November 17, 2007
The Weakerthans - Reunion Tour
Beautiful story telling narratives are a rarity in rock music, but that’s exactly what The Weakerthans have provided us with here—again. The vocal tricks and dexterity John K. Sampson uses to weave his poetry-prose into the band’s folk styled rock is quite wonderful in it’s apparent seamless ease and make The Weakerthans something pretty special and beloved to their fans.
It’s been a long wait since 2004′s Reconstruction Site but the album here is still very familiar and The Weakerthans as already known—there isn’t anything much in the way of new other than the stories the songs tell. In my mind that’s enough, when you have such a perfect sound for your art why go changing when you still have the imagination, empathy and talent to tell these new tales. Reunion Tour is however, overall, a more melancholy album than previous outings, the wistful nature of the tracks still somehow manages to be uplifting rather than totally depressing though. Is there such a thing as happy melancholy?
Starting out with the tale of a love sick bus driver, Civil Twilight is a song for anyone who has ever lost anyone and wandered, wondering. The thrumming bassline of Hymn of the Medical Oddity carrys over into Relative Surplus Value while it then turns down the folk and turns up the Rock to full tilt for a tale of exhausted failure. After a brief jaunt into the world of curling for Tournament of Hearts, Virtute the cat makes a return appearance (after having her plea on Reconstruction Site), this time round it’s a heart-breaking ballad of her life and regrets after leaving, reminiscing “I’d knead into your chest while you were sleeping. Shallow breathing made me purr.”
Elegy for Gump Worsley delves into a more spoken word style with minimal melody and instrumentation. Sun in an Empty Room has the happiest guitars of the album, jangling away while moving on from an old shared apartment room. Night Windows may regretfully be an attempt to be more radio-friendly than necessary, sounding the most commercial and ending up with the lyrics seeming disjointed at times. The albm then rolls into a song superficially about Bigfoot! with the haunting intro & outro try to convince you it’s only about some big hairy ape-like creature but the lyrics are written so well that there’s undertones of much, much more. Finishing up the album with the marching drums and plodding life-on-the-road guitar of Reunion Tour and finally the end of show wind down of Utilities won’t leave you in a joyous mood, but wistfully happy. It’s what The Weakerthans do best and do better than anyone else. Simply beautiful.
November 15, 2007
Milburn are four mates from Sheffield who are not the Arctic Monkeys. I couldn’t care less about the Arctic Monkeys or whether this second album from Milburn helps to distance them or stamp their own individual identity down on vinyl (“vinyl” just sounds a better word when saying such things so lets gloss over any digital age inaccuracies) so lets forget that comparison now. Writing a full albums worth of all new material just a year after their debut, Well Well Well says something, probably something good, about the band. Especially one touted as at their best performing live.
And the album is okay. On second listen it’s quite fine. Third time round and aye, I’m admitting that it’s good. The initial impression is set strongly by first single, What Will You Do (When The Money Goes)? with it’s stabby guitars flowing into The Shadows styled twangs. The themes remain similar throughout the rest of the album; Wolves At Bay has some great stop-start stuff going on in there, again very Hank Marvin; Lucy Lovemenot ups the pace slightly to get the head nodding and foot tapping; Sinking Ships slows down into a competent ballad moment for the guitar to get lovely and bassy; Count To 10 manages some good vocal melodies. Cowboys And Indians is a great stand out track, a jumpy, spiky fun and playful anthem for live shows.
On first listen I’d written that the album tried to update the sixties and incorporate that into today’s indie rock pop but failed due to the sixties being a bit rubbish without it’s required tacky retro kitsch. But after a couple more plays I am won over and the sixties influence on the record has become quite endearing. These Are The Facts is a grower.
April 7, 2007
Two guitars, bass, drums & hoarse rasping vocals from Ohio USA playing straight forward american rock music, Two Cow Garage manage to rack up a couple hundred live shows each year. With a European Tour scheduled for Summer 2007 we’ll not judge whether they had time to think of a more inspired name for their third album so Three it is.
Sticking strongly to the rock n roll cowboy formula with songs about how shit things are when endlessly touring, Three strolls along from one bittersweet regret to the next with the vocals setting a very strained feeling to the whole affair which at times is crushingly depressing. Often Two Cow Garage struggle to convey the ‘who gives a fuck’ attitude that real kick-ass rock music requires to reach into your guts and tighten guitar strings round your soul.
Halfway through though, Now I Know bounces in unexpectedly like a bastardised american version of a Quireboys tune before the album sliding back into Should’ve California, a what could’ve been ballad about youthful glory days. Mediocre then takes us into a Dave Lee Roth self-parodying sound complete with horn section but overall the highlight, upbeat moments are over-shadowed by the world weary balladeering, leaving the album as the perfect soundtrack to anyone wishing to buy in a gallon of Jack Daniel’s & a carton of Marloboro and smoke & drink themselves into oblivion. Understanding that is the key to the album’s greatness.
March 21, 2007
One of The Netherlands’ finest embassadors of pop punk, constantly touring around the UK & rest of the world, you’ll find The Apers being name-checked alongside The Queers & Screeching Weasel by anyone worth their punk-cred salt. Descended directly from the quick-fire two-chord, one-line sing-a-long repeat lines of the Ramones and sticking right to the half-hour album ethos—“you can play the album at full volume with speakers out your window and have it finish before the cops arrive”—don’t expect anything new here. But hey, if it ain’t broke then there’s no need to fix it.
After more than ten years and five albums it’s no surprise that this time around The Apers have offered a somewhat more mature sounding album, very by-the-numbers at times and with a couple of instantly forgettable tracks along the way. They’re gone before you notice though and a new jumping chorus hook is along to keep you entertained.
Reanimate My Heart is one of the album’s epics, reaching almost three minutes fifty seconds. It slows down the pace from the rest of the album’s full frontal punk guitar onslaught, a welcome change from so many of today’s ‘punk’ emo kids idly thrumming away at guitars for no apparent reason. The aim here is clear, get off your dumb fat ass, start shaking it and jump around like a loon.
