Mike Bennett Reviews, July, 2003

Scroll down for reviews of the latest releases by The Contrast, Oh My God, The Cloudsmen and Martin Gordon.

Neilson Hubbard
Sing Into Me

(Parasol)

parasol.com

On 2001's Why Men Fail, Neilson Hubbard achieved a real breakthrough. The talented Mississipian tapped into something deep within, as emotion poured out of his performances on every track and the songs themselves were worthy of such commitment -- moody contemplations of love, life and loss. I'm not sure that Hubbard could have come back with another heartwrenching disc like that. In any case, he didn't. This album is cut from similar musical cloth; however, this time Hubbard modulates the temperature -- this album is more serene and even keeled, though still radiating utter commitment. And no wonder. This album is about faith.

Or rather, devotion. Every one of these songs is sung to (or is about) Jesus. What is striking how direct the songs are. Even Hank Williams, who wrote about as directly as any songwriter, couched his religious songs in metaphor or a biblical story. That's not how Hubbard does it on this disc. It is almost as if a minister (or therapist) challenged him, in 30 minutes or so, to express his feelings about Jesus and his faith.

The stark lyrics figuratively and literally reach the heart of the matter. "I'm pretty when I know that you're the one/who needs me every minute that I must go on/come now, I'm ready for you", Hubbard sings on "Ready for You". The comfort and grace exuded in this passage is present throughout the disc. Religion has clearly given Hubbard a strength that is quiet and still overwhelming.

The way he combines the words with the delicate and precise backing is what makes this powerful. In tandem with the lyrics, Hubbard strips every tune down to its essence. The melodies here are simple and could all be carried more than adequately on an acoustic guitar. Though Hubbard and Clay Jones (who produces three tracks and contributes elsewhere) add sonic details, from cellos to vibes to piano (not to mention the spectacular spare backing vocals of Cathy Horne and Betsy Ulmer), they augment and accompany without covering the skeletal nature of the songs. If it is possible to be naked and lush at the same time, that is accomplished here.

The songs are musically in line with Hubbard's work on the last album, extrapolating from the quieter moments of Big Star (particularly Chris Bell's work) and their followers. Hubbard does not ratchet up the vocal intensity like he did at times on the last record; he doesn't need to, as his commitment to everything he sings is patently obvious.

It's hard to pick out highlights on a record that works so well as a whole. I'll point out that his cover of The Velvet Underground's "Jesus" is inspired -- it fits in so well, and the arrangement is terrific. The title cut is whispery and gripping. "Everything's Starting" sounds like a lost Poco or Fleetwood Mac chestnut, and is the most joyous number on the album.

This allows me to once again trot out one of my favorite critical maxims: it's not what you sing about, it's how you sing about it. Every note on this record is true. It is rare when I meet someone who is really comfortable in his own skin. Someone who is at peace with the world, and shows it. These people inevitably make me feel good about myself. I suppose it's because they give me hope. This record is kind of like those people. Neilson Hubbard's peace and joy translates, and while this isn't a musically upbeat record, it really gives me a good feeling.

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The Contrast
Wireless Days

(Rainbow Quartz)

parasol.com

The Byrds were the quintessential folk-rock group, adding shimmering guitars and other amplified aspects to take care of the latter part of the equation. Many current guitar pop bands follow in The Byrds’ 12-string fretsteps, yet often remove the folk essence. Thanks primarily to frontman David Reid, The Contrast bring some of the folk back in, though not by composing songs reminiscent of Pete Seeger and Bob Dylan. Instead, Reid’s own compositions often have certain melodic turns that sound to me like some of folk-rock stuff I dug in the ‘80s. Two performers who come to mind when I hear The Contrast are T-Bone Burnett, who many of you might know more as a producer, and Chris Hickey, who almost none of you will know (he was also in the band Show of Hands with Randell Kirsch, if that helps).

Regardless of whether you know the ‘80s Burnett or Hickey catalogues, trust me when I tell you that evoking them is a very, very good thing. Part of the reason that those two names come to mind is that Reid shares a vocal tone with both of them. It’s a voice with a limited range, but it’s very inviting and sincere.

And it’s a voice with enough power to keep up with his colleagues when they pick up a head of steam. The band plays with a stalwart intensity at times, giving songs tension and drama. This comes out in spades on “Cover”, where the band creates a slow moving desert rock cyclone that contains slashing guitars, forceful dynamics and a rhythm section that is always moving forward. The searing music supports white hot invective. If anything, this could be a lost Eleventh Dream Day track.

While pithier and poppier on “Mask”, the lyrics provide a cutting edge: “I thought you were tall/you were standing on the wall/with a mask stuck over your head/I thought you were clever/but you sold me down the river/and now everything is turning bright red.” The monotone bouncy verses go right up a melodic ramp in the chorus, while the guitar interplay between Reid (playing the leads) and Spencer Hart (on rhythm axe) is effortlessly compelling.

The band succeeds at the slow burn on “Charlie Grey”. Conjuring up an atmosphere that smacks of the Evil Twin of Buffalo Springfield as portrayed by the Grip Weeds, the band does an excellent job in the verses of using sonic space, so each ringing guitar note makes things all the more ominous. Lyrically, the song seems to be some sort of Brit Poe thing -- is Charlie Grey some model of perfection that the singer is trying to distance himself from? Or is he, as I suspect, the singer, who has done something (and somebody) wrong, so he “drank a whole bottle of scotch last Friday/now I’ll never be O.K.” Musically, the band again shows that it has perfected building tension and releasing it with melodic aplomb.

Indeed, melodic aplomb is strewn throughout these songs. The mid-tempo “Fortune”, a constructive criticism character study, doesn’t have one main hook, yet has four or five incredibly memorable aspects, from Reid’s lead guitar part to the winding melody of the chorus that burns in the brain. The Contrast can even do chirpy, as “What You Want” is sounds like a Richard X. Heyman ditty with added coats of melancholy and bitterness (sample -- “this house is haunted/just like you”). The Contrast has been around a while, and hopefully their affiliation with Rainbow Quartz will expand their audience. They certainly have all the requisite ‘60s reference points needed for the label. But what makes them all the more special is they have a very distinct personality supported by intriguing lyrics.

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Oh My God
Interrogations and Confessions

(Novo)

novo.net

This is truly romantic music. Not romantic in a Luther Vandross candlelight dinner sort of way, or a Bryan Ferry lounge lizard way or an R. Kelly I want to sex you (and by the way, your parents are out of town, aren't they) kind of way. I mean romantic as in a celebration of life, in singing odes with gusto and passion.
In that sense, maybe they share something in common with the work of Jeff Buckley and the many who have been influenced by him. However, Oh My God have their own musical vocabulary which makes their music in some ways more expansive than Buckley and his progeny, and, in other ways, creates limitations -- but not bad limitations.

With the largeness of their music, their ambitious songs, their big voiced singer (Billy O'Neill) and their prog-rock worthy instrumental abilities (despite only having three instruments), Oh My God's insufferability potential is sky high. Yet they rarely get to that point, essentially reserving their ridiculous moments to a couple of pointless tracks at the end of the disc (the same is true of their last album).

The way they reign in their intensity, just enough to keep it from making them too over-the-top and exceedingly pretentious, is what makes them such a terrific band. To an extent, their ability to confine their ambitions into fairly tight song structures makes them more explosive than if they just threw caution to the wind. Listen to how much they cram into "Torture", yet the song does not burst at the seams. The song has pretty piano flourishes, a rhythm that seems have a half reggae, half formal dance beat, while O'Neill sometimes adds a bit of a Morrissey warble into his vocal. The song has a beautiful middle eight, where the band lowers the volume to put O'Neill up top. Lyrically, the song is a bit precious, but the strong performances sell it, even when O'Neill sings "it's torture/not to touch her." It is hard to do justice to this tune in words, as Oh My God delicately interlocks complex parts to create something simple and beautiful.

One other track that really touches the heart is "February 14". This is a song of a man seeking redemption, having driven his lover away. He is finally getting his head on straight, and now his ex is a target or a signpost – one reason for getting better is either to win her back or win over some one as good. Incentive or delusion? The music leads me to believe it's the former. The tune borders gushing ballad territory, yet doesn't deviate into unnecessary melodrama. It's one of those songs, like "Falling Off the Edge of the World" by The Easybeats, where big emotion merits big music.

The dramatic edge in Oh My God's music also supports much more anxious moments, befitting a group whose lead singer, on the inner disc tray, looks like he is just an ‘X' on his forehead away from securing a lead role in the Charlie Manson story (without it, he could play the villianous henchman in a Western). Sometimes the tension just throbs, as on the pulsing "Funhouse Mirror Mother", where O'Neill's prominent basic bass part is initially contrasted by Iguana's high end electric piano part, with Iggy then alternating to lower keyboard noises (clavinetish) that give the song a cool twisted groove. This is catchy without being hooky. Hooks are not a problem on the appropriately titled "Volatile". This is an intense song that builds to its necessarily explosive chorus, fueled by Iguana's keyboards and supported by Bish's rock steady drumming. In the song, O'Neill explains that he's a nice guy amongst strangers, but has to go to the mat with those close to him: "But I can't just talk to you when/I've got something good to say/because I've loved and lost when I didn't love enough/to stick my nose in there when things got rough." Did I mention these guys write really insightful lyrics?
The passion invested in all of these songs means that beauty of the music is quite beautiful and the ugly is unsightly but moving. That is, until "Rat-Man", the eleventh cut, where the band overplays its hand, with a song that sounds like it was written for a guerilla theater troupe. Unto itself, it's just an oddball interlude. However, it breaks the momentum of the disc (though the Rat-Man cartoon in the CD booklet is pretty cool). Moreover, "The Obligation of Joy" and "Tom" are interesting, but not at the level of the first 10 tracks. And "Rat-Man's Confession" is just a lengthy wank.

So view them as bonus cuts. The first 10 songs are well worth the price of admission. Oh My God is a unique band, who play music that respects melody and groove, that is arty and accessible and challenges you to react. We can never have enough of that.

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The Cloudsmen
The Cloudsmen

(self-released)

thecloudsmen.com

This is kind-of sort-of a follow up record. The Cloudsmen are the main folks behind The Paper Airplane Company, who put out a worthwhile, but hard-to-find, compact disc a couple of years ago. This record builds on the strengths of that record -- a winning pop performance style and top notch songwriting, while eliminating some quirky new wave elements that, while charming, weren't essential. The end result is an instantly winning effort that falls in line with the sophisticated pop sides of The Beatles, Emmit Rhodes, XTC and contemporary bands like The Nines. Yes, it's that good.

While most of the songs are on the smooth side, The Cloudsmen show that they can rock when needed. On "Flower", Bill Majoros lays down a post-modern Dave Davies-type Kinks riff, which sets forth the essential rhythm. The verses follow the rhythm, but the chorus features a melody that sounds like it explodes from the riff. The song is about a love that didn't last and didn't seem to last too long. While singer Aaron Nielsen seems to brush it off as just a short lived affair, it seems there may be more to it than that. The fiery instrumental breakdown at the end of the track may lend credence to my perception.

Fans of Thunderclap Newman, and I know there are some of you out there, will want to check out "Heat Score", which sounds like the fraternal twin of Newman's classic song "Look Around". "Heat Score" is premised on nearly an identical riff. Where the songs deviate is the path they take when the verses are done. This song breaks off from the central riff and soars into a more melodic atmosphere. The song also benefits from Dave King's robust drumming. There is no plodding allowed when he's on the job.

The band revisits the ‘70s again on "Sales Pitch". The number comes across like a mix of Sloan (or Lilys, take your pick) and Stealer's Wheel. The song has a handclap worthy bounce, which shifts into the more intent chorus. Then there's the classy piano solo. That's right, the piano solo, that shouldn't fit, but because it shouldn't fit, it is perfect. An inventive idea well executed.
Nielsen's tenor vocals are always fine, and they really shine on "Over and Under". This is a somber ballad. Nielsen is picking up the pieces, and knows that he probably can't put the romance back together again. Yet the hope in his voice is pretty and heartbreaking. If Eric Carmen hadn't gotten soft brained after leaving The Raspberries, he could have put out something as good as this.

One thing becomes apparent through the eight original tracks on this disc -- these Cloudsmen need some breaks to go their way. There's a song here called "Sucker Punch". There's another one called "House of Cards", and it inevitably falls down (along with a "ball of string unwound" -- and a declaration that "my garden needs weeds to grow"). You get the picture. No wonder the melodies are so bright, with lyrics that are more often sad or despondent. Yet this doesn't get depressing, since the music has a strength to it that endures.

After all the post-mortems, the final track seems to be a response to the prior ordeals. The band turns in an extremely straightforward take on Argent's "Hold Your Head Up". Frankly, it's solidly rendered, but since it adds nothing to the original, it's actually the weakest track on the disc (which tells you that they have plenty of good songs). The Cloudsmen are now getting some gigs in their homeland of Canada. Hopefully this will lead to regular releases and more time to craft them in the studio, as they are capable of great things.

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Martin Gordon
The Baboon In The Basement

(Radiant Future)

www.voiceprint.org.uk/catalogue.php/Release/1121/

After his brief tenure in Sparks (with his strong contributions on their breakthrough Kimono My House album), bass player extraordinaire Martin Gordon established himself as one hell of a songwriter. Working with former John's Children alums Andy Ellison (vocals) and Chris Towson (drums), Gordon penned sophisticated glam rock (a la his former band and Roxy Music) for the one-album-only Jet and punchy, sarcastic rock ‘n' roll for Radio Stars. Gordon lyrics are witty and memorable and he has an innate talent for creating big hooky choruses.

Since Radio Stars demise, he has devoted most of his energies to working with other artists, only sporadically venturing into his own projects. So this solo disc is long overdue. Thankfully, time has only strengthened Gordon's songwriting chops. There are a few songs that sound like they could have been Radio Stars songs (in some cases, because they were originally penned for Radio Stars; in all cases, because this is the guy who wrote Radio Stars's songs -- duh!), and other songs that would sound as contemporary during the heyday of Jet as they do put against bands like Pulp or The New Pornographers today.

Gordon's songs generally have spunk aplenty, combined with sharp lyrics that alternate among spheres of keen observation, Menckenesque misanthropy and giddy silliness. What is particularly impressive is that Gordon avoids the trap of many traversing the smart and, dare I say it, clever path, in that he writes lyrics that flow with, rather than constrict, the music. More importantly, he fleshes out his concepts, so songs aren't just a joke repeated for four minutes till fade out.

Gordon and his band (which, in addition to Towson includes guitarist Andy Reimer and vocalist Pelle Almgren) take you to a funhouse world where Germans run Heaven somewhat like the Department of Motor Vehicles, though with more efficiency, a woman is told to hit her lover on the head with a hammer (hey, Captain Beefheart has already noted that "nowadays a woman's gotta hit a man to make him understand."), and Richard Reid's reaction when he's unable to light his shoe bomb is that he's "in a terrible mess."

It's also a world where the cover tunes are uniformly terrific. The versions of T. Rex's Unicorn track "Warlord of the Royal Crocodiles" and The Rolling Stones "We Love You" (which has a bit of a trippy psych-dance vibe) are swell, but the version of the latter day Move classic "Tonight" is superb. It's not a case of some daring rearrangement. It's just a case of the musicians nailing the song. In particular, kudos must go out to Almgren. He is a great singer, with a voice that effortlessly handles whatever material Gordon gives him. Almgren reminds me a bit of Sweet's Brian Connolly, another singer who never seemed to strain and had a deceptive power, though they don't sound much alike. "Tonight" is one of many effective showcases for Almgren's talent, as he immediately engages with the material.

Almgren does a great job selling (sort of pun intended) material like "Let's Make Money", which could be used at George W. Bush fundraising stops. The song is a sly put down of materialism, with a nice Bo Diddley variation rhythm, and Gordon's purported first recorded bass solo. Then there's the painfully funny "Green Finger". The protagonist buys his sweetheart a cheap faux gold ring. She's allergic to the fake stuff. Uh oh. This is a rollicking number that is reminiscent of Wreckless Eric at his best, with percolating pub rock leavened by gentle humor.

The title track is a showcase for Reimer. He gets to show off, with an array of licks that make him a suitable substitute for Adrian Belew. And this isn't wanky showing off. The oddball guitar parts weave in well with the tribal percussion. While no other number delves into this musical style, "Baboon" is characteristic of the electricity and energy throughout the disc. Whether it's the musical drama of "She's So Pleasant", which has a sweeping chorus that will please fans of early Duran Duran (admit it, they wrote some good tunes back in the day), the rollicking riff-fueled pop-rock of lead cut "It's Like It's Like...", which has a nifty middle eight in the vein of The Move, or the build up of the complete "Anyway Goodbye" -- it has tension building verses, a sing-a-long chorus, and provides a primer on how to live a short life: "don't check regularly the state of your health/spending money improves your wealth/take your vitamins and don't do sport/keep off yoga and stay overwrought." Slow suicide has never been so fun!

Even though this album is defined by these dynamic tracks, the best song may be the slow and elegant "Only One Dream Per Person". As referenced above, this is Gordon's view of what Heaven would be like if run by Germans, though it is equally applicable to corporate society. The song proceeds at a languid pace with a drawn out melody which provides the proper atmosphere for the condescending lyrics: "Your wish is, of course, is our command/just stand in line/that row is only for Aryans/this is just vegetarians/observe the customs/when doubtful, just follow the sign." This is one of those songs, like Randy Newman's "Sail Away", that takes a premise that could be tacky or tasteless, and through surgically precise lyrics, turns out funny and thoughtful.

This album is a testament to Gordon's talent, both as a songwriter and as a band leader. This is as good as anything he has ever done. In fact, I think that he has really perfected his ability to make his inventive ideas for song topics come to fruition. So let's hope Gordon finds some more baboons soon.

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