My Name
Wet Hills and Big Wheels
As the corporate feeding frenzy surrounding Seattle finally begins to die down, I can't help but feel guilty for dredging up yet another Puget Sound band. Regardless, it is my pleasure to rave about Tacoma's finest band, C/Z recording artists My Name.
My Name's Megacrush may very well be my favorite record that came out last year. My Name showed an amazing ability to hop effortlessly from style to style, all complex and unique yet integrated into a whole musical fabric.
Singer Abe Brennan's lyrics are among the best in popular music, earnestly discoursing on everythin from trying to improve the world without lowering others' self-esteem to having an infatuation with one's blood relatives.
By those lucky enough to have been exposed to Megacrush, the release of the new album has been eagerly awaited. Finally, Wet Hills and Big Wheels is here, and while it is still in the tradition of the first album, there are some major differences.
On Megacrush, the individual band members wrote sections of the songs independently, resulting in songs that often twisted unpredictably from one thing to the next. This yielded some nice surprises, like the Crash Worship-esque rhythm break in "A Woman's Touch" or the scatting at the end of "Famegator." Brennan's lyrics usually had absolutely nothing to do with the music and could generally be considered stories unto themselves.
On Wet Hills the band has worked more closely together, to both good and bad effect. The songs now have a much more together feel. The lyrics are more closely integrated into the songs, which no longer seem like a collection of a bunch of different ideas. The whole thing has a much more listenable complexion, requiring less effort to distinguish the gestalt of each song.
On the other hand, this approachability, which will probably sell the band a bunch more records, also diminishes the album's appeal. I found the schizophrenia of the original album to be refreshing and unique, sort of a poor man's Mr. Bungle.
Like that group, My Name also showed that they certainly had the musicianship to pull the whole thing off. The new album sounds a lot more like straightforward punk rock -- considerably more interesting than the run-of-the-mill, but also less demanding on the listener.
That doesn't mean, however, that this isn't an excellent release. A few songs in particular stand out. The opener, "Rumpled Blanket," is an intensely catchy pop song in the vein of the first album's "Megacrush."
"Another Token Protest" tells of the dignity of being thrown into the Tacoma jail for standing up to authority figures. "Sticky" is a hard rocker about standing up for what you believe despite any consequences. "Sick Room," probably the best song on the album, throws together different tempos and moods to create a stirring punk anthem as good as anything I've heard recently.
My Name is touring this fall with hard core jesters All. My Name's performance alone should be worth the cost of the ticket, so keep your eyes open for it. In the meantime, with either Wet Hills or Megacrush you have two of the best releases in alternative music.
-- B.B.
Cracker
Kerosene Hat
Cracker is back, and they've hardly changed a bit -- which is a good thing, trust me. On their first album, these guys developed their own particular brand of rootsy stomping, and the new album displays the same stuff that made the debut great: the jaded world-weariness, the heavy emphasis on the blues and country music and the grooving, drunken, relaxed feeling to it all.
From the speeding "teen angst" groove of "Movie Star" to the low, bottom-of-a-well pseudo-psychedelia of the title track, Kerosene Hat shines. Listening to "Let's Go for a Ride" makes me want to jump in the car and drive 90 miles an hour west across the desert until I hit California. This is road-trip music at its best.
I even found myself liking the one real country song on the album, "Lonesome Johnny Blues," sung by guitarist Johnny Hickman. Country fans be warned, though -- this is genuine country, packed with gritty, sand-blasted guitars. No Garth Brooks pop-country here.
The last track on the album, a 40-second blurb entitled "Hi-Desert Biker Meth Lab," ends the show with some weird samples of snoring, power tools, dogs barking and people talking. On the whole, this is dirty blues rock with a cynical, who-gives-a-shit view of the world and a heavy dose of soul.
Put Kerosene Hat on, call up some friends, and drink cheap beer until the sun comes up.
-- J.H.
Therapy?
Teethgrinder
As much as I like these guys, I have to say that this little tidbit off the new album is disappointing. Therapy? started as an industrial outfit, but have since mutated their sound into something both metallic and melodic, as evidenced on their last full album, Nurse?
I particularly liked the blend of pop and metal in songs like "Neck Freak" and "Perversonality." Ever wonder what Duran Duran would sound like playing thrash? It's definitely interesting.
However, Teethgrinder is a boring step back to the band's industrial roots. The title track is fairly light industrial-metal (lighter and with less "technological" than stuff like ChemLab, Ministry and Nine Inch Nails). The song features jagged guitars, heavy dance beats and lots of repetition, both in the music and the sampling: "In my sleep, I grind my teeth."
The other three tracks on this single, though, are pretty straightforward metal, with a few progressive-sounding bits, a little industrial influence showing through, and an occasional splash of weirdness (the carnival organ on "Sky High McKay(e)," for one example). "Summer of Hate" is a Helmet-ish slow thrash, and "Human Mechanism" is close to the same mold as well.
There's really nothing special here to distinguish Therapy? from the multitudes of "alternative-metal" bands that seem to be cropping up these days. Their normality seems kind of strange, considering the album covers and interior artwork. It seems like they should sound just completely "out there," but in the final analysis, they're as normal as it gets.
Therapy? are a damn good band, honest. They were amazing on tour this summer with Helmet and were much more entertaining to see than Helmet themselves. But they seem to have a severe problem when it comes to translating that live spontaneity and energy to tape. So be warned that what you hear live may not come through when you pop the CD in your CD player.
-- J.H.
Parliament
Tear the Roof Off: 1974-1980
This album provides more funk than any normal human being can possibly stand. This two-CD set (a total of twenty-five classic tunes) is part of Polygram's "Funk Essentials" series, a set of CD collections which also includes the best of Kool and the Gang, the Bar-Kays, Cameo, and Con Funk Shun. "Essentials" is definitely the right term -- if you're a fan of funk, or of more recent bands like Fishbone and the Chili Peppers, then you need this. You need it right now.
As far as I'm concerned, Parliament is the be-all and end-all of funk, so maybe I'm a bit biased, but this greatest-hits collection is absolutely spectacular. Every song, from "P.Funk (Wants To Get Funked Up)" to "Funkin' For Fun," is a booty-shakin' party all by itself.
No "serious" music here, and who cares? George Clinton and his merry band of Afronauts are a hell of a lot more fun. Laugh along if you want -- it's fun music. When you read the "Funk upon a Time" story in the liner notes, you'll realize that these funky alien brothers weren't in it for the money, they were in it for the sheer funkiness of it all.
The liner notes also provide a comprehensive analysis of the P-funk sound, as well as a complete discography and list of the group's sixty-plus lineup over the six years of their existence. On top of all that, the "Funk En Cyclo-P-dia" is a must-read for any fan (I know I was never quite sure what a "splank" was 'till now, how about you?).
Just get this collection, and you never need to fear being unfunky ever again.
-- J.H.
(The Rice Thresher, Volume ??? No. ???, October 8, 1993)