Mike Bennett Reviews, November, 2003

Scroll down for reviews of the latest releases by Chris Hickey, The Undertones and The Pillbugs

Walter Clevenger & The Dairy Kings
Full Tilt & Swing

(Brewery)

walterclevenger.com

Due to the organic composition of this disc, I was able to submit it for strict laboratory analysis. What does it take to make a Walter Clevenger record? Well, you take two parts Buddy Holly, a couple dashes of Everly Brothers, a hint of Beatles, a generous scoop of Nick Lowe, a large spoonful of John Fogerty, a liberal amount of Steve Earle and then stir. Then you need to add four whole Dairy Kings. Shake well and then let it cook.

Okay, I couldn't resist the cute beginning. My point is, Walter Clevenger is about as classic as any artist in pop-rock today. All of the above cited references are spot on, if I do say so myself, but there's not a single song on this disc that sounds like a guy playing spot-the-influence dress up. He's just continuing a tradition in rock and roll, American style.

On this, his third album, it seems the rootsiness and pure pop sides of Clevenger are perfectly balanced. On the roots side, Clevenger scores immediately on "Supermarket Checkout Queen". This is a boogieing country number, which tells the classic story of unrequited love for a cutie behind the cash register: "Now she memorizes all those produce codes/now if she'd just remember me, I wouldn't feel alone." This is a sweetly clever romp that goes in the small checkout girl hall of fame with Nothing Painted Blue's "Register", The Balancing Act's "She Doesn't Work Here Anymore" and Wazmo Nariz's "Checking Out the Checkout Girl".

Even more wonderful is "Jonathan Doe", which comes off like early Steve Earle with a bit of Bruce Springsteen bravado in the chorus, masking the black humor of the lyrics. Clevenger sings from the viewpoint of a doormat who lets a woman break his heart one time too many, and he's giving up. The anthemic sound of the chorus is an interesting twist -- it's almost like the poor bastard feels like he's finally free, though he's not even a shell of a man anymore.

Thankfully, it's not all busted romance. "Let Your Hair Down Tonight" is made for Valentine's Day, a tenderly strummed ballad. There are accents aplenty, from Clevenger's mandolin to guest Carl Hungerford's concertina. They all add to the gentle encouraging romantic tone. The lyric here is exceedingly simple, just a gush of encouragement, saying all that needs to be said.

This lyrical directness is probably an overlooked aspect of Clevenger's music, but he's as skilled as any writer today at using a basic metaphor to make a point. "The Hurricane" is a masterwork that displays this skill. The song is about a man who keeps everything inside: "never talk about the weather/you know I think that's a bore/never talk about the weather/until there's a hurricane at our door." A therapist couldn't state it more plainly. As direct as the song is, the music is an embarrassment of riches, from the crisp guitar line that opens the song, serving as an initial hook, to the floating and slightly psych-tinged verses to the chorus that will inevitably invite more Nick Lowe comparisons to the Beatle-y middle eight to the terrific instrumental break, with a bendy solo over more floating -- this is quite a piece of tunesmithing.

And there's so much more, from the rollicking opener "Love Don't Mean Anything", that can reel in fans of Dave Edmunds and NRBQ to the straight on power pop uplift of the closer "Radio Sea", which successfully invades Cheap Trick/Shazam territory. There's even a keyboard part in the background reminiscent of The Trick's "Surrender". The song itself is a jibe at the vast emptiness of current radio. And Clevenger is the right man to sing about it, as very few artists are as entitled to radio airplay as he is. This new album is a triumph (for him) and an indictment for the forces that guide popular music, as there's got to be a larger audience for this stuff.

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Chris Hickey
Release

(Work-Fire)

chrishickey.net

If you haven't heard of Chris Hickey, I wouldn't hold it against you. This is only his third solo recording, the first two coming out in 1985 and 1987. He also played a big role in two bands that released a single album apiece -- Show Of Hands and Uma. This means in 18 years, this is basically his fifth release (not including a punk band he played in earlier in the ‘80s). So he's not taken the Robert Pollard/Guided By Voices release-anything-you've-ever-recorded route.

I strongly feel that you will be a more satisfied music fan if you hear Chris Hickey. Hickey sings acoustic folk songs that often edge into pop song territory. He is an astute lyricist, capable of eliciting a great deal of emotion and more than his fair share of trenchant observations. His voice compliments this perfectly. The closest comparison I can make, and I've been making it since 1985, is T-Bone Burnett. And that isn't so close. So I'll just say that Hickey's vocals are a key component that elevate his music to greatness.

His first two solo platters, Frames Of Mind, Boundaries Of Time and Looking For Anything, were classic home recordings. The plaintive and intimate quality of Hickey's music does not require top flight production, and both of those records had a winning combination of intensely memorable songs (including the superb "I Can't Wait to See You") and songs that delved into everything from personal politics to poetry to trenchant observations of how people are.

I am happy to report that other than a slight expansion of his musical vocabulary and more sophisticated production, Chris Hickey has not changed one iota since 1985. The voice is there, the songs are there. Hickey keeps his melodies basic and is equally economical with his words. Perhaps one good comparison would be Ron Sexsmith – not so much in sound as in approach. There is simply nothing wasted here. Each song is as long as it needs to be. Hickey makes his point, makes it memorably and moves on to the next track.

For example, in less than two-and-a-half-minutes, Hickey (with writing assistance on this tune from Sally Dworsky) succinctly portrays the feelings of someone who doesn't want help in the midst of an emotional crisis on "Breaking": "you want to fill me up/with the time that was/save me from the fate/that you're afraid of." Musically, the song is Dylan-inspired (somewhat akin to "The Times They Are A-Changin'"), and tweaked a bit to be a couple shades popper. The verses are short, move quickly to the bridge, the melody rising into the chorus. Hickey's voice (as it is on both the tracks he produces and those mentored by Jeff Peters) is way up front, so that every quaver and nuance is naked and up front.

"Breaking", however, is "Good Vibrations" in comparison to the minimalist "Soul Asylum". Light percussion, some faint strings and softly picked guitar rest below a slightly nervous vocal. Hickey cycles through the initial lyrics, as if he's trying to cope with the misunderstanding of which he sings. The effect creates a compelling air of mystery – an effective ambiguity.

"So Many Pieces" also has a dramatic edge, with a fuller sound. There's some stinging guitar work and heavy drumming. This might be the closest that Hickey will come to the passionate desolation of some of Richard Thompson's work. Meanwhile, "Palisades" has a very familiar folk structure in the verses. But the magic is in how he folds in a totally unfolk melody into the bridge, the juxtaposition making the melody all the more striking. And the chorus is rousing and uplifting. Dworsky contributes a backing vocal and gets an even bigger turn on "Kitchen", her honeyed voice perfectly complimenting Hickey on the track with perhaps the most expansive melody on the disc.

The tracks that typify both the disc and Hickey's particular talents are the songs that begin and end the album. "Release" is a plea for personal resolution, with a somewhat morose tinge to it: "Walk in the graveyard/knowing the past/picking out plots/moving too fast/might as well give in/I need release". The song is just Hickey and his guitar, but it rests on a repetitive basic guitar part that adds to the emotional weight of the tune. Something needs to be let go, and I don't think he's sure what it should be.

On the closer, "Walking Away", Hickey is in a somewhat better place. He announces that he is walking away "from complication." Unlike the title track, which offers no musical ray of sunshine, this has a middle eight that speaks volumes about the mindset at work: "I feel good/don't know how long I can take it/man on the street/is running for the bus/but I don't think he'll make it." Simple pleasures are temporal. True happiness is harder to find.

Which is not nearly as sad as it seems. Hickey is a thinker who is asking questions and seeking answers that he might never find. His music is so involving because no matter how bleak it can get, his empathy and warmth come through on every track. Too often bluster is mistaken for passion – Hickey's measured intensity in service of excellent songs is passionate as all get out, as he uses his head to figure out his heart. This was well worth the wait.

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The Undertones
Get What You Need

(Sanctuary)

sanctuaryrecordsgroup.com

If this were a new unknown band, I would be marveling at how they had captured the basic spirit and songwriting smarts of The Undertones. I'd be quite excited. Since, however, this is The Undertones, but for singer Feargal Sharkey, the feeling is somewhat different. John O'Neill and Mickey Bradley have taken a time machine back to the late-‘70s, as this album is very much in the vein of the cheeky, energetic ‘tones debut. Pithy poppy punk songs that are extremely distinctive.
It wasn't just the songs that signified The Undertones -- Sharkey's nasal Irish croon was also a trademark. His replacement, another lad from Derry, Northern Ireland, Paul McLoone has a somewhat similar vocal tone. There are times where the resemblance is eerie, though most of the time, it's a much vaguer resemblance.
Because this is a new record from a band that is happier than hell to look back to their old days for inspiration, my initial spins of the record were colored by skepticism. There seemed to be a freeze dried ambience. It just sounded too good to be true -- The Undertones back with even more songs about girls (couldn't find any chocolate ones, sorry). The truth is, this sounds very good, and my resistance has been worn down.

The song that tipped me over on the pro-reunion side of the fence was the brilliant third track, "Everything But You". The song hits you right away with two things -- its majestic opening hook, a simple but fiendishly addictive lead guitar part, and an awesome opening line: "Who died and made you the king of her?" The verses set up the situation -- trying to comfort a guy who can't let go -- so the upbeat music of the chorus seems to be a tuneful way to soften the blow. I just wonder how long this hook was laying around, waiting to see the light of day. It is quintessential Undertones, and almost justifies the album by itself. "Thrill Me" and "Oh Please" (which shows off the thin line separating The Undertones from Buzzcocks) are cut from similarly fun cloth.

There are a few other tracks that compare with prior peaks. "Enough" is probably the closest to the chugging teenage runaway train sound that stamped many an early ‘tones recording. If anything, the perfunctory treatment by the rhythm section keeps this from being even better than it is. In fact, perhaps the one area where the band is not as good as their salad days is in the inability to kick it up a few more notches, particularly with Billy Doherty's drumming. That "Enough" works gives you an idea that the songwriting is full on.

Though the bulk of the disc is very focused on the pure punk-pop stuff, the band doesn't strictly adhere to the old game plan, at times working off things they tried on their last two albums. "The Cruellest Thing" actually may have worked well in the O'Neill brothers' That Petrol Emotion, with a ‘50s rock and roll heart beating beneath some bitter romantic fury. On this track, and a couple of others, McLoone shows off a more distinctive vocal personality. The band mixes in some more old school rock and roll on the album closer "Shut Down". The lead guitar work is still distinctive, but the foundation of the song is more in line with a good pulsing R & B shout out. It's a really good track. A bluesy structure is well-perverted for poppier needs on "Ride the Rough Escalator".

In the end, this reunion disc is neither a triumph nor a disaster. It is a credible stab at reclaiming the band's old turf. Since the reunion was such a surprise in the first place, heaven knows if this is merely the first chapter in a second wave of The Undertones. This disc gives reason to hope that they will carry on.

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The Pillbugs
The 3-Dimensional In-Popcycle Dream

(Proverus)

proverus.com

I saw The Pillbugs a few years ago at the International Pop Overthrow festival, and they were a revelation. When they took the stage, I thought they were some suburban guys playing rock stars, and not too convincingly. But by the end of their too brief set, I was convinced that the only fair universe was one where a band like The Pillbugs were rock stars (ultimately proving that this universe is unfair, by the way). I scampered to the merch table and picked up their self-titled 2000 double CD release.

It was even more of a revelation than their live performance. These guys are simply masters of psychedelic pop. And they generally stay grounded in pop, conjuring everything from The Hollies to The Pretty Things to The Beatles to The Small Faces to every band on Nuggets 2. Yet, when called to rock, they can do so with fury.

Of course, they are great songwriters, but it is equally important that they are so strong vocally. David Murnen (who is usually banging a tambourine) and Mark Mikel (guitars and any other instrument he can get his hands on) trade off lead vocals, and between them, they can go anywhere the songs want to go. Throw in the perfect harmonies (the Dan Chalmers-Mark Kelly rhythm section helping with that) and you have a band that executes their terrific ideas...terrifically, I suppose.

The band clearly revels in their retro glory, yet it's never note-for-note parody. They have convincingly tapped into the whimsy and wow of the grand psych era and that sensibility is tailor made for them. This is homage so great, you understand why tribute needed to be paid.

The peak of the album comes fairly early on. "Wait A Minute" is a Jeff Lynne wet dream. What I mean by that is that the song has one of those dream like melodies that was characteristic of Lynne's great ballads of the ‘70s – this is "Can't Get it Out of My Head" jawdroppingly awesome. The chorus is wispy and hypnotic, befitting a song that is about fleeting romance. The song is performed to silky perfection, yet still manages to maintain a quirky grin with lyrics like these: "You're Napoleon without a war/you're Australian, but Canadian born." Sublime.

On the heels of this slice of heaven, the ‘bugs then blast into the organ driven "Heather (Whatever)" and follow it with the sitar fest "Friend for the Day". This three song run shows off the all encompassing reach of the band. On the latter song, the band really channels The Hollies at their most experimental.

That's just the tip of the iceberg though. There's the epic art-piece that could have been pulled from a concept album that will eventually be reissued by Akarma Records, "Liquid Bob" (sample weirdness – "A plastic form to guide us home/I hope it's not too late/castrated crash the knife flow rains/a sin to fornicate."). Then there's a song that surely was intended to appear as an album track for the 1910 Fruitgum Company or The Banana Splits, but was considered a bit too weird, "Up and Down on Your Merry-Go-Round" ("Apple juice and Daddy Long Legs/c'mon down and make the scene/Freddie Milquetoast just had a baby/quite a feat for a boy from underground"). The rubbery "Feet First" was just made for Ringo, while "May" would have made The Move ecstatic. There's even a proggy instrumental, "3d Theme".

On a disc that contains a double album's worth of tunes, the quality never flags. What is their secret? I'd guess that this is a band that leaves a lot of stuff on the cutting room floor, shuffling through their gigantic stack of ideas, but only committing to a song once it meets Pillbugs quality standards. And all that vocal and instrumental talent don't hurt. Every number here is fully realized, which is a rarity nowadays. This is an essential piece of modern psychedelic music.

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