Mike Bennett Reviews, September, 2003

Scroll down for reviews of the latest releases by Chris von Sneidern, Maple Mars, The Trolleyvox, British Sea Powerand Poor Luther's Bones

Pansy Division
Total Entertainment!

(Alternative Tentacles)

alternativetentacles.com

Well, a lot has happened since the last time Pansy Division put out a record. The United States Supreme Court overturned Texas's anti-sodomy law, which has now made gay marriage one of the hot button topics of the year. Television has, in a big way, started to truly embrace gays -- whether it's on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy or the much less stereotypical Reichen and Chip, the married gay couple who just won The Amazing Race.

While ostensibly this would seem to diminish the importance of Pansy Division, in fact, their mission may be more crucial than ever. As Jon Ginoli has noted in interviews, an impetus for the band's formation was the dearth of really good rock and roll music made by and for gay men. The band found some success in the grass roots indie-punk scene, even though their music is just upbeat pop-rock, with bits of punk, jangle pop, power pop and Brit pop mixed in. Armed with hooks aplenty and clever and funny lyrics, the band's in-your-face directness about their sexuality was a breath of fresh air. Whether it was smutty innuendo ("Smoke My Joe Camel") or a subversive cover (redoing Nirvana on "Smells Like Queer Spirit"), Pansy Division challenged both gay and straight listeners, by rejecting ambiguity. Tom Robinson used to encourage listeners to "sing if you're glad to be gay". Pansy Division consistently goes a few steps further than that.

For all the attention being paid to gays in the media, the presentation of gays either falls back on safe stereotypes (the tasteful queens on Queer Eye) or neuters them (see Chip and Reichen – if they weren't identified as married, one would never guess). Tolerance is not acceptance. Which it is great to hear that Pansy Division is still flying their pink triangle freak flag high. So when they sing "He Whipped My Ass In Tennis, Then I Fucked His Ass in Bed", they force the listener to either recoil in disgust, or laugh along with them -- and if you're laughing along, you realize how asinine fearing or hating someone over sexual preference is.

Moreover, this frankness isn't just for shock effect, but pervades Pansy Division's music. Meaning that their songs about the joys and pitfalls of sex and love have a directness and openness that is lacking in most rock music. Though, at times, they can hit you over the head with a message (like the protagonist who won't fuck a guy bareback on "No Protection"), following in the footsteps of messengers like Billy Bragg, Joe Strummer and the aforementioned Robinson, their inherent tunefulness makes it all go down easy. Moreover, the specificity of the feelings they describe applies to any of us who've lost (and sometimes won) in love.

So you can dance to garage rocking "Alpine Skiing", a self-proclaimed dance song, describing how you can ski without any snow. Yes, if The Fleshtones did songs about giving two handjobs at the same time, it would sound something like this. Then there's the light R & B chug of "Too Many Hoops", with Jon Ginoli rhyming like a wiseacre Smokey Robinson ("You put up so many barriers/I get more calls from long distance carriers."). On "Scared to Death", the band plays an early-Beatles bounce with a jittery energy.

Though the band has such a jokey exterior, they are equally engaging when they drop the smiley faces. While there is no song as intense as "Happiness is the Best Revenge" from their last album, there are some gripping tracks. Chris Freeman's "Sleeping in the Cold" is basic and foreboding, with dramatic lead guitar flourishes. Ginoli's "Saddest Song" could have been a holdover from his old ‘80s band The Outnumbered, a slow jangly lament. On "First Betrayal" is sad at two levels -- first, the admission that "I'll cry/when that first betrayal comes"; second, that the singer knows that the betrayal is inevitable.

While it is easy to pigeonhole Pansy Division due to their overt sexuality, their music transcends genre. They have gone from a being a band of the moment, to an enduring musical presence. Let's hope that it won't be another four or five years until the next Pansy Division disc.

Chris von Sneidern
The Wild Horse

(Innerstate)

innerstate.com

Between his stint playing bass for John Wesley Harding, kicking out some interesting EPs and waxing a 1999 R & B side project under the name The Sportsmen, Chris von Sneidern has been wicked busy. So this is his first full length album in five years. And it is well worth the wait.

Since his solo debut in 1993, Sneidern's work has always been characterized by a soulfulness that is not often heard from many in the guitar pop arena. Sneidern's expertly written tunes were grounded in the tradition of Big Star, Badfinger and, at least to my ears, Marshall Crenshaw, with a real depth of feeling that transcended simple genre exercises. Over the course of his career, probably the biggest criticism that could be lobbed at CvS is that a lot of his songs tended toward slow and mid-tempo, making his records hit patches of sameness.

This is not a problem here, because there is a lot of variety on this album. Variety in musical approaches, in emotional tones and lyrical content. In particular, Sneidern explores soul and R & B on a few tracks. On "Ooh Mama Mama", featuring Kelly Hogan and Neko Case on backing vocals, he goes all out, and concocts a stomping party number in the tradition of the white soul mojo of Southside Johnny and J. Geils Band in the ‘70s. Though I don't know if either of those bands ever wrote such a celebration of getting shit-faced: "Sashays along, bellies up to the bar/too drunk to see, to blind to hear/only action she gettin' is a 40 oz. beer!" Topping it off, the lead guitar work on this track is a perfect evocation of hot session cats like Waddy Wachtel.

Sneidern's sense of humor also comes to the fore on the folkie "Horse House", which sounds like Dylan as a white-trash pop culture savant. "So I strapped on my sticks/for the journey/bad company might await me on the way/til the day I die/fix a car/call a cab/ride a horse, if you like/don't deliver my food, on a bike." Genius, clever or stupid? All three I'd say, and it's great. "Neighbor's Dog" is more insidious in its approach -- posing as a concise pop-rocker, with a great lead guitar filled chorus and verses that are as yearning as any Marshall Crenshaw composition, the song is a stalker's first-person account. To pick out the most hilarious couplet in this song is too difficult. The innocuous surface contrasting the true nature of the track is conceptual brilliance, executed to perfection.

As great as those songs are, the heart of this album is comprised of some of Sneidern's most touching songs yet. "The Ballad of Zoe Snow" is a piano based paean to a supermodel who seems to have it all, but her story takes a sad turn. Musically, this song sounds like ‘70s AM Radio pop perfection, with zero cheese factor. Sneidern's vocal is so engaged in the story, which is, like Zoe I suppose, pretty superficial, but he makes it sound so damn important. Combine this with the gigantic hook in the chorus, and you have a stunner.

On "Glory Days Are Gone", Sneidern finds the sad chords on the piano, and they are perfect for a song that seems to describe half the characters played by Phillip Seymour Hoffman. It tells the story of a loner in high school who has continued that path into adulthood. The song is a mix of extreme bitterness, filtered thorough a melody that embodies the tug of nostalgia, and it's particularly pitiful self-pitying, as the protagonist's best days may be behind him, and that ain't saying much.
Other highlights include "Take Me Back", which is reminiscent of prime Bread or Eric Carmen in uber-ballad mode, a splendid one-two punch, in which Sneidern does a great cover of Petula Clark's "Downtown", turning down the energy of the original a bit, but retaining that sparkly optimism that typifies the song, the cover then fading and segueing into the downcast and beautiful "Great American Dream", which fascinates with its poetic lyrics, and the disc opener "Remember", which is a bopping R & B song out of the Rascals/Wildweeds blue-eyed soul playbook.

This is Chris von Sneidern's most accomplished disc yet, chock full of wit and wisdom, set to songs that show off a man who not only knows the great pop and soul of the past, but a man who lives and breathes it. It is certainly one of the few essential discs to be released so far this year.

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Maple Mars
Circular Haze

(Kool Kat)

koolkatmusik.com

When you’re a teenager, you might not be looking for rock music to teach
you about politics or to aid you in really understanding your inner psyche.
Instead, you’re looking for music that, as Pete Townshend once said, can let
you dance all over your problems. And other times, you want rock music to
be a roller coaster ride, to be like Star Wars, to have a high ‘wow’ factor.
Rich Hrodmadka is still in touch with how much fun that ‘wow’ factor can be.
On this second Maple Mars record, he and his bandmates make the studio a
gigantic canvas, and they layer on guitars, backing vocals and keyboards in
equal measure with the numerous catchy bits. While Hrodmadka’s melodic mojo
is in no way Lynne-like, the expanse of this music reminds me of prime
Electric Light Orchestra, circa 1976-78. This is retrofuturistic guitar
rock.

Adding to this atmosphere are some songs with a sci-fi/fantasy vibe. Don’t
worry, it’s not Star Trek/D & D geekery. It’s just pure fun. There’s a
new version of the debut album’s “Silver Spy Satellite”, which wins major
ELO points with the faux Harrison slide guitar, while the melody bends and
drawls in the verses, compacting on the chorus into a tight package. Maple
Mars layers on the guitars and throws in a nifty middle-eight twist after
the second chorus, which comes after the nifty ‘bop-bop’ harmony vocals and
before the spacey instrumental break, where more creamy choral vocals soar
over some fine rhythm section work by Scott Halper (bass) and Mike Fletcher
(drums). This is better than the fine original version.

And how can you miss with a track called “First Chick in Space”? Well,
some bands could screw it up, but not Maple Mars. The song is a swaying
sing-song singalong, using one of those broad melodies that has served
everyone from Slade and Mott The Hoople to E’Nuff Z’Nuff and Oasis --
blowing up pop to arena size proportions.

My favorite song might be “Imaginary Walk of Fame”. It’s a slow number and
Hrodmadka’s voice takes on a nasal tone that is reminiscent of Robin Zander
channeling John Lennon (like on Cheap Trick’s classic “World’s Greatest
Lover”). The song is enveloped in acoustic guitars, with melancholy lead
guitar figures in the background, creating a chillbump atmosphere. While
Hrodmadka’s wordsmithing is pretty basic and borders on cliche, he
effectively communicates the bittersweet struggles of trying to make music
in the traditions of the greats, though there might not be much reward:
“Your heroes showed you the way/but not the price you would pay/how could
they lead so far astray/now there’s nothing left to say.” Touching stuff.
“Undiscovered” packs a similar wistful punch in a more propulsive package.
The track’s foundation is piano part that could have come from an early-‘70s
Todd Rundgren record. The song pumps away, as the back and forth rhythm of
the piano part is contrasted by the constant ebb-and-flow wave of the
melody. The song elevates, but never quite explodes into an epiphany, which
is appropriate for it’s realistic take on the difficulty of ever grabbing
the brass ring. The joy of the music is almost like medicine for the hard
knocks that Hrodmadka sings about.

As both “Undiscovered” and “Imaginary Walk of Fame” and some other
mid-tempo tunes on the disc demonstrate, for all of that ‘wow’ factor I
gushed about earlier, there is a big heart beating underneath the gloss.
Some of these songs can hit you in both the gut and the pleasure center.
What does this mean? Not that Maple Mars is going to replace Dylan or
anything, but that they have broken through the pop wall that leads to style
for style’s sake and make music that you escape with, yet also find feeling
and meaning. Having survived the demise of their first record label and
soldiered on in fine fashion, I have to be optimistic that Maple Mars may
still be making their ascent towards their peak.

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British Sea Power
The Decline Of British Sea Power

(Rough Trade)

britishseapower.co.uk

After a few singles, this highly touted British band shows why it has been highly touted. Unlike so many other current bands that look back to the halcyon post-punk days of the late-‘70s/early-‘80s, British Sea Power does not sound like a stockpile of influences (though many of those bands are entertaining), but rather a band that is inspired by that sound. Meaning that British Sea Power sound like they could have been contemporaries of Echo and the Bunnymen and The Psychedelic Furs and Joy Division, as opposed to sounding a lot like any of them.

Of course, that's another distinction -- whereas a lot of folks are praying at the altar of minimalism, British Sea Power is big and dramatic. The guitars squeal, lead singer Yan sings to the rafters, even when he strains to reach the notes (this works, by gum) and Wood pounds the drums. The music hear drowns you in passion, without getting overblown or self-indulgent. That may come later. For now, this is a great band, who have made one of the most moving rock records of the year. It is a true album, where the songs are sequenced in a way that takes you on a journey.

The album begins with a haunting choral vocal (the intro track "Men Together Today") which leads into some ripping anxious fury on "Apologies to Insect Life". The song seems to be a sea shanty as rendered by a paranoid schizophrenic. Lead guitarist Nobel provides stinging modal guitar notes, as the song cascades in a torrent of everything. Hamilton (bass) and Wood certainly get a work out, too. This song has an arty aspect to it, but any traces of feyness are overwhelmed by the rock.

After another smoker ("Favours in the Beetroot Fields"), the band segues into more relaxed territory. On "Something Wicked", the band plays a mid-tempo pop-rocker that still retains some of the weight and drama of the prior tracks. Yan's vocal is tremulous, but not to add to the drama. Instead, as he sings about "something wicked this way comes" he evinces a sense of wonderment. The song has a deft touch that harkens back to Brit greats like Echo and The Stone Roses.

Then it's anthem time. "Remember Me" is a rerecording of a single release. This is simply smashing. The song is built on two inspiring lead guitar figures that are hooks unto themselves, as the rest of the band gets the rhythm going. The roaring beauty proceeds for almost a minute, before hitting the melodic verse, a rumination on the temporal nature of existence: "when you listen to yourself/does it feel like somebody else?/did you notice when you began to disappear/was it slowly at first/'til there's nobody really there." While Yan and Hamilton, on vocals and bass, provide the melodic touches, the maelstrom seethes underneath. The chorus is an affirmation, as the joy of defiance, the will to be somebody is exclaimed, both vocally and instrumentally.

The album shifts to moodier territory on "Fear of Drowning" and "The Lonely". On the former, there is a dazzling instrumental breakdown midway, with the drums and bass pounding while the lead guitar stabs away. The latter is highlighted by the delicate drumwork of Wood. He may the equal of Remi of The Stone Roses. "The Lonely" is extremely low key and Wood finds a way to keep the beat going while adding many creative touches that make the song much more interesting.

All of these concise tunes are terrific, but a band this big can't be contained in a series of three to five minute songs. On "Lately", British Sea Power operates at full power. The song starts out fairly quietly and over the course of its fourteen minutes, it mixes brooding intensity with lovely interludes, including some pretty piano. Every time Yan comes back to sing, he picks up the energy a bit more...then more loveliness...then a bit more energy...then more quiet...when things finally burst about eight minutes in. The smoke clears, and another piano interlude begins. But then the lead guitar comes in and suddenly the band is off to the races, playing faster and faster, until everything breaks down, as it must. Devastating.

The music throughout is so dazzling that I'm still catching cool snatches of lyrics and a bit more of the general content. This just makes it all the better. The music here is so expressive to begin with. It really shows that these guys did not rush an album out, like so many artists do nowadays. This came to fruition only after a few singles over a few years. British Sea Power clearly spent time honing their craft and figuring out what it was they wanted to say. This is an incredible first statement.

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The Trolleyvox
Leap Of Folly

(Groove Disques)

groovedisques.com

No offense to her four bandmates, but any discussion of The Trolleyvox must begin with Beth Filla. Her warm voice is the immediate appeal. It's not one of these modern, show-offy voices. It can be dignified, playful, even sensuous. Her singing is somewhat in the folk rock tradition, and ‘voxer Andrew (ex-Wishinaks) Chalfen's songs showcase the most appealing aspects of her instrument. As writer Stewart Mason noted, in an internet comment about this very record, why aren't their more of these jangly pop-rock records with female vocalists, since it seems like such a natural combination.
This is particularly true when the songs are literate adult-pop. The tunes here are about as good as recent material from contemporaries like Dolly Varden and Rosanne Cash and, going back a bit in time, 10,000 Maniacs (before Natalie Merchant became insufferable) and Stevie Nicks (before she became insufferable). Everything is just stepped up a bit from the last Trolleyvox disc, which is probably just natural improvement.

So you get to hear sublime stuff like "Oregon Lanes". This song has layers of nifty stuff going on. It has a galloping rhythm and sounds somewhat like a mellower Pretenders (like "Kid" or "Don't Get Me Wrong") or a bit more energetic Everything But The Girl (back in their pre-dance music days). Chalfen empties all the guitars out of his closet, strumming some acoustics, playing leads -- counterpoint leads, including a light twangy guitar to compliment the bottom provided by Greg Dubrow's bass. There are splendid harmony vocals and a typically strong performance by Filla. The song is about two folks who almost connect. Filla's voice captures the ambiguity of the dynamic, sounding alternatively winsome and weary. On this song, she holds on to syllables in a way that gives her voice a unique edge. Yeah, it makes more sense when you hear it -- I think it's pretty sexy. This is all in support of a cool hook in the chorus, where the melody goes on a sudden incline that is totally aces. It even has cool lyrics: "Near as we can be to not quite" -- this is simply wonderful.

"Singing Telegram" conjures up a Buckingham-Nicks collaboration. The song is a slow acoustic burn. This song is as stripped down as could be, with drummer Ken Buono coloring in his rhythm parts lightly, supporting the acoustic rhythm guitar. This is top notch folk-based pop, that builds a memorable atmosphere, rather than relying on a killer hook. On the other hand, "Air Companion" is a track that uses a quiet verse-more intense chorus to great effect and no wonder -- the song takes off, with Filla's voice powerful yet nuanced, riding the soaring melody: "Are you in love?/Then why are you so sad?/Are you in love/with a trick of the light?". This is a song begging to be covered -- is anyone reading this review friends with Bonnie Raitt? Annie Lennox?
However, "Le Fleur De Lys" can only belong to The Trolleyvox. The music is a spoonful of sugar to allow the bitter lyrics to go down easier. Chalfen's words are reminiscent of Elvis Costello when he was a really angry young man: "You're mending defenses/with anti-depressants/you've got yourself a Maginot Line." The song itself seems to be an ‘I told you so' to a friend who got hitched to the high school Big Man On Campus, and now things ain't so hot. The performance has a specific energy that is captivating.

Maybe The Trolleyvox will be part of a vanguard of jangly bands with strong female vocalists. On the other hand, maybe the quality of this record might intimidate others, because they set a high standard here.

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Poor Luther's Bones
That The World May Sing Far Away Music, Honky

(self-released)

poorluthersbones.com

One of the most fascinating things about the British Invasion was how so many of the R & B and straight blues loving acts of that era evolved into the gurus of pixie-dusted psychedelia. Listen to an old Pretty Things record and then to one of their psychedelic gems -- it takes a while to find the blues band lurking underneath the harmonies, percussion and other acid-tinged delights.

This brilliant mess of a disc doesn't reconcile this dichotomy so much as it holds it up to the light so you can clearly see that the blues-psych bridge runs two ways. Mastermind Garth Forsyth has been leading Poor Luther's Bones for over 10 discs, and this record shows that he can do everything from shambling mid-period tracks in the vein of Pink Floyd, to Small Faces psych pop to stomping Kurt Weill/Tom Waits fun house freak outs. Neither modern nor retro, this music is just suspended in its own dimension.

Forsyth sings with a voice that channels a bit of Bob Dylan and a bit of Roger Waters. Though, when necessary, he can dial it down to a resigned croon, or agitate it to a crazed bellow. He also plays a slew of memorable lead guitar parts that accent, and sometimes key, the well-crafted songs.

Many of the songs are drifting and atmospheric. "Night Garden" is meditative and paranoid. The song has a spartan slow tempoed rhythm section and two lead guitar parts -- one guitar is picking strings that spell out the melody (which Forsyth wanders on and off of, while intoning lyrics like "when you're dangling by your thread/and you're all alone again"), while the other provides an undercurrent of spookiness, the leads often played bottleneck style. This song is like a stroll through the haunted woods at midnight -- there's a trepidation that's palpable.

This bluesy Edgar Allen Poe vibe comes through even better on "Here Comes the Fuzz". This time Lee Scott's bass carries the melody, and Forsyth's singing is more animated. This is a slowed down blues tune that is akin to some of the tracks on the new Radiohead album, without all of the technology. Then again, who needs technology when you have cool creeping lead guitar runs?

This misty mysticism is the backbone of the record. Other songs like the "Why", which utilizes dynamics effectively, and rocks as much as any song on this disc, and the lurching "Swooper 9" are further examples of how Poor Luther's Bones takes the menacing nature of classic ‘60s psych-rock and makes it either scathing (on "Why") or large and beautiful ("Swooper 9").

As the contrast between "Why" and "Swooper 9" indicates, this is an album that is defined by different angles. Not just musical ones, but tonal ones. Though the overall spectral mood dominates, there are other faces revealed throughout the collection. There's the charming twang-drawl of "Foggy Turns", the folk-rock strum of "Lumps" and the wistful gentleness of "No Waves in Kansas", with some jazzy guitar and soothing vocals.

Still, Poor Luther's Bones are best when things get fiery. That is the best way to describe "Vipers", with it's piercing lead guitar and throbbing rhythm. The song explodes in the chorus, as Forsyth rants along to his own Eastern modal guitar parts. It's a collision of Those Bastard Souls and Outrageous Cherry, with Richard Thompson on lead guitar. "Henry Hite" is more traditional psych-pop, telling the tale of the titular titan (Henry Hite, the giant...get it?). The chorus is sold by Forsyth's passionate vocal. Whimsy in a grim fashion.

And littered about are sloppy drunken tunes in the Weil/Waits mode that I mentioned above. Songs like "Orangatango" and "Weak Knees" add another dimension that gives this album breadth. Also adding to the proceedings is the solid production. Forsyth knows when the mix needs to be clear, does a great job of separating the lead guitar parts and also has a good feel for letting everything overload into a maelstrom.
I have no idea how well known these guys are. Regardless, they need to be better known. Forsyth and his bandmates have an organic feel for the blues and psych stuff that makes this disc stand out.

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