Mike Bennett Reviews, June, 2003

Scroll down for reviews of the latest releases by Frisbie, New Pornographers, Fountains of Wayne and Radiohead

Pernice Brothers
Yours, Mine & Ours

(Ashmont)

ashmontrecords.com

It is scary to think that Joe Pernice may not have peaked. Having already written enough great songs to fill a book (in fact, fans who pre-ordered the disc got an autographed lyric book of all of Joe's released songs from his Scud Mountain Boys albums to this current release) or a box set, Pernice and his colleagues are now finding new wrinkles, while also honing the patented Pernice Brothers style to something that makes Joe's voice and his words achieve maximum impact.

The essence of their music is a yin-yang of lovely downcast lyrics with music that is beautiful and sometimes joyous. Both the shimmering tunes and the power of Joe Pernice's observations keep it from being mopey or depressing. Very few writers have been able to boil down the often futile pursuit of romance into something poetic and cutting. The opening line of the first song might be worth the price of admission alone: "Won't you come away with me/and begin something we can't understand."

This song is "The Weakest Shade of Blue", a piece of jangle pop that has more than a hint of the buoyant sounds of a lot of the British indie rock played on college radio stations in the mid-‘80s. But The Smiths and their ilk didn't throw in beautiful harmony vocals which cascade throughout the song. The splendiferous blissful music provides a platform for Pernice to express joy over the slim possibility that he won't be lonely. Yep, according to this song, it is far better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, even if the love is "ruinous and true" because "the sheltered loveless life/fades into the weakest shade of blue." The weakest shade of blue is accompanied by the biggest stack of porn, I would guess.

A couple other songs also rock with this newly propulsive Pernice sound. On both "Sometimes I Remember" and "One Foot in the Grave", bassist Thom Monahan gets to break out his best Pete Hook moves. "Sometimes" even has a structure that is similar to the straight rock side of New Order (songs like "Weirdo" and "Love Vigilantes") and The Cure at their "Just Like Heaven"-ist. "Grave" is chock full of creative touches. Laura Stein finds room within the vibrant sonic space to add delicate contrasting keyboard parts. Likewise, Peyton Pinkerton shows off his amazing ability to come up with just the right guitar sound -- a ringing tone here, a twisted bit there. The finale of the song is probably the most driving piece of music they've produced yet.

One other new angle is soul. Not that the Pernice Brothers aren't soulful. But "Blinded by the Stars" does a great job of melding a classic Joe Pernice melody to a Memphis soul rhythm. Again, Pinkerton's guitar work is exemplary -- the feel he has for this type of tune is evident, yet he doesn't slavish imitate the MGs. This number is evocative, rather than derivative.

Of course, there are other numbers that uphold the traditions of The Zombies and Big Star, both bands that captured melancholy and bittersweet so well. "Water Ban" is an excellent use of metaphor, Joe comparing a busted romance to a summer drought, as he laments "scorched earth lovers/is that all we'll be?" On "Number Two", things are bitter and verging on dangerous. Joe subtly enunciates even more clearly than normal, adding a bit of menace to his soft voice as he sings "I hope that his letter finds you crying/it would feel so good to see you cry." This song perfectly encapsulates the feeling after a bad split -- it's not that you want to be doing better than your ex, it's that you want your ex to be much, much worse, even if your life is shit.

Why is this record so compulsively playable? How often can anyone listen to failed romance stated in pretty words? Part of it is that the music is so memorable and resonant. Even more important is that no matter how often the romance is gone in these songs, the embers are still alive, hoping for another turn at love.

When Joe asks "did you have to be/as typical as a tragedy?" on "Waiting for the Universe", he is really on to something. You see, when you're in love, there's not much need for analysis. Whether it's that initial stage of ecstatic elation or that feeling of utter contentment, it's something that works. You may take a look at it once in a while, but usually you just let the magic keep working. When a relationship fails, it plays again over and over in your mind. What keeps you going back is the need to recapture that elation, that contentment, and hold it in your arms and wake up to it in the morning. With each album, Pernice Brothers capture why we love, in spite of all the danger.

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Frisbie
Period

(Hear Diagonally)

digfrisbie.com

Frisbie’s 2000 debut album, The Subversive Sounds Of Love, showcased a five-piece band with two talented lead vocalists and three talented songwriters. Not only did lead singer/guitarists Steve Frisbie and Liam Davis write, but drummer Zack Kantor contributed some of the most powerful songs on the disc, such as the majestic “To See and Be Seen” and the pensive “Wrecking Ball”.

By the time the album came out, that fistful of Kantor compositions was just a glimpse of his repertoire, and the band had at least another album’s worth of tunes at the ready. It wasn’t long before there were enough new Kantor songs that the band could have done an entire set of his songs.

The second Frisbie album, Period, is an entire set full of Kantor’s songs. Recorded in early 2003 at the famed Chicago-area venue FitzGeralds, the disc shows that Kantor’s material achieves a special resonance when heard in one full album. Like a lot of special songwriters, Kantor has developed his own syntax, so to speak. There are certain things he does with chords and melodies that make his songs distinctive. Moreover, there is a consistency in the lyrics, as the songs return to specific themes and ideas. In fact, songs often contain similar snatches of words, or refer to concepts that turn up in other songs.

Fans of the more anthemic material from Subversive will find plenty to like on this collection (and fans of the aforementioned “To See and Be Seen” will enjoy the pithy “Comes- n - goes”, which uses a similar melody in a more fast paced song), as Frisbie creates jawdropping crescendos. Like the one that ends “Girlfriend”, which is a marvel of a track. It opens with acoustic power chords before settling into a slightly funky and insinuating verse. Steve Frisbie perfectly articulates the yearning and frustration of the lyrics – a post-modern can’t-get-no-satisfaction. The chorus is a powerful emotional burst, the melodic hook riding on the curt rhythm of the guitars. On the final chorus, everything kicks into the stratosphere, with Frisbie and Davis singing their asses off. The anger that fuels the song comes to a fork in the road, meeting both resignation and hope. It is incredibly rousing.

“Mourning Machines” is more straightforward, a model of repetition (to build tension) and the subtle use of dynamics (to further build the tension). The static guitar playing on the first three verses is married to stately harmony singing from Frisbie and Davis, while Eddie Carlson finds spaces to add color with his bass. The song melts into a slight middle eight, which provides a final respite from the urgent playing, before the dam bursts in a climactic final verse which takes on a near religious fervor. It’s like taking The Posies and injecting them with the spirit of Bob Mould at maximum intensity.

Kantor’s affinity for R & B comes through on songs like “Novacaine”, the playful “Pick a Flower” and the devastating slow burning “Blowing Up and Telling Lies”. The latter song shows off a songwriter with utter confidence in his mastery of the form. It starts off with spartan backing as Frisbie and Davis trade lead vocals, Frisbie singing very sweetly while Davis is soulful and passionate. There’s no real chorus to speak of, but there is a guitar coda that basically serves in that role, which musically resolves the verses, while never diminishing the underlying powerful sadness of the song.

The climax is a middle eight which features Frisbie climbing to the top of his range. It sends shivers up the spine. While the lyrics are cryptic, they create a sense of someone exploring within himself and looking for a connection with somebody. Both the words and the music share a rise and fall of emotion that is alluring yet wrenching. How both singers illuminate this is a real credit to the way Frisbie collaborates as a band.

The primary reason Kantor’s sensibility melds so well with that of the rest of the band is because many of his songs are so classically pop. Whatever differences Davis, Frisbie and Kantor may have, they all turn to The Beatles, The Who and other kindred spirits who are at the foundation of the classicist Frisbie sound. This shows up in “Girlfriend” and “I Know What’s in Store”, where the guitars immediately harken back to the wide open guitar parts played by Pete Townshend. They hit you in the gut. Then there are the melodies that hold their own with any British Invasion band circa 1967, like “Another Story”, a perfect construction which has a middle eight that conjures up memories of “We Can Work it Out”.

As mentioned earlier, Kantor’s body of work revisits numerous images and lyrical themes. This is patently obvious on “Free in Cm” and “Free in G”. The songs both have the same wistful chorus. But that chorus (“but we’re free/to be hangin’ on/by a thread of disbelief/that we’re free/and there’s nothing wrong/take a leaf from a tree”) sits in two entirely different contexts. “Free in Cm” is another urgent number, with clipped verses that convey anything but freedom. The finale of the song seems to encapsulate it’s theme: “When fucked up shit starts coming your way/just pick a flower almost every single day oh yeah/if you’re not diggin’ on this one man show/turn on a TV/and-a-sing-a-do-si-do, oh yeah.” In this passage, which teems with phrases that he uses in other songs, Kantor seems to be expressing that in a life where so much is rote and forced, there still is a place to cut loose and enjoy things.

On “Free in G”, everything is loverly. While the music is markedly more relaxed, the song manages to take a different angle on the same premise, with warnings about a how you must “run where the money’s gone.” Thankfully, there are still “some real nice folks walkin’ around” so we can feel free. Even if we aren’t.

Hearing all of these songs end to end, and the repeating references to “machinations” and “frustrations”, of “fucked up shit” and the “freaky”, you really get sucked into the way that pop music can be tragic and triumphant at the same time. Kantor’s songs are all about the internal struggles we have in dealing with the problems in the outside world. A lot of times they make life seem like a puzzle that never has the right pieces to fit. And often the music adds to this feeling – the songs don’t immediately deliver the hook, but take a bit of time to get there, making the pleasure all the more satisfying. Moreover, despite the fears and rants express in the lyrics, the music is so full of life, challenging the problems and providing uplift.

Frisbie (the band) is the perfectly vehicle for these songs, between the skillful playing of the musicians and the amazing vocals of Frisbie and Davis. However, even though Kantor’s presence is what this disc is all about, he was not present at FitzGeralds in Berwyn when it was recorded.

Early on in 2001, Kantor took leave from the band after being diagnosed with severe depression. Though he briefly rejoined Frisbie, he had to leave the band again last year. So this record, in part, is a tribute to a comrade and friend. It also stands as a closing of a chapter. And although I’d be lying if I didn’t say that some of Kantor’s lyrics take on a different perspective when put in the context of his life, they don’t need that to stand on their own. Whatever problems he had and has, his songs are about feelings that everyone experiences, in varying degrees. His ability to create music that communicates those feelings comes through on every song.

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The New Pornographers
Electric Version

(Matador/Mint)

matadorrecords.com

This sequel might not be as good as the original, but it stands up pretty well. The amalgam of power pop, new wave and ‘60s pop sounds on the New Pornographer's debut was so fresh and performed in such a breathless rush, that the band was left with an almost impossible follow up task. Thankfully, songwriters Carl Newman and Dan Bejar are more than equal to the task.
Still, it took me more spins to have it fully grab me -- this is probably more due to the overwhelming consistency -- there are no weak tunes here. Also, the production is more conventional. On the last album, the band favored an extremely trebly sound that could best be described as post-modern transistor radio. It added to the explosive feeling that permeated nearly every song. Here, things are more...dignified? Anyway, there's really no need for production devices, when you are master of songs and the best way to perform them.

Newman and Bejar take the majority of the vocals. One thing that makes the New Pornographers work so well is that Newman and Bejar have a common sensibility when it comes to songwriting -- though their lead vocals often identify who penned the tune, there isn't a stunning difference between their output. Moreover, though their voices are identifiably different, they have a consistent sardonic tone. Newman is the rangier of the two, and shows off more range on this album (not quite what he was doing in Zumpano, however).

Of course, Neko Case gets some turns at the microphone, but she is confined primarily to spirited backing vocals. As a firm proponent of strong lead vocals, I could easily be one of the many writers who claims that the best songs on both New Pornographers records are the ones Neko sings on. But I'm really fucking tired of reading that. Of course Case is one of the true treasures of contemporary vocalizing. Yet Newman and Bejar have distinctive personalities that are well suited for these tunes. I can't imagine most of the tunes they sing being warbled by Neko.

That being said, Neko does get part of the lead vocals on a couple of the highlight tracks on the album. The first single off the album, "The Laws Have Changed" shows off all of the best attributes of the New Pornographers. Lyrics filled with dizzying wordplay. An instantly memorable melody in the verse. Case taking the chorus vocal. A nifty bridge out of the second chorus, that only reinforces the hook, supported by harmony vocals, while Case continues singing underneath. And a big build up at the end of the song that brings everything home. On "All for Swinging You Around", the band goes all post-modern New Wave. The song has a bouncy backbeat, a cheesy organ, and some cool horns. On this chorus, everyone but Carl Newman and Kurt Dahle drop out, Dahle playing a slight surf rock beat as Case sings so gloriously.

Bejar only contributes a few songs, but he makes them count big time. "Chump Change" lays his reedy vocals on music that sounds like a cross between Heartbeat City-era Cars and Electric Light Orchestra (the latter coming out on the weird backing vocals that bridge the verses and choruses). This song has about three different hooks and uses dynamics very effectively. And like Bejar's first LP gem "Jackie", he packs a lot of words into a descending melody. It's hard to describe, but this is a trick that grabs the ear every time. "Testament to Youth in Verse" is not quite as incredible. Still, when you can effortlessly real off lines like "you blame the stations/when they play you like a fool/and like a fool you get played with", you're way ahead of game.
Newman shines also, and shows off some new wrinkles. It's possible that "Ballad of a Comeback Kid" sprang from the ashes of an unfinished Zumpano song. It has a bouncy ‘60s pop chorus. However, what really distinguishes it is a wistful ‘60s pop middle eight near the end of the song. It touches a spot the New Pornographers had not touched before. "The New Face of Zero and One" opens with a nod to Adam and the Ants, with Dahle's drum part, before hitting a glam rock inspired verse. What's particularly nifty is how this influence melds into their sound, as opposed to just sound like they nicked Gary Glitter or Sweet.
So The New Pornographers conclusively prove that they are not one album wonders. Since this appears to be an ongoing project, the question now becomes, where will they go next. They have a very distinctive style and a few songs on here seem to be cousins of songs from the first album. There is really no one who sounds like them or approaches music like they do. It would seem to be hard to complain about another album like this. Yet, at some point, they will have to find new tricks.

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Fountains Of Wayne
Welcome Interstate Managers

(S-Curve/Virgin)

virginrecords.com

Chapter Three of the Fountains Of Wayne story finds Chris Collingwood and Adam Schlesinger continuing their verging-on-perfect evocation of the pop nirvana of AM Radio, showing off a range that incorporates some of the best ideas of the ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s. Their seemingly inexhaustible cache of catchiness is complimented by their post-modern lyrical stance. Beneath the jokes and irony, Collingwood and Schlesinger reveal themselves to be observational songwriters of the first stripe, equaling the heights reached by Ray Davies and Paul Simon in their near contemporaneous heydays.

It is difficult to ascertain what would constitute musical growth for this band, beyond the fact that with stable personnel, they rock with more conviction than ever before (check out the rhythm section breakdown on "Bought for a Song"). On this album, the Fountains introduce a few more styles into their confection factory. "Hung Up on You" is taken from Collingwood's faux-country side project Gay Potatoes, and is a twangy detour that pays its respects to the grand country lyrical tradition of turning a phrase back on itself to make a point ("Ever since you hung up on me/I'm hung up on you"). Meanwhile, overt Bacharach worship is in evidence on "Halley's Waitress". The evocation is sublime and made all the more delightful by picking the most mundane of subjects, a slow waitress who is providing bad service, to ratchet up to the dimensions of a Douglas Sirk melodrama. Collingwood scores bonus points for his heretofore unknown ability to sing soulfully in his falsetto range.

But the essence of Fountains of Wayne is the pure pop. They keenly train their eyes on the underachievers, the dreamers and needy in the sprawl of suburbia. Their use of standard pop forms only adds to the brilliance of their lyrics -- songs for the common man set to music that sounds like what the radio used to play for the common man.

Importantly, they have empathy for who they are singing about. The guy singing "Hackensack" is so pathetic that Phillip Seymour Hoffman should be buying the film rights to the song. He's singing to a girl he used to sit next to in home room, who has made it big in the movies ("I saw you talking/to Christopher Walken"). He dreamed about her since those bygone days, and reassures her that "I will wait for you/as long as I need to" if she ever comes back home. The second verse of this song explains the delusional behavior, as he talks about the drudgery of working for his dad, seemingly stuck in Hackensack forever. I don't think Schlesinger and Collingwood would endorse such empty dreams, but they understand why people hold on to them in the face of gigantic odds.

They turn their attention to neglected teens on "Fire Island". The somber piano track describes a party while the parents are away. Much like "Hackensack", the singer is really trying to convince himself that things are O.K. -- "we're old enough by now/to take care of each other/we don't need no babysitter/we don't need no father or mother."

Sometimes the dreams go down in flames. The brilliant "Bright Future in Sales" rides a ballsy Cars-type riff (a la "Denise") as Collingwood sings about a guy who is up to his neck at work and is about ready to go under. Overwhelmed, getting shit faced and fucking up: "gotta do some quick reading/for the big meeting/but my head is spinning/and I can't quite open my eyes". Despite all the struggles, there is still a ballsy misplaced bravado that's comic.

Perhaps the guy singing "Bright Future" is the same guy, albeit younger, singing "Stacy's Mom". This is similar to "My Best Friend's Girl" in its post-modern Buddy Holly stutter riff. The story of a high school kid with a jones for his girlfriend's mom, misreading every thing she tells him as a sign of interest. There is more sublime pop where that came from, from the silly opener "Mexican Wine" to the extreme Simon & Garfunkel worship evident on "Oh Julie".

At 16 tracks, perhaps this album could have been pruned a bit, though hardcore fans will savor every note. With three albums under their belt, all of them of the highest quality, Fountains of Wayne have cemented their status as one of the top pop bands of the past 10 years.

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Radiohead
Hail To The Thief

(Capitol)

hollywoodandvine.com

Some time between the release of The Bends and OK Computer, Radiohead had thrust upon it the crown of The Most Important Band In Rock. It is interesting to note that when the latter album was released, there was significant record company concern about the fact it didn't have an obvious single and might not reach the masses. It turned out, that the masses didn't care. It also turns out that there were enough accessible songs, numbers like "Karma Police", that forays into weirdness like "Paranoid Android" were welcomed with open arms. Worldwide success.
The band chose not to capitalize on this success with sweeping statements of grandeur. Instead, they threw on labcoats and made the studio a laboratory. The results were the simultaneously recorded/separately released Kid A and Amnesiac, both which were eagerly snagged by their growing legion of fans. These albums inspired great debates. Insular and self-indulgent, the band drew from sources like Aphex Twin for electronic soundscapes. Hooks were out, atmosphere was in. In a ballsy (or stupid) move, the band's greatest asset, Thom Yorke's stunning (and now oft-imitated) tenor voice was often relegated to the background or processed (like a post-modern Roger Troutman) to the point that it really didn't matter that it was his voice. These albums have vociferous supporters, but I think that they ultimately fail, in that the main thing they communicated was Radiohead's ability to makes such music, rather than convey any worthwhile ideas or emotions.

However, this album shows that in another way, the two albums were vitally important. That's because Radiohead brings all they learned in those forays together with their outstanding songwriting ability to create the first true 21st Century rock record. Never has the sense of alienation and frustration that has marked some of their best work been so well articulated in a musical framework. The result is a thoroughly compelling record that will deserves to be hailed as a masterpiece.

In many of the songs, there is a firm rock and roll foundation, with all sorts of special things that bear the distinct Radiohead stamp. "Myxamatosis" is fueled by an up-and-down bass line with drummer Phil Selway playing a funky back line part. Thom Yorke babbles his concerns in the middle of the noises. The chorus ("I don't...know...why...I...get...so...tongue...tied") rides over the drums, unaccompanied by any other instruments. As the song goes on high pitched organ parts layer into the sound, and the band extends the subsequent choruses. It rocks in an odd way and is incredibly catchy.

"Go to Sleep" and "A Punch Up at a Wedding" and "There There" all have blues based structures lurking somewhere under the surface. "Punch-up" isn't too far from what Gomez did on their last album, though they would have rocked it up more. Here, the groove is understated as Yorke tells the story, and the floating chorus melody shouldn't fit with the song's structure, but they find a way to do it. "There There" combines dub like production on the rhythm section with a mixture of reverberating acoustic guitars and foreboding leads. This is another song where the rhythm manages to be subdued, yet the song still has drive. It just shows that you don't have to play hard, you just have to hit that rhythm right. "Go to Sleep" is about as straightforward a song as Radiohead has recorded in years, premised on an acoustic guitar part that sounds like it's from a lost ‘60s classic rock number. "I'm gonna go to sleep/and let the idiots wash all over me" Yorke sings, right before the song breaks into a chunky blues rock section.

Other songs are swathed in technology. "The Gloaming" loops and layers electronic noises into the rhythm track, puts Yorke in an echo chamber, as he repeats phrases (like "when the walls spin/when the walls spin/will you breathe in") and carries the melody. As the song moves on, more electronics move in. The music effectively mirrors the claustrophobia Yorke sings about. Devastating. "Backdrifts" is reggae from Mars. Not to beat a dead horse, but Yorke again carries the melody, with only a keyboard line accompanying him. Many singers try to imitate him. They can't equal his talent. Even on this song, where he's at the top of his considerable range, he not only sings with typical passion, you can also here some swagger at points.

Resting between the poles of earthy and unearthly, there are plenty of simply beautiful songs that break the delicious tension at the heart of many of the songs. A few are piano driven numbers like "Sail to the Moon", which has a lilting arcing melody that hints at Electric Light Orchestra. There's a late Beatles elegance to "Scatterbrain", which has a tenderness and compassion that is palpable.

The finale, "A Wolf at the Door" combines a typical arty guitar melody with Yorke doing a good mock-Dylan rant that totally counters the music. The chorus then gets on the melody track. The melody chimes as Yorke sings: "I keep the wolf at the door/calls me up/calls me on the phone/tells me all the ways that he going to mess me up/steal the children/if I don't pay the ransom/I'll never see them again/if I squeal to the cops". The song as a whole is about being overwhelmed by the demands of society. The song doubles its intensity in the second half. The song manages to meld anger with an extra large does of empathy. It shows how Radiohead had melded craftsmanship, atmosphere and, most of all heart.

It's that heart that pervades the entire album. It is so full of memorable songs that are infused with so many elements. I'm still hearing new things each time. While not the last chapter, for certain, Hail To The Thief represents a defining achievement in Radiohead's career.

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