here and there, but none of it distracts from the mighty focus of the songwriting throughout. 

Learning of this album has been a fantastic and refreshing surprise.  I had assumed that J. Robbins had given up performance, and yet here he is as vital as ever.

(https://jrobbins.bandcamp.com/album/basilisk)

J Robbins "Exquisite Corpse"

Retriever

 

Attic Ocean

Retriever

(Digital)

Retriever is a five song EP from German five-piece Attic Ocean.  It is their second EP, and you know what?  They have figured it all out!  Each of these five songs evoke different sounds, yet this is a tight unified whole. I can’t imagine breaking these songs apart from their running order, so it feels best to listen to it in its entirety instead of picking individual songs.  Each song has been a favorite since its release in October.

“Young Again” opens this all too brief set with a shot of electricity charged by a driving bassline, and a dreamy sounding guitar lead that evokes “The Cutter” by Echo and the Bunnymen.  Hannin Nasirat’s urgent vocals along with the vibrant instrumentation drawing similarities to the best songs from Spain’s incredible Linda Guilala.  “Young Again” is so aptly titled, because it brims with an inescapable energy that is a powerful narcotic.   This is one of the biggest joys in seeking out and discovering new music. 

Next up, is the huge sounding “Lilies and Sea” that uses its heavy wall of guitar fuzz to bolster the chorus, reminding of some of the best 90s indie by utilizing that era’s LOUDquietLOUD drama.  Hannin’s hushed vocals, and the stratospheric twin guitars of Niels Baumgarten and Maximilian Swierczynski hint at Slowdive’s style of shoegaze, while the galloping drums from Lukas Moore, along with the huge sounding chorus that hints at Lanterns on the Lake at their most anthemic. 

“Glow” provides us with a jangly spirally hook that reminds of Velocity Girl’s “My Forgotten Favorite” as channeled through the cranberries’ third album To the Faithful Departed.  “Glow” is an unabashed pop song with a cyclical vibe and a gushing haze of atmosphere.

The penultimate “Sleepless” thumps along with strong snarling guitars and serious grinding bass from Philip Marx providing a heaviness the previous songs don’t share.  Moore sounds like he’s trying to break his snare and bass drums, along with his splash cymbals.  It’s a glorious song that smashes through its three minutes and is an unexpected change up. 

The closing “Weeks into Years” is another example of this band’s strong songwriting talents.  It sounds timeless and immediately familiar.  I swear it sounds like something I can’t quite put my finger on (ideas are welcome), but it doesn’t matter because it’s absolutely glorious.  The soaring whirr of reverb highlighting the bridges, the Rachel Goswell-esque “oohs” from Chaperhouse’s brilliant “Pearl,” and Marx’s extremely tightly stretched bass strings pluck out a danceable groove, which all combine for a song that begs for repeated listens. 

If you’re not certain from what I’ve written here, this EP is astounding!  I highly recommend checking them out.  This EP initially hit me in a similar way that Australia’s Fragile Animals did with their debut LP last year.  Songs with emotional depth, musical drama, and catchy hooks.  What could be better? 

(https://atticocean.bandcamp.com/album/retriever)

Attic Ocean "Lilies and Sea"

Every Heaven

 

Humdrum

Every Heaven

(Slumberland) 

The debut album, Every Heaven, from Chicago’s Humdrum is an indie pop dream come true.  To get the easiest comparisons out of the way, if you were a fan of the band Star Tropics, who existed throughout the twenty-teens, yet only managed one full length LP, the incredibly infectious Lost World (Shelflife Records, 2017), the precursor and required listening for Humdrum, as bandleader/songwriter Loren Vanderbilt is the man behind both of these projects.  In other words, if you loved Lost World, you will undoubtedly love Every Heaven,  

Other comparisons and influences could be the entirety of the Sarah Records catalogue (1987-1995, 100 releases), or more specifically The Field Mice and their indie pop singles like “September’s Not so Far Away” as channeled through the jangles of early R.E.M. and the straightforward urgent bass lines of The Railway Children.  I also keep thinking of the version of The Jesus and Mary Chain’s re-take of “The Hardest Walk” from the Some Kind of Wonderful movie soundtrack.  This album is on the Slumberland Record label as well, so that alone is both an influence and a stamp of high quality.

There’s a dreamy sentimentality to these songs that creates a wonderful nostalgia for naïve times in our lives when our emotions are especially dramatic and unjaded by life’s experience.  It’s so refreshing and familiar that there’s no way to not feel comfortable and at home listening to Every Heaven.

The title track is a brief instrumental opener with a pounding drum machine and an ever ascending exploratory feel that ends with a woman’s voice saying “What is it about this place?  It’s like another world” before segueing  into the very Field Mice-like “There and Back Again,” (another Sarah reference?) which is so unbelievably catchy that it’s kind of unfair.  Loren’s vocals are friendly and humble sounding with a hint of emotion and maybe a dose of impatience or excited anticipation.  The thing is that the next song “Superbloom” is every bit as addictive, as well as “Wave Goodbye,” with its cascading guitars and its spectacular bridge and chorus.  I don’t know who does the backing vocals, but when they appear the harmonies are fantastic! 

Side two does not let up at all, as “See Through You” surges with great energy and another perfect chorus, “Eternal Blue” evokes the greatness of The Cure’s timeless 1987 single “Just Like Heaven” (that keyboard!).  Most of these songs are upbeat and exciting.  The lower tempo songs add a nice dynamic, and more of those yearning keyboards that transport one to somewhere “a million miles away,” as repeated in “Ultraviolet.”

Every Heaven is an album that I cannot stop listening to.  It feels like I’ve been listening to these songs all of my life and the songs always feel like a soothing balm to any kind of ills.  Like visiting with a longtime friend.  The kind of friend one can relate to no matter the passage of time.. 

(https://heyhumdrum.bandcamp.com/album/every-heaven)

 

Humdrum "There and Back Again"

 

Reflections

 

Bright Like Stars

Reflections

(self released)

Well, this is a revelation.  I come to this by being a fan of Neil Burkdoll’s instrumental work with the fantastic band Whimsical.  I’ve long admired the dream pop vistas he has created with singer/songwriter Krissy Vanderwoude, and especially how his music has progressively improved through the years.  In a similar long distance songwriting style, Burkdoll has joined forces with Craig Douglas (from bands Neonach and Omega Vague – though I’ve never heard of either) to conjure up a varied collection of heavy alternative guitar rock.  I use the term “alternative,” because these songs kind of remind me of listening to those mid 90s “alternative rock” radio stations when they exploded onto the scene. 

These songs invoke the spirit of the sounds of a bunch of those bands, but not any particular one.  Each song is different in a way that listening to a variety of different bands on a radio station might be, and honestly, each song is varied within.  I’ll admit that there is a mild sense of nostalgia for this old fart while listening to the aptly titled Reflections, but not in a direct way.  These songs are completely all their own.  Douglas’s vocals do remind me a bit of a meeting point between Perry Farrell and Alice in Chains’ Layne Staley, while Burkdoll’s music runs the gamut from the My Bloody Valentine buzzing howls of the first single “Reeling” (available now) to a few tastefully well placed guitar solos.

While there are some heavy moments that recall Gish – era Smashing Pumpkins, such as the opening “Ever Fading,”  “The Healing,” and the powerhouse “The End,” there are uptempo numbers as well, like the dreamy vocals on top of a Bad Religion drum beat, along with several crunchy/catchy pop tunes like “Star Dust,” “The Less You know,” and both the album closer and my early favorite song “On the Other Side,” with its soaring chorus.

There’s a freshness to Reflections that reminds me of the first time I hear DC band Shudder to Think way back in 1991.  It checks a lot of boxes, feels comfortable and familiar, yet wholly new.  It feels like these guys were inspired and had fun creating these songs, and its infectious.  Plus this is a "Name Your Own Price" release on Band camp!  Check it out when it relases on November 29th, it's definitely worth your time.

(https://brightlikestars.bandcamp.com/album/reflections)

Whichever Way the Wind Blows

Last summer I was introduced to reruns of a show from the early 90s named Tropical Heat, or as it was known in the US, Sweating Bullets – a part of Crimetime After Primetime *.  It was a basic private detective TV show set in on a fictional Florida Key, kind of a Rockford Files updated for the 90s.  I had not previously heard of it.  It took me several episodes to warm to it.  The show was a low budget affair that recycled a lot of actors that are often cringe worthy.  It was clearly a vehicle for fist fighting action and bikini clad women and the shirtless hero, Nick Slaughter, in sunny tropical beach environs.  I became obsessed.  When I first heard the terrible, reggae-lite theme song, all of my sensibilities rejected it, but soon enough, I began watching the opening of the show regularly on YouTube just to listen to the song.

 

Strangely I began to feel wistful while watching these subpar episodes of a show that I couldn’t find anyone who had ever even heard of before.  It reminded me of my late high school years, when I had mostly given up sleep and would find myself getting weepy over a silly plot from The Patty Duke Show at 3AM.  I tried chalking it up to spending too much time alone, but this felt deeper.  I began to feel an emotional attachment to all of it – the main characters, the environment, that awful theme - rivalling long lost happy memories, as one might reflect on a summer fling from a teenage week spent at a fun away camp – déjà vu. 

 All of this felt wrong to me.  Why?  Why was this stupid show getting to me?  Eventually, it dawned on me that I have a history of highly rating superfluous TV shows and movies.  Like the aforementioned Patty Duke Show.  The movie I’ve seen more than any other is the late 70s Chevy Chase/Goldie Hawn vehicle Foul Play, though the original Fletch is a close second.  For years I have claimed that Ski School and its odd sequel, Ski School 2, are my favorite movies ever.  I’ve always said this with a sardonic tongue in my cheek, but knowing full well that I’d rather watch those than a universally acknowledged masterpieces. 

The answer I’ve come up with is that many of these characters, like the misfit ski school hero gang Section 8, Fletch, and Nick Slaughter are all wise cracking goofballs who say and do what they want – consequences be damned.  Of course they all have hearts of gold, but it’s the chaos they create with their honesty and combination of no bullshit and lack of concern for serious consequences that I find so appealing.  In Ski School, the thesis statement of the movie is: “in order to succeed you must lose your mind.”  Rumor has it that there may not have been a script, which would surprise no one who has seen the movie. 

I have lived my life following rules.  I’ve always been wound pretty tight.  One time my friend Wil convinced me to hop the commuter train for a few stops without paying the fare, and the entirety of the trip (<10 minutes), I was sweaty, itchy, and terrified.  Towards the end of our journey a pair of security guards boarded the train and my anxiety about being caught pushed me into a full on panic attack.  I didn’t get drunk or high growing up – not out of any kind of moral or health stance, but for fear of losing control.  This must be why characters who throw caution to the wind have such an appeal for me.  I’m not talking thrill seeking behavior, like skydiving or what not, I’m talking about those who challenge authority, when authority is in the way of justice - whatever that means. 

Don’t get me wrong, I am fully aware that these shows and movies I’m referencing are very of their time and incredibly unrealistic.  There can be an uncomfortable level of misogyny, lack of diversity, and of course a prevailing white male privilege – I mean, only a white guy could get away with being such a wise-ass malcontent to the police or any authority and avoid any consequences right?  Newspaper reporter Fletch broke all of the rules AND essentially gives the middle finger to the police chief, Nick Slaughter regularly mocks the local police, the mischief making misfits from Ski School constantly play cruel pranks on essentially everyone and when confronted with possible retribution, simply double down and intensify their wacky pranks and beer consumption.  The only threatened reprimand for their misdeeds is that their skiing privileges will be taken way, so the inevitable conclusion is: “They can’t stop us from partying, so they can’t stop us from skiing.”  I’m also aware that these ridiculous characters would be frustrating in real life.  Whatever charm they may have would burn away the instant that they get you involved in some kind of horrific street fight, or worse. 

After slowly working my way through watching the entirety of the show Tropical Heat, I learned that there had been a documentary made in 2012 named Slaughter Nick for President, which chronicles lead actor Rob Stewart’s visit to Serbia fifteen years after the show’s demise.  Apparently, this show had developed a cult popularity in Serbia during the 1990s civil war in the former Yugoslavia.  It seems that the sunny environs and freewheeling, yet doggedly loyal, lead character, Nick Slaughter, resonated with some of the populace in amongst that country’s darkest days.  I think I managed to tap into this strange idealism in some small way. 

 

Recognizing that I have had a buttoned up fascination with the idea of being more of a risk taker has been valuable.  At this stage of my life, I’ve grown to be content with who I am to a certain level.  I do not want to push the envelope too far and suffer very real consequences from stupid actions – I never have – but now I refuse to feel regret over risks not taken.  Perhaps I can simply enjoy watching these goofy shows, enjoy watching the freedom that these fictional characters exhibit, and do my best to take small leaps every once in a while. 

My refusal to stream movies and be involved with all of the high quality television available today frustrates a lot of people.  I clearly watch way too much TV, but I have little patience for getting involved with something that demands time and attention.  I like my rabbit ears sketchily picking up broadcast channels mostly airing old family friendly reruns and other formulaic shows.  If I can watch Tropical Heat reruns on channel 29.4 most evenings and daydream about being a reckless hero, then you know what?  I’m good with that. 

 

 

 

 

* 

·        In 1991, the CBS television network had abandoned their many failed attempts at competing with NBC’s late night talk show dominance against Johnny Carson’s The Tonight Show with similar talk shows hosted by a variety of celebrities.  Instead, they began filling that post late local news programming slot with a bunch of “edgy” hour long crime dramas that they advertised as Crimetime After Primetime.  Other than seeing the occasional promotion for these shows, I never bothered to watch any of them.  They were all unceremoniously canceled after a couple of years, as soon as CBS scored a deal with David Letterman to host a talk show against the Tonight Show.  The only show (I think) that survived was the colorful and titillating cop procedural Silk Stalkings, which moved to the cable channel USA and thrived throughout the entirety of the 90s.  At any rate, back then, I became obsessed with the idea of Crimetime After Primetime and would find any excuse to say it in my best gravelly  and deep announcer voice.  I have a strange memory of practicing the voice alone in a public restroom with especially interesting acoustics and emerging to a couple of mystified onlookers.

 

Ultracopacetic

 

Velocity Girl

Ultracopacetic

(SubPop)

In an attempt to look back to the early 90s without revisionist goggles, I am remembering that with their bright and exciting 7” singles, Velocity Girl had become a favorite band and a reliable go to. I’m pretty sure that I had mail ordered all of their singles as they came out and even splurged to collect their Slumberland Records pillow case.  Once I learned that they were signed to the Pacific Northwest’s own Sub Pop records, I remember being pretty excited.  Strange that I cannot remember how I learned of this information.  I mean nowadays, it’s difficult to not know about the dealings of any music artist one follows, but back then, how did we access this news?  It’s like that strange realization that I used to be able to find various locales, unassisted, just by glancing at an address.  These days, I feel lucky to find the outside without navigation.  At any rate, once Velocity Girl’s debut album, Copacetic, arrived in 1993, it failed to make the expected impact.  Don’t get me wrong, I liked it, but for reasons I could not fully grasp, it didn’t land the same way as their prior work.  The singles, like “Crazy Town” with its undeniably infectious chorus, the cowbell-laden “Pop Loser,” and the rush of “Audrey’s Eyes” are all VG classics.  I’m certain that my attentions, experiences, mild variations in taste, and mood during this time contributed to my lackluster reception and I’m sorry to say that my broken jewel-cased copy got shelved rather rapidly.

 

As a collector of music, I am one of those frustrating (frustrated?) nerds who has fallen into the trap of spending all of my earnings (and more) on every possible release a favorite band or greedy record label presents.  We’re talking those 90s era UK import singles that would include a double CD single (sold separately, though one might have a collector’s case), a 7”, 10”, and 12” single – all with unique B-sides.  Then there are the box sets, best of collections, reissues, and anniversary editions (am I painting a vulgar enough picture yet?) that I would be enticed to collect because there is supposed to be a previously unreleased demo dangling like a carrot there-in.  Like a recovering addict, over the past twenty or so years, I’ve tried incredibly hard to refrain from continuing to fall prey to these urges.

It was with a bit of skepticism that I approached the release of a remixed and remastered version of Copacetic, and yet here it is and here I am whole-heartedly recommending it.  As I said before, there is nothing wrong with the original version, and it is still going to remain intact as is, but the absolute no frills original did not fully capture the special essence of Velocity Girl’s strengths.  One might wonder if, because of the time period where “selling out” was quite possibly the biggest possible sin and career killer in indie music, that the original mix was so dry and frankly uncommercial.  It did not present the warm glow of their catchy melodies, and it smoothed over their dramatic noise dynamics.  Thirty years later, band member, Archie Moore, has remixed the LP and seamlessly adjusted the mix, and it is now the album that I had always wanted!

These subtle changes are evident immediately.  The songs sound like they have more room to breathe.  The powerhouse opener, “Pretty Sister” feels more dynamic with its alternating feedback-laden foot stomping jams and Sarah Shannon’s vocals, which are mildly pushed more upfront throughout.  The title track was always a standout, but here it’s a revelation, while the prior murky “A Chang” has been transformed into an oddly complex juxtaposition between 80s Midwest/DC postpunk and a 4AD Records abstract experimental/atmospheric sound. 

I’m so happy with this release.  This is the Velocity Girl that I originally fell in love with, and not to be missed are the added bonus of the B-sides and session outtakes (so happy to hear the “Warm/Crawl” single again!), along with five songs from their 1993 Peel Sessions.  Cheers to Ultracopacetic!!  This will likely spark a collector nerd relapse.

(https://velocitygirl.bandcamp.com/album/ultracopacetic-copacetic-remixed-and-expanded)

Velocity Girl "Crazy Town"

A Pleasant Journey

 

Copperplate

A Pleasant Journey

(Self-released)

Lauren Grace is Copperplate from Georgia.  Lauren has been busy.  Since May of this year, Copperplate has loaded Bandcamp with three albums with another one due on September 20^th.  I’ll be honest, it’s too much for me.  I am old and incredibly have become even more thick-headed over time, so music takes its time seep through.  When I was younger, I could hear an album once and have pretty much all of the song titles memorized, know a lot of the lyrics, and bizarrely, maybe even the exact length of songs.  Forty years later, I have forgotten all of those things, and struggle to absorb new music.  There is a real danger of me purchasing songs more than once.  I have to be careful!  In the case of Copperplate, I am just now grasping this third digital only collection A Pleasant Journey, and have yet to explore the first two options and am trying to prepare for the upcoming one (Contentment).  From what I’m gathering is that Copperplate is incapable of writing a subpar song.

A Pleasant Journey is definitely in store for those who enjoy dreamy indie pop.  These intimate recordings are full of meticulous cleanly plucked guitar chimes and jangles (hinting at early Ocean Blue), over a hazy base of quiet vocals and other instrumentation.  If pressed to compare, Copperplate lands somewhere between Seattle’s Sea Lemon (especially on the ultra-catchy “Oh Okay,” and its jaunty bass-line) and San Francisco’s Tanikichan.  Lauren has a knack for memorable choruses and I love the guitar work throughout - a sound that instills reflection, and daydreams of rain clouds on the horizon.  “Preoccupy,” has a booming low end that is incredibly appealing, while “Grand Central” ruminates over our limited time lines in a warm way that reminds me of Depeche Mode’s “Here is the House.”

I’m pretty sure that Copperplate can write, record, and mix an entire album of consistent high quality songs faster than I can fully consume them.  Speaking of which, Copperplate has removed the earlier releases from their Bandcamp page, so be sure to check out A Pleasant Journey as quickly as you can, and get ready for the next album in a few weeks! 

(https://copperplatemusic.bandcamp.com/album/a-pleasant-journey)

Copperplate "Preoccupy"

We Should Have Walked But We Ran

For a lot of people, talking about dreams is a deal breaker.  I love dreams.  Even the really dark ones spark a deep wonder in me.  I enjoy hearing about other’s dreams and am fascinated with the mystery of them.  My interest doesn’t go so far as deep diving into trying to interpret them, but it can be an enjoyable conversation.    I’ve never been a good sleeper, but have always been a good dreamer.  After experiencing a couple of creepy in hospital sleep clinics, I’ve been told by the professionals that I do not delve into all of the stages of sleep, but instead only drift into the first stage - a semiconscious state, which can provide incredibly lucid dreams.  Clearly, I have not done a lot of intensive research of this phenomenon, but I can confirm that I do, and always have had vivid and memorable dreams.

A  couple of years ago I stopped working due to medical disability, yet my mind seems to want to continue work, because I continue to frequently have restless dreams involving work, which generally include not being able to accomplish tasks and finding myself overwhelmed.  Because I’m not currently employed these dreams generally are a strange mishmash of many of my previous jobs, which give them an added stress due to their incongruity. 

All through my high school years, which was an unbelievable amount of years ago, I worked at a small town pizza joint.  While working there, my fellow co-workers and I often discussed our shared dreams caused by working long hours there.  It turned out that many of us had similar nightmares about falling behind during the crazy busy stretches.  One that still haunts me is being afraid to fall asleep because of the danger of burning an oven full of pizzas.  Several times, I remember waking up in my bed actually physically trying to use a pizza paddle to remove finished pizzas from my headboard.  Aside from those moments, the job was mostly fun.  The place was run by teenagers and my co-workers were also friends and confidants.  We had our own lingo and our shared experiences made us a tight family of sorts.  Our stripes were made up of bleach stained jeans and rotten sneakers.

I still occasionally dream about that place.  Recently, as usual, I was having a restless night trying to sleep.  I gave up several times, got out of bed, and managed to accomplish some chores and watch TV to try to settle my thoughts before attempting sleep again.  Next thing I knew i was standing with my cane next to that pizza place’s salad bar, which stood across from the beverage bar.  It was all there: the ice packed around a couple of dozen plastic canisters of salad toppings, adorned with kale fronds, both stained with beet juice and dribbles of various dressings freckled with strange rust colored bacon bits.  

The layout of that place consists of two side entrances – one on each side of the restaurant, an upper balcony of booths that run along three quarters of the rectangle that makes up the seating area, an open lower area offers large group sized tables behind the salad bar and beneath the upper level, and it’s designed so that customers order their meal at one counter fronting the open kitchen, and then order beverages at a different counter further into the building.

 

In the dream, my cousin Nikki and her husband Brett (cousin-in-law?), who are successful purveyors of hospitality businesses in Moscow, ID, had purchased this long-time pizzeria and were holding a grand opening of sorts.  They were there near where I was standing, along with three of my old friends/former co-workers: Ken, Eric, and Jamie – all of us filled out and decaying at various stages from age.  Apparently, Sylvester Stallone was sitting in a booth above us, surrounded by a small posse of security.  He was a celebrity guest of honor.  The biggest celebrity invite since Annette Funicello had been a confirmed no show for a high school dance that was held in the restaurant back in 1987.

 

At that point, I noticed that the front counter was empty of customers and the pizza maker and oven runner were folding pizza box flats into their finished state.  They were creating an impossibly tall stack, so that anyone trying to access one to put a finished pizza into will most likely knock the entire stack over.  This had been common practice back in my days of employment.  I decided to go stand at the counter and let the two teenagers know about my approval of their shenanigans.

 

As I approached the counter, the teenage girl who was there to take food orders, kind of made eye contact with me, before ducking down the hallway that takes one to the back are of the restaurant.

“Hey guys!” I stammered loudly, without warning, “Nice job with the Mega-Stack!”  I leaned into my cane with my right hand and waved my uncontrollable left hand in a useless effort to indicate that giant stack of folded pizza boxes.  “Just like we used to do!” I added, for unnecessary emphasis.  I hated every word that I had shouted.

The two guys looked at each other across the work table that divided them, instead of looking back at me, and after a pause, the pizza maker on the right, after a pause, while still maintaining eye contact with the oven guy, replied: “Thank you SIR.  I bet you got some tall stacks back in those days” 

The acerbity in his voice was exactly as it should’ve been and exactly how Ken, Eric, Jamie and I would have responded to such an invasion 30-40 years ago.  I spun slowly around and scooted back towards the small gathering of people standing on the main level below where Sylvester Stallone was holding court.  My cousin Nikki made eye contact with me, and as I approached, she asked me if the two guys had been rude to me, and looked prepared to scold them. 

“Not at all,” I responded.  They treated me, exactly as they should have, I looked back at the kitchen and the oven runner was tossing three pizza cutters into the air over the work table, as the pizza maker shouted out random instructions about how to juggle.