James
Baumann:
November,
2003

Some of you (a handful of friends and about three others) might
recognize my byline from Swizzle-Stick. For the last few years I wrote
reviews, did interviews, and harassed bands to answer silly questions.
Early this year, though, the site slipped into a coma of sorts (imagine
that; an inactive website), leaving me with a stack of delightful discs
and no place to shout their hosannas. Fortunately, though, I was able
to check in with some like-minded virtual friends at Fufkin (a few of
you might remember my name popping up in Mike Bennett’s George Harrison
tribute where I recounted a story about my grandmother stealing a
half-eaten cookie after having tea with the quiet Beatle) and find a
new place to clear my mind of assorted opinions and half-baked
theories. And just in time, too, as my babbling was starting to swirl
together for the wife and kids. (“Which disc was the Pernice Brothers?”
“The one with the blissful melodies.” “The last four discs you’ve
played have all had blissful melodies!”)

So, as a big mea culpa to all the publicists and bands out there that
have been kind enough to say hi at a show or send me a disc I’m going
to try to blitz through the highlights of the past months. Some are a
bit old by now, but hopefully my mentioning them will spark someone’s
memory and they’ll go pick at least one of them up.

Also, I would like to quickly add that my grandmother who was mentioned
in Mike’s story passed away last March. Even though most of the music
discussed here would grate on her church-choir trained nerves, she did
indeed pass on her love of music to me. Therefore I dedicate these
words to her memory and the infamous George Harrison cookie.

I was happy to welcome back Bettie Serveert (www.bettieserveert.com) which offered fans a great treat with the new album,
Log 22, and a United States tour that hit cities beyond the east
coast. Carol Van Dyk continues to possess one of the most distinctive
and alluring voices. That voice and Velvet’s-inspired guitar work
remain the centerpiece of most songs, but the band has filled out the
sound even further this time around with strings, piano, vibraphone,
more guitar effects, and horns. The title track is one of the songs
most reminiscent of the band’s earlier catalog while “The Love In”
could have been a dance-club hit. “Cut ‘N’ Dried” is achingly
beautiful in its subtlety. The distorted jam of “The Ocean, My Floor”
is a delight and the lullaby turned groover, “White Dogs,” could be my
favorite eight minutes of music this year. They are doing another
round of shows across the country in October. Catch ‘em if you can.

The Pernice Brothers (www.pernicebrothers.com) also offered up a great
album, Yours, Mine & Ours, and tour in support of it. Joe Pernice
continues to deliver his splendid passive-aggressive tales. How can
something that sounds so beautiful be so sad? Overall, this record
might be a bit slicker than his past efforts — certainly more than those
of the Scud Mountain Boys — and puts his smooth voice more out in
front. Individually, this disc offers some of his most accessible
tunes to date. “Sometimes I Remember” has a Smiths/New Order feel and
beat. Meanwhile, “One Foot in the Grave,” “Waiting for the Universe,”
and, particularly, the lead-off track “The Weakest Shade of Blue” seem
ready-made for radio and I don’t understand how stations across the
country couldn’t be picking them up. As much as I enjoyed the disc, I
think they were even better when I saw them performed on stage. The
combination of the live setting and the cold half the band seemed to be
fighting gave the songs more urgency and edge, heightening their
appeal.

Every year there’s one record — usually from a band I’ve never heard of
before — that is different from what I normally enjoy, but it
completely knocks me out. The winner for this year is Johnny Society’s
Life Behind the 21st Century Wall. (www.messengerrecords.com) The
style fluctuates through the 14 tracks, making it impossible to sum up
the sound. Sometimes, on songs like “Trust,” they are filled with
blue-eyed soul, like a mellow Urge Overkill. “I Can’t Win” has hints
of Motown and funk. “Get Off My Farm” and “Popular Man” are boozy
country numbers. “Mommy In the Flowers” is a McCartney-esque popper
that utilizes some sort of “I’m singing underwater,” effect, a jazzy
guitar bridge, and then an over-the-top finale. “Strange Bird” is
indeed just that. And “Dirty Water” sounds like something that Jeff
Lynn might have come up with, minus this one jazzy, discordant guitar
riff that runs through it. Regardless of what you call it, it’s filled
with intriguing songwriting and impeccable musicianship that makes it
highly recommended.

Two other records that defy easy description are the latest from Songs:
Ohia (www.secretlycanadian.com) and South San Gabriel
(www.south-san-gabriel.com). Both bands tend to
get grouped into the alt-country movement of the moment, but the label
doesn’t stick. Yes, they have a certain moodiness about them that
might harken back to something like the Louvin Brothers’ “Knoxville
Girl.” And maybe the occasional fiddle or steel pedal guitar rears its
neck.

Songs: Ohia — basically Jason Molina and whoever he pulls along — has
had a tendency to make bleak records. Here on The Magnolia Electric
Co. he lightens up a bit, but still doesn’t offer up songs as much as
he does sweeping landscapes. “Farewell Transmission” starts off with
one of the most lonesome guitar parts you’ll ever hear before the rest
of the band joins in and, along with Molina’s rich voice, raises it
into an anthem. The standout track, “John Henry Split My Heart,” is
filled with Neil Young’s sound and fury. And “I’ve Been Riding With the
Ghost” is the sound of a hitchhiker running to/from something, along a
dusty road. All together, these songs are like American folk tales to
be told around a campfire.

“Welcome Convalescence” cements South San Gabriel’s reputation as
being the outlet for the more subdued creations by members of
Centro-Matic, Slobberbone, and other Texas acts. Will Johnson’s nasal
voice is distinctive in Centro-Matic, but it is even more
front-and-center in the quiet arrangements of South San Gabriel. So,
whether or not the listener likes Johnson’s voice will probably
determine their verdict on the disc. Hopefully people will appreciate
how it slides into the songs, filling holes where needed. The songs
here may be quiet, and the subject matter is dark (a couple dying from
a gas leak, anyone?) but they are not sparse. Along with all the
guitars, different keyboards, percussion, synthesizers, and even a
snoring dog jockey for position. Listen to it when it is raining.

Turning it up a notch, Cleveland’s Cobra Verde released Easy
Listening which was anything but. A few years back Magnet declared
John Petkovic the last rock star and nothing has changed to diminish
that claim. He’s smart and impassioned — somehow, coming from his
mouth lines like “group sexology” and “blowjob of liberty” come off as
legitimate social criticism and not frat boy dreams. Meanwhile, his
band rocks hard, fully embracing glam sounds and style, and J Mascis
makes a guest appearance to play one of the most enjoyable solos of his
career. “Riot Industry” and “Whores” are two of the best
“screw-the-neighbors, turn-it-up” songs of the year. As a whole, it’s
as though Iggy, Bowie and the MC5 got together to teach a graduate
school class, and definitely worth finding.

Meanwhile, the world continues to face a rising number of
female-fronted bands where it’s impossible to say “They rock” without
just waiting for the disclaimer “…for a girl” to be added. Look
around. I’m sure your city has one. However, such is undoubtedly NOT
the case with Manda and the Marbles and their record *More Seduction*
(Go Kart Records). Manda Marble (bass, vocals), Joe A. Damage
(guitars), and Mark Slak (drums) are simply one of the top power-punk
bands I’ve heard in recent years. Strangely enough they honed their
sound not on the Left Coast, but in America’s heartland. Still,
everything comes loud and fast, just like it’s supposed to, along with
references to fast food, 7-11, lost loves, and out-of-touch families
all delivered with a sweet edge. Music that little skate punks — as
well as their parents — can enjoy.

On the reissue front, Columbia Legacy is to be highly commended for
their work on “The Essential Clash” two-disc set. The “only band that
ever mattered” has gotten best-of-ed before, but this time it’s done
right. Sure, the self-titled debut and “London Calling” get the most
play (a baker’s dozen tracks come from “The Clash”), but name two other
records from one group in the last 30 years that deserve it any more?
Equally nice is the DVD filled with promo videos that range from staged
studio shots to Shea Stadium. There’s also a black and white gangster
silent movie that has a decidedly “let’s put on a show” feel to it,
which seems contrary to the band’s — and particularly Joe Strummer’s —
angry political punk rep. The contradiction gives it all the more
charm and helps show that while the band never shied away from making a
statement; they were always focused on making art as well.

Columbia also deserves credit for “Gotta Serve Somebody: the Gospel
Songs of Bob Dylan.” I’m not saying this disc is one to pull out at
parties, but it’s a clever idea (born-again Dylan as interpreted by
gospel singers) and well done. The quality is consistent throughout,
but the bookends of Shirley Caesar doing the title track and Dylan
teaming up with Mavis Staples on “Gonna Change My Way of Thinking”
really stand out.

The Jayhawks (www.rykodisc.com) re-released “Blue Earth” (Restless
Records / Ryko Records) with three new tracks. On this record the band
hadn’t yet reached the polished heights of “Hollywood Town Hall” or
“Tomorrow the Green Grass.” The record did, though, succeed in
reminding me that I like the Jayhawks more as an alt-country band then
their current incarnation as popsters. One can’t deny the appeal of
tracks like “Two Angels,” “Five Cups of Coffee,” “Will I Be Married,”
and “Dead End Angel.” The harmonica sounds are a natural compliment to
Mark Olson’s vocals, much like how they work for Dylan. Strangely
enough, one of the catchiest bonus tracks is called “Two Minute Pop
Song.”

A surprise reissue came from The Mendoza Line (www.mendozaline.com)
with If They Knew This Was the End (Bar/None Records). After last
year’s break out record, Lost In Revelry, (and by “break out” I mean
I could find it in my local record shop) the band had enough cachet to
get their original recordings back from Kindercore, match them up with
some outtakes and demos, and get the whole thing out on the streets.
Most of the subtlety that makes the band such a treat now was still
buried under screeching guitars (see “The Seventh Round”) but the gift
for hooks and melody was already in ample supply. It’s obvious that
the band was still learning their way around their instruments and the
studio — there’s a reason the cover art includes the handwritten note
“I want this to sound like Pete is trapped in a bunker being killed by
men with guitares.” (sic) However, “Small Time Napoleons,” “Camera
Shy,” “Comeback” and “Molly, Please Stop Touching Me” demonstrate the
building blocks future recordings would be based on. And, in the
meantime, they came up with “Dollars to Doughnuts,” the type of
wonderful song that epitomizes all that is good about the “indie rock”
sound; fast fuzzy guitars, under-emphasized vocals that still encourage
sing-alongs, and the requisite low-fi recordings. What makes that all
the more surprising is that the disc ends with a demo version of the
same song that is more based around acoustic guitars and piano. That
is, it sounds more like it would have had they recorded the song for
their most recent album, proving that they’ve had it in them all along.

Finally, there have been plenty of occasions to head out into
Columbus’s smoky bars. Along with those mentioned above, Frank Black
and the Catholics scorched through a fast and frantic set, filled with
great guitar work.

The New Pornographers — with the highly notable exception of Neko Case
— hardly looked like a band that fill a bar with a hip crowd but they
did exactly that and delivered an excellent set that did exactly what
it was supposed to: make me enjoy their records even more than I did
before. And that’s saying something.

Tommy Stinson — on some sort of work-release program from Guns N’ Roses
— took The Figgs and a batch of new songs out for a quick run through.
He’s dressing much better now, but the hair is still spikey and the
songs remain very much in the vein that we heard on the Bash & Pop
record: slightly Stones-ish tunes with some clever wordplay (Wonder
where he picked that up?). Rumors are that he’ll take the band out for
another spin later this fall, so remember that you don’t need to be a
metal head or indie-snob record store clerk to enjoy some good solid
rock.

And finally there was the Foo Fighters’ show where Dave Grohl stood
center stage and “screamed bloody balls” through the band’s hits.
Yeah, the beer was expensive and the crowd was full of thick-necked
idiots. But it’s been a long time since I enjoyed a big rock show
where I could feel the bass drum thudding my chest. And Grohl’s bit
about the dangers of wearing clothes tossed on stage from the audience
was priceless. Let’s just say that I never realized that ringworm was
such a danger out on the road.

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