Martin Gordon
The Joy Of More Hogwash

(Radiant Future)

martingordon.de

Last year, Martin Gordon resurfaced as an auteur. The former Sparks bass player, and the songwriter behind Jet (the band with two members of John's Children) and Radio Stars (the other band with two members of John's Children), showed on Baboon In The Basement that his work as a session man, collaborator and producer of artists the world over had not swayed him from his original mission: to write and play witty rock and roll songs. Now, it also gives him an opportunity to plaster his mug on album covers and show that he's aged even better than the Mael brothers he loves to tweak and torment. Hey, we can all have more than one agenda.

Gordon has reconvened the excellent band that he formed for his first solo disc. John's Children/Jet/Radio Stars drummer Chris Towson, singer Pelle Almgren and guitarist Andy Reimer shine again on what is pretty much a perfect companion to the last disc.

The catchy songs are a platform for Gordon's bemused and skewed take on the world. His lyrics generally are either silly for the sake of being silly, or silly in service of some smart observations on the human condition. When an artist is just being silly, the risk is that the music will be likewise jokey and thin, and that the jokes themselves will not even sustain the length of the tune. To put it another way, if you can make a song titled "Her Daddy Was a Dalek (Her Mummy Was A Non-Stick Frying Pan)" work, you know what you're doing.

Martin Gordon knows what he's doing. First, the band pulls their weight -- the song is widescreen pop that falls somewhere between Roxy Music/Sparks glam and the drama of David Bowie and Duran Duran. Nothing is slack in the playing and Almgren sings with conviction. And Gordon milks the interplanetary love premise for all its worth, while still treating the high concept in a relatively straightforward manner. So what could have been a novelty song is a crackin' good pop tune, albeit not one that will be heard at weddings, at least until we make further advances in space exploration.

Now, psychologists might speculate that Gordon has broader father issues, noting that he leads the album off with another "daddy" tune -- "Daddy Lost His Head in a Coup". However, a deeper look at the song shows that it was inspired by one of those internet hoax letters that asks poor saps (or rather saps with a little scratch) to wire some lucre which will allow for the release of funds from the headless daddy's estate. Again, in the wrong hands, this song would not work -- but Gordon's lyrics are economical and funny. Reimer's guitar playing is a highlight, not because it's flashy (though he can be as flashy as you like), but because it colors things so well -- the George Harrison jangle in the chorus, the beefy playing in the verses, his delicate work in the middle eight and topping it off with a triumphant solo that reiterates the primary melody of the song.

Colorful would be a great word to describe this disc -- both musically and lyrically. Sometimes it's the little things. Like Almgren throwing a little Elvis Presley vibrato in a line of "She Still Thinks (That We're in Love)". Or Reimer showing for the second title cut in the a row that he is capable of Adrian Belew-like inventiveness. Sometimes it's the big things. Waxing "Love Power" from the movie The Producers is a brilliant stroke, as the lyrical sensibility of the song is on all fours with Gordon's worldview. Moreover, the band makes it work as a rock song, and anyone not familiar with the original would be hard pressed to suss out how the movie version sounded.

Speaking of Gordon's worldview, he gets to vent his spleen (and what a large spleen it must be) on "Stop The World (I Want to Get Off)". Gordon takes a vocal turn in the verses, unleashing a barrage of complaints in what might be a resume tape for a spot on Speaker's Corner in Hyde Park. Quite frankly, if the United States ever had a serious third political party, it could do a lot worse than incorporating some of Gordon's beefs into its platform: "I've had enough talent contests for the criminally unskilled/enough edutainment, entermation, casting TV shows". Almgren takes over in the chorus, spelling out the problem: "Got too much information/and I want less of it." Amen!

Of course, one of the problems with being a smart aleck, is that it's hard to tell when the guy's being serious. But on "Round And Round We Go" and "Land of Nod", you can see that for all of the biting wit and Menckenesque observation, like most pessimists, Gordon actually hopes for something better in this world. He doesn't necessarily expect it, but would like it. "Round" is the prettiest song on the record, with fine backing vocals and a soothing melody, and contemplates man's basic insignificance in the scheme of things. The softer music creates a strong sense of empathy. On "Nod", which immediately hooked me in with Reimer's playful lead guitar line, Gordon proposes his version of Shangri-La, where there's no discord and everyone gets along. Near the end of the song, Gordon gets off what I think is a wonderful line: "No reason to feel covetous/'cos everything is mine." In the context of the song, that is so Zen -- in a peaceful world where everyone is good to each other, then you would have everything. But I'll stop there, because I feel like I'm blowing his cover.

This may be even better than Gordon's first solo album. He and his bandmates are thoroughly in sync. The songs evoke Gordon's past bands, with bits of power pop and music hall and plain old rock and roll all mixed in. Everything is catchy and memorable. Has hogwash ever sounded more joyful?

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The Hives
Tyrannosaurus Hives

(Interscope)

interscope.com

I first heard about The Hives from a review by Steve Gardner, who currently contributes to Big Takeover, and used to run the excellent punk-garage ‘zine Noise For Heroes. Gardner compared The Hives to one of my all-time faves, Didjits. So I ended up picking up a Hives EP, and Gardner was basically right -- in the mid-‘90s, The Hives were amphetamine fueled rock with a crazy lead singer who seemed to yelp every word. Their energy was impressive. However, they couldn't hold a candle to Didjits in the songwriting department -- they rocked, yet needed some hooks.

My next encounter with The Hives was, like everyone else, when "Hate to Say I Told You So" suddenly became an MTV hit, from an album that the band had recorded two years previously. Laughably uniformed writers lumped The Hives in with neophytes like The Strokes and The Vines, not realizing that these Swedes were long time vets. On the other hand, The Hives were the only band of the so-called new garage rock phenomenon that actually played something in the realm of garage rock. And "Hate" was a great garage rock song, with an indelible riff and great performances all around. Even the video was great. The Veni Vedi Vicious LP from which the song sprang revealed that The Hives had learned a little bit about penning tunes over the years, and didn't play everything at sprinting speed. It was an alright disc, though it could have used a couple more top notch tunes.

Now, with the spotlight shining right in the demonic grinning mug of Howlin' Pelle Almqvist, can The Hives deliver? The answer is an emphatic yes. While this doesn't rise to the top level of garage bands, like The Swingin' Neckbreakers or Reigning Sound, this is one heck of an album. Moreover, the band finds the way to incorporate some different sounds that don't change the basic thrust of the music at all, yet add new textures, making things that much more fun.

While "A Little More for Little You" may be a ‘minor' song, I really dig it. A crazy country hop with oddly processed guitars and burpy synth noises in the background, it's a twinky number that is contrasted by a strong Almqvist vocal. He used to always sing in a jokey manner more reminiscent of Rick Sims of Didjits and, moreso, Leonard Graves Phillips of The Dickies, and while he sometimes slips into that mode, he's developed a more growling style. This really comes through in the refrain, which is classic ‘50s rock and roll with a strong melody.

The band uses strings on the lurching blues ballad "Diabolic Scheme". At least 99 critics have compared this track to Screamin' Jay Hawkins. Make that at least 100, as it is such an obvious update on his sound. The static guitars and swooping strings make a nice bed for Almqvist to testify and howl and plead. The lyrics are fun too -- Almqvist has brain washed his woman, so she has no choice but to be with him: "So what's the attraction?/the suckers sing/prolific depth/or static cling?"

On two songs, the band gives a wink and a nod to Devo. On both "Two-Timing Touch and Broken Bones" and "Walk Idiot Walk", drummer Chris Dangerous slaps out beats that owe a lot of debt to the Akron boys rhythm sound circa Freedom Of Choice and New Traditionalists. Indeed, but for the nifty guitar and vocal chant chorus, "Two-Timing Touch" could have been made all synth, and sound like a Devo cut. "Walk" is even more brilliant, mixing a pulsing Devo-esque beat with bluesy AC/DC riffing, and the chorus would have made Bon Scott proud, were he around to hear it. Definitely one of the year's best singles.

Now, these songs mix in with some basic four-on-the-floor rockers, and you can connect more dots -- hmm...a little Godfathers there, some Yardbirds there, and maybe a bit of Little Richard. And these songs brim with that Hives attitude -- their joking rock star bragging still works, backed by cool lines like: "Can't make an omelette without breaking an egg/and I can't make a headache/if I don't aim for the head" (from "Dead Quote Olympics"). The Hives deserve a lot of credit. Not often does a band justify the hype by putting out their best album. They still might not be the best garage rock band around (on record, at least), but they rock, they're fun and anyone who can do that and sell some records -- well, it gives me hope for future generations.

Ken Stringfellow
Soft Commands

(Yep Roc)

YepRoc.com

Back in the ‘80s, Van Morrisson put out an album with the splendid title of Inarticulate Speech Of The Heart. What a great phrase, as everyone uses so many words to describe matters of the heart, but so rarely does anyone get it right. Listening to this album made me think of that title, and also made me think about Ken Stringfellow's career with The Posies. For all of the wonderful harmonies and big hooks, they weren't just about being pretty and catchy. Both Stringfellow and partner Jon Auer strived to express their feelings both in music and lyrics. This led to some wordy songs that didn't fully succeed. While they made a lot of great music, album after album, I don't know if they ever released an album that was a compelling whole emotional experience, lasting from the first track to the last.

On this album, I think Stringfellow has done it. In an album that has some earmarks of ‘70s singer-songwriters, mixed in with some earthy R & B touches, Stringfellow's songs grab the ear and the heart. The most soulful song is "Let Me Do", with its bluesy guitar and slight swells of organ, as Stringfellow sings so effusively, with the verse building up into a crescendo of a chorus: "Love/love ain't something we can't improve/so would you let me do it right, now baby/let me be the light you see through/you can hold me to my word til it's true." In a manner somewhat similar to the Bee Gees in their golden ‘60s period, Stringfellow has created a song that manages to perfectly blend pop and R & B.

Another interesting blend crops up on "You Become the Dawn", which incorporates a lilting reggae beat with twangy guitar that could have come from the Pet Sounds sessions. As Stringfellow sings about reincarnation ("It's a wise child who finds this advice/first among many many lives"), the song winds into a horn driven ‘70s rocking chorus, and includes a middle eight that sounds like a madrigal hymn. In a song about living many lives, adopting many styles makes sense. And Stringfellow makes it sound natural.

Indeed, at this point in his career, Stringfellow has developed his style to the point that whatever influences he draws on are truly inspirations, as opposed to templates to merely be copied. So when I note that the opener "You Drew" is a rollicking singer-songwriter number in the vein of Don McLean's "American Pie", it's not a rip off, it just shares a similar feel. Likewise for the piano piece "Known Diamond", which fits in well with prime Elton John album cuts, Stringfellow creating drama with his melodic structures and vocal prowess.

The key to this album is that Stringfellow has effectively found a way to make big sounding music with obvious pretensions that avoids sounding pretentious. He is so attuned to his message (as he said the other night here in Chicago, the songs on this disc are about unconditional love) that he pours his heart into it, finding the right scale to make his message clear. Not everything is a sing-at-the-top-of-the-lungs affair. "Je Vous En Prie" is a delicate waltz (nice line -- "take me like a cigarette/and put me to your lips"), while "For Your Sake" features Stringfellow reciting lists of characteristics over a metronomic synth line, before a soaring chorus explains that there is someone for every person. And "When You Find Someone" has a big hook, but a mellower Beach Boys/Fleetwood Mac vibe (and another great vocal arrangement).

This is simply one of those special albums that is more than something that sounds good in the background at the office or fodder for the car stereo. This is a wholly successful artistic effort which has an age old message that is always worth repeating. Stringfellow has come through with strong songs that make the message as powerful as can be, making this one of the most resonant albums to come down the pike in ages.

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King Radio
Are You The Sick Passenger?

(SpiritHouse)

spirithouserecords.com

This album is truly a labor of love. This Massachusetts band, fronted by Frank Padellro, has gone through a few labels, playing smart melodic indie pop, while Padellaro harbored ambitious dreams of a bigger pop sound augmented by strings, keyboards, and, logically, a manual typewriter. In fact, King Radio recorded an entire unreleased album a couple of years ago that was the first step towards realizing this dream (and that disc is now available at shows or at the band's website, kingradio.net).

After you pick up this album, you'll likely want to get the unreleased one too (though, of course, the unreleased isn't really unreleased anymore if you can get it, right?). Padellaro's lyrics, which are often full of keen observations and gentle wit, and at times swoony and romantic, really come to life in this setting. It's a fine modern update on the early Bee Gees, the more sophisticated side of The Turtles and other like minded acts.

Padellero does not immediately sound like the type of vocalist who'd thrive in these sunny and sophisticated musical settings. He has one of those friendly voices that sounds good on record, for sure, but you don't think of him as having a great voice. Well, let me tell you, he manages to retain what makes his voice so charming while showing off a surprising high range which is essential on some of this material.

This comes into play on "Dead and Gone", where in the celebratory chorus, he effortlessly glides with the reaching melody, when he sings "It isn't obvious to you/I know it's over/you're dead and gone". This song has more pleasures, from Pete Baldwin's bass playing -- he plays behind the song at times, in response to everything else -- to the lovely brief string interlude after the second chorus. This interlude is an example of what makes this album so special, a magical detour that makes a fine song all the more special.

It's one thing to slap some strings on a song, or get some woodwinds involved, but it take more effort to make them something other than ornamentation. Longtime Radio-man David Trenholm successfully integrates them into the songs so they are not merely a glossy coating. Instead, they are essential to the organism. This is firmly established on the opener, "Introduction". This breathy, pretty song winds through its last couple minutes and the band takes over, with Baldwin playing a another distinctive bass line, which mixes with the light drumming, an equally distinctive flute line, the acoustic guitar, some subtle lead guitar and strings floating over the top. It is a delicate wall of sound that slowly builds in intensity before coming to a conclusion.

Now I'll admit that the typewriter played on "Famous Umbrellas" could fairly be called a gimmick. But it works, primarily because it is played -- even at the beginning of song, the typing is in rhythm (though they should have miked the platen a bit more, in my opinion). Furthermore, if it was an excuse for the way cool jazzy instrumental break, with a driving organ (shades of Jimmy McGriff) and some hot lead guitar near the end, more typewriters please!

I'm also impressed with how King Radio has changed its approach to lyrics to suit these songs. On their last EP for Not Lame, the songs were witty, observational and pretty detailed. While the same intelligence is clearly at work here, the words have been pared down, putting them in harmony with the music and letting the dense arrangements breathe. Pithy, memorable phrases become the order of the day. Like on the loping "Caveat Emptor", as Palladero compiles a wish list for life (while being careful of what he is wishing for): "Cutting the eyes from a face I remember/and pasting them over on this June or September/it's never enough/chasing the magic/skin and sun/caught in a daydream/caveat emptor/lost and I won." Still, remnants of the sharper side of the band surface on songs like "Pistil and the Stamen".

It seems that the swell of artists doing soft pop has diminished. This is a shame, as there is still so much that can be done with the influences of the Beach Boys, Burt Bacharach and Jimmy Webb. King Radio is proof of that.

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Tangiers
Never Bring You Pleasure

(Sonic Unyon)

sonicunyon.com

The past few years have let all of us who toiled at college radio stations in the early ‘80s feel validated. From The Strokes to Interpol to British Sea Power, the sounds we played for the first time in our teens and twenties are now major influences on a new crop of exciting bands. Of course, using the sounds of the past as a springboard is pop music tradition predating rock music -- think of Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys taking on any type of song just so they had new material to play on the radio.

The task for new bands is to either: 1) invest their version of a previously established sound with a passion and/or personality that allows them to make it their own; or, 2) add a new twist to the old sound, using the past as a foundation for something novel and/or inventive; or, 3) draw from a wide enough array of influences that the band is not merely imitative, but becomes fresh by the way they stitch everything together. The Canadian band Tangiers fits the third category to a ‘T'. Main men Josh Reichmann and James Sayce have absorbed so many great rock styles that were prevalent in the punk/new wave era, the way a master linguist easily learns new languages. After a debut album that showed a great deal of potential, Reichmann and Sayce, with new teammates, have honed their approach, keeping the raw energy, but focusing it into tighter constructions.

This album is simply chock full of inventive songs that evince a joy of creating rock tunes that are classically oriented, yet vibrant and contemporary. This is obvious pretty much from the get go. The second track on the album is a case in point. "I Don't Love You" is kiss off song which seems to connect the dots between the Modern Lovers and Ben Kweller. This is due in part to the artless geek rock vocals, but it's also because of the use of a classic rock song motif (with a Velvet Underground undercurrent). Comparisons to the Violent Femmes and Pixies could also be made -- not in the sense that they are ripping them off, just that they are coming from the same place.

And that place is the trail first blazed by the aforementioned VU. Their DNA is found teeming through many of these songs, with Tangiers adding a few of their own ingredients to spice things up. The main ingredients are: 1) a distinct melodic sensibility, and, 2) an apparent treasure trove of ‘Insta-hook' guitar and piano lines that they use to immediately pull the listener in. Not that they need that -- on "I Wanna Go Out", they just rock incessantly, only stopping the pulsing and strumming for some a capella interludes (something that the Irish band A House always did so well).

On "Walk Run Walk", they head into territory that one might associate with Spoon -- slinky and sexy. However, they don't stick with minimalism -- the groove in the verses is embellished with lead guitar licks and handclaps, and the song moves into overdrive, with the organ filling the sonic space and ratcheting the intensity to a fever pitch. A perfect lead guitar figure opens the wonderful "Energy Jaws", and there is a neat keyboard part that sounds like prime Elvis Costello and the Attractions.

One other band I'll compare these guys to is fellow Canadians The New Pornographers. They don't sound like them, but like the Pornos, Tangiers draw on such a wide array of influences, and makes packs each song with tons of sounds and ideas. Yet each good idea is given the space needed to make the song better. This is an exciting and invigorating disc that deserves your attention.

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The Finn Brothers
Everyone Is Here

(Nettwerk America)

nettwerk.com

For nearly 30 years, Tim and Neil Finn have been making plenty of terrific music, establishing themselves as one of the best brother teams in rock history. Yet, for most of their careers, they have written songs separately. It wasn't until 1991, that they finally collaborated on songs for the project that became Crowded House's Woodface album. Not a bad start. This collaboration blossomed on 1995's Finn. This album stood as one of their best works, as they found a way to blend their distinctive songwriting sensibilities (of course, they've always had a fair amount of common ground) while also giving a nod to the breadth of their careers. Throughout the album, there were echoes of everything from early Split Enz to the final days of Crowded House. Further adding to warm feelings the album created was the intimate recording, as Tim and Neil did pretty much all of the playing on the record.

Now back together, eight years later, the Finns go in a different direction. This album is a big production. Mitchell Froom, who produced most of Crowded House's major hits, is the producer, the legendary Tony Visconti does some string arrangements, among other things, and even Jon Brion plays on a few tracks. Talk about having your back covered.

What is most striking about Froom's production, is that it isn't striking. This may be the cleanest, least quirky recording he's ever made. This fits the songs, which also dispense with some of the dissonance and flights of fancy that both brothers like to indulge in. Oddly enough, this does not make the disc more immediate. Instead, this is really one of those albums that requires a few spins to really sink in.

Essentially, the brothers traded the simple and intimate production of the first Finn album for a more robust sound and songs that are direct and heartfelt. This album is dedicated to the Finns' mother, Mary, who passed away a few years ago, so it should be no surprise that some of these songs are about family relationships.

This can be quite sweet, as on "Disembodied Voices". The song is centered around Tim and Neil as youngsters, talking to each other while in bed at night. The key lines in the song are "what became much harder was so easy then/opening up and letting go." The song is not a mere exercise in nostalgia, but more of a look at how honest and revealing we are as kids and how we can spend our adult lives trying to get that back. Musically, the song is a pretty acoustic number, with Neil playing some banjo, which mixes in with Visconti's mandolin (and throat singing!). This song illustrates how the Finns successfully meld the personal and the universal throughout the album.

One other noticeable characteristic is the influence of classic soul music on the tunes. This is apparent on the oldest track on the album, "Edible Flowers", which was originally released on Neil's live album, 7 Worlds Collide. I think the influence is subtle on this number, with Tim's weather beaten voice handling the downcast verses, which contrast with the chorus, where Neil sings a melody that Curtis Mayfield would have been proud of. The varying musical approaches are perfect for what sounds like a dialogue between two inner voices, Tim wallowing in resignation, while Neil offering affirmation and hope.

This classic soul angle mixed with Beatlesque pop carries the more upbeat "Nothing Wrong with You". This is a tribute to those who endure, and is the most instantly affecting song on the album. This is one a few songs where Neil's voice is dominant, with Tim finding a place to compliment it. While they can harmonize superbly, hearing Tim's quaver in his high range in tandem with Neil's stronger mid-range is just one of the special trademarks of these two brothers.

In a different way, "Luckiest Man Alive" is a classic. It's a song that will be played to celebrate anniversaries and weddings around the world. This is another spotlight for Tim, with lyrics that skirt the border of clicheland, but are just simple words to declare love for the woman who takes him in, loves him and accepts him. The song is in the mold of Paul McCartney or Elton John, but with unique instrumental choices (like Brion on the Turkish banjo) that give it a Finn specific feel.

Neil, on the other hand, has a more universal take on love on "Gentle Hum". The song is a slow piano place that comes from a similar place as the incredible "Last Day in June" from the first Finn Brothers LP, a haunting yet inviting tune that confirms yet again that Neil is up there with Andy Partridge and Elvis Costello as one of the supreme songwriters of his generation. With Tim humming a counter melody in the background, Neil, in a quasi-Buddhist fashion, is pleading for peace and humanity, for "a man with no soul" to "find another meaning in [his] life." This is a song that quietly speaks volumes.

This album is about connecting and enduring, and finding love and being loved, whether it's with a lover, a family member or the whole world. This even manifests itself in less personal songs like "All God's Children" (a snarky cousin to the snarky "Chocolate Cake") and "Won't Give In" (the type of driving pop song that radio always needs), though it comes through best on the more specific songs, like "A Life Between Us", which is a sibling anthem, bursting full of life, as the brothers sing to each other: "you're still as unknown as ever/are you still someone/who'll watch over me." They don't tell you the answer, but from the way they sing it, it is obvious.

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