Scroll down for reviews of the latest from Brendan Benson, Phantom Planet, Sukilove and The Dent

Josh Clayton-Felt
Spirit Touches Ground

(Dreamworks)

US Release Date: February 12, 2002

www.joshclayton.com

Sometimes it takes a tragedy to get a voice heard. In this instance, it was a terminal illness and the eventual death of a young artist that loosened the legal quagmire and eventually turned the tables. Josh Clayton-Felt died of cancer at age 32, but ultimately what matters is that this record is out and that his music lives on.

Once upon a biography, Josh was born in 1967. His mother was playwright Marilyn Clayton-Felt, his father her second husband, documentary filmmaker Henry Felt, his home Brookline, Massachusetts. After the start of his sophomore year, Josh dropped out of Brown University to concentrate on his obsession: music. The Boston native and his then band School of Fish headed out to Los Angeles, in pursuit of a career. Their eponymous debut CD in 1991 spawned a minor hit with the song “Three Strange Days” and sold a half million units. A second CD (1993’s Human Cannonball) turned up the volume some, but did not fare as well with the public.

When School of Fish members went their own ways shortly after (guitarist Michael Ward would go on to play with John Hiatt and eventually The Wallflowers), Josh Clayton-Felt worked on his musical skills, improving his keyboard play and learning how to play the bass and drums in addition to guitar. His solo career started with home recordings of a number of songs, followed by a CD release in 1996 on A&M (Inarticulate Nature Boy). This collection of intelligent, unassuming pop as art-rock was well received by critics and garnered some college radio time. Clayton-Felt opened for Tori Amos on a college tour to support the album, but it never became anything approaching a monster hit.

Here’s where our story’s plot thickens. In late 1996, Clayton-Felt started to put together what he hoped would be his follow-up solo CD, tentatively titled Center of Six. He served up 22 possible songs to the executives at A&M, who weren’t very positive about his classic-sounding mellow songs, feeling none stood out as a real “hit single.” They whittled down the selection to an album’s worth of songs, then insisted that Clayton-Felt re-record them under producer Patrick Leonard (Madonna, Jewel), who was supposed to make them “more commercially viable.” Josh did as instructed, but eight months later, the album remained in limbo awaiting a release date that never was forthcoming.

In late 1998, A&M (as part of the music holdings of Polygram) got sold to Seagram’s and was combined into the mammoth Universal Records Group. As part of the merger, the record company decided to drop acts seen as “dead weight” when it came to sales. About 250 artists were dumped unceremoniously, and Josh Clayton-Felt was among them.

The problem was that, according to his contract, the label still held the rights to his music. Clayton-Felt wanted to take the unreleased music to another label (maybe even a small independent label) or perhaps just buy back the songs and release it on his own.

The label refused to let any of this happen, citing that they owned these songs for a period of five years before the rights would revert back to the author.

What was he to do? He pondered changing his name (seriously), recording the songs live in concert, or even having other artists sing these songs, just to get his music out to the listening public. Universal stubbornly put the kibosh on all these ideas - and was only semi-interested in negotiating to sell the music to another major label.

Where those of a weaker will might have crumbled, Clayton-Felt refused to get bitter. Even with these frustrations, he kept a happy spirit by turning his focus back to the music. Josh decided to re-record the music anyway; he was excited by the opportunity to remake the album the way he wanted without any outside interference from the likes of sales-hungry music execs. This would be the stripped-down sound he desired, soaring vocals up front and the music lighter and more immediate, uncluttered. He kept alive the hope that Universal somehow would soften their stance along the way and give him back his music.

Helped by friends, Clayton-Felt worked hard, even though he was plagued by mysterious back pain and a lack of energy. He consulted doctors and acupuncturists, but they found nothing. The week of December 10, 1999, he finished up the last of his 14 revamped songs in the studio. Finally, he had the record he’d always wanted and in the next week, he mixed it.

His landlady, a physician herself, was troubled by Clayton-Felt’s symptoms. She kept after him to go to a hospital for a more thorough examination. When the new album was done, he did. On December 22nd, Josh was diagnosed with choriocarcinoma, a rare type of testicular cancer. By early January, he was hospitalized and had lapsed into a coma. After learning of his illness, Universal Records finally agreed to relinquish the rights back to Clayton-Felt, but he never knew it. In the early morning of January 19, 2000, Josh Clayton-Felt died.

Thankfully, members of his surviving family recognized the one thing that mattered most to Josh was to have his music released to the world. He had worked hard on this musical vision, and so his family began to explore how to go about fulfilling this dream.

His sister and her husband (an executive at Dreamworks Records) searched for months for a receptive label, until one day some higher-ups at Dreamworks struck a bargain. Dreamworks would take care of the pressing and distribution of the CD, but the marketing, promotion and publicity would remain the sole responsibility of the family.

Surprisingly, former A&M employees who had worked with Clayton-Felt took on some of those duties. His mother enlisted fans in 22 separate cities to help with local promotion. As usual, artwork, photographs, scheduling and the like proved frustratingly time-consuming. On February 12th of this year (a little over two years after Josh’s death) this musical labor of love finally was released.

Spirit Touches Ground is proof that the third time (re-recording) was the charm, that Clayton-Felt had a real devotion to his music and knew how to arrange it to best effect. As such, the record stands as an ultimate testament to how much his talents will be missed.

While the temptation posthumously is to imbue the music with greater meaning and import, I’m happy to say this is, by and large, fun optimistic stuff, a musical celebration. Sure some of the songs do seem eerily prescient. Yet while Clayton-Felt’s interests in Native American culture are evident within the lyrics, this is a gentle and optimistic take on classic rock built upon grooving funk and blues foundations. These fourteen songs cover a wide realm of topics, from spirituality, belief, self-realization, to love and abundance and universal human emotions.

These well-crafted songs resist easy categorization, and yes, the record executives may have had a valid concern about the lack of any “obvious” hit. This isn’t typical hit stuff here - but what may strike you as merely competent at first listen grows in scope and achievement the more you hear it - it’s the subtle combination of sounds and elements that make this CD a keeper for the ages, all the more so with each new listen. Headphones are a must to appreciate the workmanship and love in Clayton-Felt’s clean production (co-mixed with Chad Fischer).

Of course the most likely musical comparison would be to Jeff Buckley, although Clayton-Felt seems lighter and less agonized in general temperament and style. Both were respected guitarists with smooth voices capable of soaring, exploring the territory of blue-eyed soul. Sadly, both were taken far too early. There are hundreds of other references one can hear among the songs, along with the standard Buckley, Beatles/Lennon and Dylan and Clapton.

“Building Atlantis” starts things with an upbeat, quickly showing Clayton-Felt’s great ability with a guitar fill, those few second mini-leads that pepper the aural landscape of a song. This richly emotional love song is impressively constructed, all about facing troubles and rising above them: “While the rest of the world was drowning around us / we were building Atlantis.” This is rich pop/rock, with great out-front vocals and impressively tight backup from Billy Goodrum (keyboards), Davey Faragher (bass) and Pete Maloney (drums), while “Diamond In Your Heart” shows more of the traditional blues/funk hand, kicking things up a notch with the guitar (Clayton-Felt can get a nice edge to his sound when needed).

A softer side of Josh is heard rationalizing in “Backwards World,” wherein subtle Bacharach-like trombones from Alex Isles are used to frame the vocals and other instruments to great effect. This is a song about dealing with being an outsider, often not ready or having things be beyond your control (much like his own record label standoff): “There are times when I cannot stand still in all of this confusion / but it’s hard walking forwards in a backwards world.”

Matters of spirituality color the lyrical world of “Invisible Tree,” singing about trusting in your own abilities, while grooving along with a wah-wah funk behind an infectious chorus. “Love Sweet Love” is reminiscent of middle-era Clapton, tuneful and matching organ and bass to guitar while still retaining its blues pedigree. This is a song as reminder, chiding us and urging us to remember to love: “And when we fell out of the garden / I think we landed on our heads / Look at us all, still so busy running and trying too hard to forget / So I give myself to love, sweet love / like nothing else, to love, sweet love / To be myself I need love, sweet love / Won’t you take me to my destination?”

Love also is the message behind the sweet poetic tribute that is “Too Cool For This World.” The soft wash of guitars and harmonies mix with Martin Tillman’s cello, making the music itself just as pretty as its subject: “Everytime you turn away, all the colors of the day reach the sky / Wonder why you don’t see them at all / When it’s only your reflection / You’re passing by.”

We see the playful side of Clayton-Felt with “Kid On The Train,” a folksy-blues treatment of the discovery of said kid, and his plan to put his underwater glasses on and his head out the window, pretending to fly. This is a paean to innocence, a celebration of the child we all should be at any age. Josh is having fun, and argues with himself as the old-timer record exec in the coda, the blues-man just trying to get in a few extra guitar licks.

“Half Life” deals with issues of loneliness and self-worth with a wonderful choral walk-down riff, and a truly gorgeous middle bridge. In “Deer In The Headlights” Josh takes on a Buckley-like falsetto in the chorus of this ballad, again preaching optimism in the face of examining a life: “just start hoping that you’re on your way to somewhere good.”

The title song is a funky tale of spiritual connection and what happens when the truth is found and the lights go on when spirit touches ground, again with a fine ensemble musical effort from all concerned. “Night of a Thousand Girls” shows more versatility, playing its blues off an infectious pseudo-Eastern riff and synth strings.

The soft ballad “Already Gone” (another prescient title) uses carefully placed single piano notes as a hook behind the cello-accented arrangement. This is a somber farewell to a relationship not working: “And you are always running to find a fire / with water in your cup / So if we’re not burning down, then we will surely be drying up / And I never thought I’d leave you, but I don’t belong / Seems right, I will always love you / So don’t get me wrong, but I’m already gone.”

While Clayton-Felt always seems to deal with big issues (nature/spirit), they seem particularly poignant as final statements. The closer “Dragonfly” is an extended rumination on life’s frustrations, and the need to persist regardless, human nature subjugated to nature: “If you want to get through to the other side / Let the dragonfly come and give you a ride / Every day you’re born and every night you die / Let the dragonfly come and give you a ride.” There is a sense of contemplation, as the song fades into the cricket chirps of a summer’s night.

“Waiting To Be” is another pleasant ballad about self-knowledge and insight, beautiful and emotional and lyrically right on-target: “When your lips move your heart sings and I hear every word you say /’Cause you’re waiting to be what you already are / and you’re the only one left in the way / Waiting to be what you’ve been from the start / and you don’t have to wait another day.” This fine reminder to live life to the fullest - to get out of our own way with fears and excuses - never seems stronger than when coming from a man no longer around to do so himself.

This inspirational musical legacy to an artist that really was first coming into the height of his songwriting and craft is well worth your time. Some of the proceeds from the sales of this CD will be donated in Josh’s memory to the Nature Conservancy, as well as VH1’s Save The Music Foundation, an organization that helps bring music to public schools.

This is gentle intimate pop with a life force and musical intelligence behind it that makes one smile. Let Spirit Touches Ground touch you with its hooks and friendly funky fare, its grooves and hushed ballads, its beauty and fanciful turns and rampant optimism and sweet melodies. Clayton-Felt’s vision, now finally delivered as he wanted it, is a rewarding journey I recommend to one and all. I’m sure Josh Clayton-Felt would agree with my closing dictum: Listen often and enjoy!

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Brendan Benson
Lapalco

(Star Time International)

Release Date: February 26, 2002

www.brendanbenson.com

The good news is that Brendan Benson is back. Six years later, this singer/songwriter returns with a winning sophomore collection of a dozen personal songs that are eclectic at times, but always charmingly unassuming and never less than a fun listen. Lapalco is a refreshing return to form.

Stories of record-label problems seem endemic to an industry unwilling to use anything other than bottom-line sales as an indicator of recognizing talent in artists. So I give you another: when Brendan Benson got word that Virgin Records was pulling the plug on the tour supporting his debut CD in 1996, the writing was on the wall. That promising debut, One Mississippi, had failed to set enough of the world on fire, even after getting almost unanimous praise from the music press. Thus executives at Virgin decided enough was enough. Patience wasn’t a part of this bargain; you couldn’t bank on promise. Without instantaneous results, this pop/rock career was toppled just as it was learning to stand.

The young talented Mr. Benson was puzzled. “I was devastated,” he said. “It was my dream - my first record. I was promised the world. So many things didn’t happen.” While critics loved him (and a groundswell of devoted fans were slowly catching on), his self-confidence was shattered. Whereas before he was a prolific songwriter, all of a sudden he started questioning everything.

“I got so into my own head, thinking, is this cool, are people going to think this is dumb?” he confessed. “Before I had a little mental audience that I wrote songs to, and they were very forgiving. It got replaced by managers and record executives telling me I’m not writing choruses.”

The resulting writer’s block, coupled with a long battle extricating himself from the clutches of a Virgin contract, made things tough. Seeking a change, Benson decided to move from Oakland, California back home. In the supporting surroundings of Detroit’s Belle Isle, Benson was able to conquer his self-doubts. He began writing again.

The results of those efforts are what became Lapalco. Part of Benson’s charm is his simple lyrical innocence paired with a homegrown musical sophistication, his love of rhymes that can make you groan and smile simultaneously, and the feeling that he operates well outside the norms of the formulaic music machine.

That youngster who once upon a time moved to Los Angeles with a tope of 30 original songs recorded on a dual cassette deck has grown some, but he hasn’t disappeared. He who friends affectionately call “the superman of four-track” continues to flourish, and there are layers upon layers of guitars and subtle touches throughout.

This CD opens with the very catchy “Tiny Sparks,” co-written with friend and fellow studio whiz Jason Falkner (who again, as on the first CD, lends a hand with several songs here). This is a fine example of the simplicity/naivety that endears Benson to the listener. It’s a story of someone not wanting to change, yet losing a woman because of it and not quite understanding why: “I’ve always been this way, never known any other way to feel / Got the right of way, and all of the others must yield / Now I’m naked and I’m in school, I can’t make it to the door.” The song sounds upbeat and catchy in contrast to the lyrical bewilderment, yet it works from the very first listen.

On the track “Folksinger,” we get a healthy dose of the fun affliction I shall term Benson’s rhyme-itis: “Every girl I made in the shade of the Esplanade I’ve saved in a song that I play when I’m afraid of a full-scale air raid from the choices that I’ve made. Every single day at eleven I’m home in bed in sleep heaven, alone cuz’ my girl leaves at seven, ain’t got time for my bed’in, She said stop pretendin’, you’re not John Lennon.”

Benson does like to make it rhyme, but it doesn’t take away from the ideas he puts across. “What” is a winning track that tells the tale of a man usurped by another, seeing his girl laugh at the same jokes, fall for the same tricks he once used. “Eventually” examines the way relationships change us, as he ponders what he has wrought upon his girl, yet still makes an earnest plea for her to stick with him through the promise that things will get better eventually.

“You’re Quiet” sounds something like a synth-driven Cars song from the late ‘70s, and lyrically explores the “misery loves company” theme: “You’re quiet, you don’t talk / You’re shut down and closed off / But you’re like me, feel the same / I’m Brendan, what’s your name / I’ve been a little bit down on my luck / I think you know where I’m coming from / I need a pickup and I don’t mean truck / I think you know where to get some.” “Life in the D” is a resigned look at coping with the hand life deals you, even if it seems beyond understanding.

This is a CD bursting with songs that seem to grow better with repeated listens. Perhaps the most infectious is “Good To Me,” wherein Benson discusses the merits of his humble yet trusty car (1980 Volvo, not a finned Cadillac), amplifier (a beat up Supro, not a Fender tweed deluxe) and girlfriend (true), respectively. A close second is the upbeat guitar-driven rocker “I’m Easy,” perhaps the only song wherein the Falkner flavor seems overly dominant (and that’s not a bad thing).

Personally, I am drawn to the bittersweet trilogy of personal songs that close the CD, perhaps a direct result of all the tribulations of the past few years and each of them a gem. Here Benson does a great job of working the home studio to get great results - a song like “Pleasure Seeker” seems simple, but is layered with subtle instruments and sounds (hint: hit the headphones). Lyrically, it’s an out-loud attempt at self-examination and explaining away the depression that makes him tired all the time: “And I’m just so far gone, I don’t know what planet I’m on / I wanna come down / ‘cause I’ve taken it hard for so long / I don’t know what’s right or what’s wrong with me.” In “Just Like Me,” Benson sees himself as a hate-filled balloon spewing about the room, as he wants to break the trend of his anger, asking for help. His mastery of guitar sounds (very Beatle-esque here) is most impressive and reflects the anger and confusion of his feelings often better than the words.

“Jetlag” ends the CD with a sort of Harry Nilsson/keyboard and vocals vibe. This song is an intimate lashing out against the whole showbiz thing, as he went from the fair-haired boy of talent (“the boy has got the magic touch and he can’t ever lose”) very quickly to one who got bruised.

This is not your typical powerpop collection, and perhaps he still doesn’t write choruses in a way that would please major label record execs, but Benson’s raw musical talent is enormous. It’s redolent of early Matthew Sweet or Alex Chilton, yet remains something sweetly original.

He wisely has aligned himself with a smaller label now, Brooklyn’s Star Time International, and one hopes that, as the wounds of the past heal, he continues to find further inspiration captured in song for our benefit. After these many difficult years, Benson proves he can take life’s lemons and serve up musical lemonade. As such, Lapalco is bittersweet, but refreshing.

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Phantom Planet
The Guest

(Epic)

Release Date: February 26, 2002

www.phantomplanet.com

There’s this odd phenomenon occurring in pop music of late. While many seasoned veterans continue the noble and good fight to get their musical talents across to the public, there arises this “other thing.” You get a bunch of twenty-somethings that are well connected through say modeling, or acting, or famous songwriting fathers and they’re in a band that gets a major label release supported by a LOT of media coverage. Yet in the end, it’s the strength of their music that sustains them once all the spinning hype dies down.

In 2001 it was an East Coast thing, as many swore by The Strokes’ brand of updated Velvet Underground garage rock. In 2002 it may just be a West Coast thing, as we get the sophomore effort from Phantom Planet. The resemblances are uncanny. Sure, there are plenty of show-biz stories that surround the cast (more on this below) - yet ultimately the strength of the music will be the key to any popular triumph. The Guest offers enough musical talent and diversity for sustained allegiance beyond the flurry of TV appearances and cute magazine articles headed your way now.

That being the case, let’s concentrate on the music - we’ll get to the other stuff later. It has been a long drink of water between releases for this Los Angeles-based quintet. The debut album 1998’s Phantom Planet Is Missing on Geffen didn’t make a big splash sales-wise, though it was tuneful and well produced (by Lee Popa and Mark Endert), at a time when several band members were still in their teens. They offered up 11 songs of mostly upbeat powerpop, with nice flourishes. It was a happy Planet, where everyone was singing about love and relationships in tuneful ways.

Though slightly derivative at times, this debut was far from amateur hour (in fact, it’s still a very good CD worth your discovery and eartime) and understandably the band developed a healthy following of rabid devotees. Now lo, these many years later, after much touring (opening for the likes of Morrissey, Weezer, Third Eye Blind, Pete Yorn and American Hi-Fi), a more-seasoned group emerges, this time aided by the production wizardry of notables Tchad Blake (Pearl Jam, Peter Gabriel, Sheryl Crow) and Mitchell Froom (Tom Waits, Crowded House, Cibo Matto, Elvis Costello, Paul McCartney), who as producers seem to know just when to step back and give the music the space it needs.

The Guest is not about pressing world issues, rather it’s merely about brilliantly lighthearted melodic pop. As such, it’s a strong collection of a dozen songs that are cleanly executed, likeable and fun. Still The Guest might leave you asking for a more pronounced direction overall from Phantom Planet - in many ways, the band still seems a work in progress, able to cover a variety of styles and sounds in the quest to find what one day will comprise their inimitable own. Yet, there is solid music here - classic rock/pop played well as an ensemble - a feat that is a big step ahead for these guys and no small accomplishment in this often wanting world of modern music.

Phantom Planet, though eight years old (at a Pizza Hut in 1994, the band formed and took their name from a 1960s sci-fi flick), still is in its relative musical infancy, very much actively in the process of becoming. As they play and explore in fields of diverse elements and references from others (often managing to master them), it never gets in the way of one’s enjoyment of the songs Phantom Planet creates.

Most of these songs rely on the agile vocal skills of Alex Greenwald (lead vocals/guitar), backed by the lead guitar work of Jacques Brautbar (guitar/vocals), the rhythm guitar of Darren Robinson, the bass of Sam Farrar (who also offers up vocals) and the drums of Jason Schwartzman. Greenwald is something of a chameleon, displaying an impressive range of colors and emotion as voice, guiding the music with a confidence that belies his age.

“California” opens the CD with a contagious melody/piano hook that you’ll be whistling in the shower. Lyrically, it’s a bit of a tired retread relating the group’s excitement about making their way back home from out-of-state touring: “On the stereo, listening as we go, nothing’s gonna stop me now / California here we come / right back where we started from.” This Greenwald/Schwartzman song, featured on the soundtrack to the film Orange County, is good fun - yet with stronger lyrics, it could have been even better.

The same duo wrote “Lonely Day” which builds slowly to a sort of rocking ska/boogie rhythm, guitars nicely accentuating and reflecting the moodiness of the lyrics, relating how loneliness can more than counter sunny happiness. Guitarist Jacques Brautbar lends his writing talents along with the other two band-mates for “All Over Again” in which Greenwald delivers a prime Joe Jackson-style vocal about wanting out of a suffocating relationship.

Greenwald penned the equally catchy “Always On My Mind,” which has a looser sort of bar-band feel to it, calling to mind a pleasant Old 97s sound, as it nails the hapless optimism behind unrealistic romantic obsession: “I turn pale when she walks by, I am lost in her eyes, she is always on my mind / She glances over but she keeps on walking down that street, all I can do is hope that she is thinking of me / If I could blink, if I could breathe, if I could get my legs to move, well this could be the day I get this girl to love me.” Musically, check out the Hooters-like mandolin middle bridge.

Greenwald’s solo compositions dominate the album, displaying a wide range of styles. In “Turn, Smile, Shift, Repeat” we get Phantom Planet doing “Radiohead Lite.” The song uses moody electronic tones and a slower tempo quite effectively, as Greenwald does his laid-back Thom Yorke vocal turn here, attacking the insipid robot-like vapidity of modern corporate culture.

In “Nobody’s Fault” we get Tchad Blake and Mitchell Froom’s expert treatment on what is a very blatant tribute to “No Action”-era Elvis Costello. This compact little gem clocks in at a mere 2:35, and it does a great job of capturing injured pride in a marriage: “Never had the patience, never had the time / never knew that working hard was such a crime / Oh I thought I could make you happy down the line / but I guess it’s been over since you hurt this heart of mine / On your mark get set go, this little boy is running right back home / I guess it’s nobody’s fault now but my own.” Any doubts as to whether these gents are actors first and musicians second, I suggest you give a good listen to Phantom Planet as The Attractions. To their credit, Jason Schwartzman does an amazing Pete Thomas and Sam Farrar manages a very credible Bruce Thomas.

“Anthem” is a wonderful fantasy-as-song about creating a massively catchy song that serves as a panacea for all that ails us: “’Cause the whole world needs an anthem, and I’m trying to put the words where they belong / Yeah this whole world needs an anthem and I’m hoping everyone will sing along.”

“One Ray of Sunlight” might be my favorite here, a really pretty ballad with lovely guitar ornamentation (and well-placed strings that don’t overwhelm). Greenwald is at his best lyrically, nailing the sad yet wonderful futility of trying beyond relationship’s end, hoping beyond hope: “If I get one ray of sunlight to hold in my hand, maybe we can be happy again / I’ll try for one ray of sunlight to hold in my hand, and I’ll guess that this isn’t the end, maybe we can be happy again.”

Adam Schlessinger (Fountains Of Wayne) writes with Greenwald on the incendiary “In Our Darkest Hour,” creating an opus of anxious desperation that can hold its own with any Strokes song. The group is tighter than ever here, and the emotive vocals put it over the top. “Hey Now Girl” is a lighter turn, starting with Casio-like electronic blips into a Cars-type opening, then into engaging Big Star/Weezer territory. Lyrically, it captures how a few teen years make all the difference in matters of attitude: “Well let me you I have seen / a monster age of seventeen.”

“Wishing Well” is sort of an Eric Carmen-type ballad, with orchestral accompaniment that borders on the type of thing Phil Spector did to “Long and Winding Road.” There’s a definite latter Beatle/McCartney feel to this poetic song and the vocals also call to mind Jay Clifford of Jump, Little Children (to cite a more modern reference point). This is a big dramatic wall-of-sound complete with electronic noises and loops that build to a sort of “Day In The Life” cacophony, almost to the point where I tried spinning the CD backwards to see who buried Paul.

“Something Is Wrong” ends the CD on a romantic acoustic guitar note, a soft and short two-minute ballad in the mold of “Mother Nature’s Son” or “Julia” (choose your Beatle reference preference). All told, this is a big step forward musically for this band.

Now that I’ve discussed the music, we can talk about all that stuff the other writers tend to stick up front. First off, there’s Jason Schwartzman, perhaps best known to the public at large as Max Fischer from Wes Anderson’s film Rushmore. Schwartzman also was featured in the recent Slackers, and will have a starring role in the upcoming film Spun. He is the son of actress Talia Shire, nephew to Francis Ford Coppola, and relative to Nicolas Cage, Sofia and Roman Coppola and that whole extended celebrity brood. Alex Greenwald has worked on a slew of commercials (The Gap, Twix), did some modeling in Europe, and starred in the movie Donnie Darko. Most recently, he also produced a song by the band Rilo Kiley.

Jacques Bratbar currently is pursuing a degree in music at a very prestigious program at U.S.C. (only seven students are accepted into this program annually). Darren Robinson has been honing his ProTools skills and tending to the band’s website. And Sam Farrar has just finished producing an album for the L.A.-band Rooney. Farrar’s dad John penned and produced a number of hit singles for Olivia Newton-John (including “Have You Never Been Mellow”) and wrote two of the songs from the film Grease (“You’re The One That I Want” and “Hopelessly Devoted To You”) that now are forever part of our popular culture.

These are the five collective well-educated Southern California talents that mesh into Phantom Planet. In spite of the various activities of its individuals, Phantom Planet remains the primary focus, a solid musical unit. Brautbar knows many people dismiss the band as less than serious since they come from L.A. and have members who do commercials and/or movies. “The bottom line is that we’re all musicians first,” he refutes. “Once someone comes to see us play or hears the record they’ll know that we’re not just actors who want to be musicians. They’ll know we’re musicians who just happen to have some acting gigs.”

These musicians went from playing in a garage to gigs appearing on TV’s “Sabrina, The Teenage Witch” and the short-lived “Get Real”. Even when Geffen Records put their debut album on hold without any promotional support, the band kept on touring and getting better.

This new release rewards that tenacity, with the band really having grown into a tight entity. You can hear that in each and every song, aided by the subtle warm production values of Blake and Froom (it’s clean without being slick, with lots of professional touches alongside imperfections that only add to the charm of the sound).

This is smart pop, with good old-fashioned craftsmanship to the songwriting and much merit in its diverse offerings, great vocals and fine musicianship. This is the musical equivalent of a fun sunny day, a sweet confection of sounds that won’t fill you up and maintains its flavor amid a bevy of outside influences. Phantom Planet isn’t sure what their ultimate sound is just yet, but they offer no apologies as they find their way.

Greenwald has noted that “what the modern pop or rock scene lacks is bands that put records out as often as they can, and I think that’s what we’ve got to do.” Let’s hope it’s not another four years before the next musical installment from Phantom Planet.

The Guest may be a stopover en route to ever better things to come, but this musical journey is one worth many a good listen, sure to delight current devotees and likely to widen their fan-base considerably. Bottom line: Greenwald and company already deliver memorable punchy power-pop, and all of them still are under 25. As such, The Guest arrives without reservations for what should promise to be a long enjoyable stay.

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Sukilove
Talking In The Dark

(Hidden Agenda Records/Parasol)

Release Date: April 16, 2002

www.sukilove.com

Want to hear about some nice Americana- or alt-country-tinged acoustic-based pop? Here’s the catch: it comes from Belgium. Really. This tuneful surprise of a side project with its acoustically rustic simplicity comes from the intriguing mind of Pascal Deweze. This multi-talented half of Chitlin’ Fooks has stepped out on his own as Sukilove for this folksy debut and it’s a wry smart one at that. With stacks of music headed my way each month (much of it formulaic and uninteresting), Sukilove’s Talking In The Dark is a relative standout, an EP full of musical charm.

To get an idea of just who Pascal Deweze is, ponder the logical progression of the following list of bands he has been a part of: Band On The Fun, ao, Dominus Scrotum, Questionmark, Helder Kelder, Metal Molly, Nemo, Mitsoobishy Jacson, Chitlin’ Fooks, and Sukilove.

Some of these bands proved less than successful. For example, Deweze describes Helder Kelder’s sound on good days as being a “strange collision between Doe Maar, Beatles and XTC.” “On bad days we sounded more like Sting being trod on by an overweight elephant,” he relates. “On second thought, that doesn’t sound so bad at all.”

In the summer of 1997, Deweze invented Sukilove when he recorded a 12-track demo in his living room in Antwerp. He gave the demo to a few friends and that was supposed to be the end of it. However, since his band Metal Molly was slowly drifting toward an end, he started to perform some new music with Stoffel Verlackt and Pieter Van Buyten. With the addition of Helder Deploige in May 2001, Sukilove became a little more electric (though no less eclectic).

Bettie Serveert’s Carol Van Dyk hooked up with Deweze for what was to be their personal attack against country music known as the Chitlin’ Fooks. When Carol and Pascal got together for the Chitlin’ Fooks sessions, the Sukilove crew was enlisted, along with Guy Van Nueten on piano, Herbert Lanckhorst on violin and mandolin, and Jeff Marinus on pedal steel. The whole time that CD was underway, Sukilove existed in the background. In fact, a decision was reached to record a small debut album at home.

In spite of such challenges, the resulting EP’s seven tracks are no worse for the wear. Deweze has a talent for writing amiable folk pop that is personal and simple, yet affecting, and makes one want more. Deweze never seems at a loss for an answer and his wry humor and attitude translate through to his music. He ascribes some of this to the somewhat surrealistic Ensor-like sensibility that comes from being Belgian.

The name Sukilove was chosen from a list with two columns. On the left side, were “good sounding but still nonsense- to- us, meaningless words” and on the right were the “big” words like woman, sex, money, soul and love. Deweze wanted to bring together a rarely used word with one that was used much too often.

“The words Suki and Love sounded and looked like a good pair,” Deweze explains. “Strange thing is, though, we didn’t know they were actually almost similar in meaning (insert Twilight Zone theme here). Very roughly translated “suki” means “to like,” but in combination with other Japanese words could also mean (to) “love.”

The music itself is quirky and casual and easy to love. “Talking In The Dark” escalates from simple folk confession into full-bodied pop complete with pretty string accompaniment. Pleasant and winsome, this is love music with a smirk on its face, a little bit cryptic and still overly charming: “Have no fear, I'm always near / I've been mumbling to myself for years / Remember when those days were slow / shop around but don't let go.../ I miss talking in the dark with you / And every single winter we just freeze away / We're like sumo wrestlers on a violent ballet / And in summer, all the girls sing / in summer, all the girls sing - Shalalalaa!"

“Box-Shaped Lullaby” is a short musical mood piece, an electronic waltz on a toy piano that builds in volume and intensity, gaining edge and vitriol as it proceeds.

“We’ll Sleep Together Again” is a genial little ditty that confidently proclaims its title to an intimate other, but never in a very clear or straightforward manner. This soft reassurance in song is aided by nice Beatle-esque guitar touches. Yet try to follow this verse: “I'll take you on a ride for days / but we will not leave the house at all / Unless you want me to / I'll pretend I'm you / And if you don't know me then / then you'll know me when /we'll sleep together again.” Still, it’s all very winning, I assure you.

On “Make Sure My Grave = Kept Clean” we get what sounds like an upbeat sing along of a song, and lyrics that contrast that feeling with acid success. The humble request of keeping the grave clean is no more than an extension of his desire to escape from the bullshit of a bad relationship. He proclaims “I’ll be safe when I’m down there” and lets loose with the hard-hitting confession that makes it all clear at song’s end: “She make me feel like a dead man.”

“White Boy Blues (Opal Moon)” is Deweze’s plaint about being treated by people like a snowman found inside a trashcan (actually a demo of his that he recorded years ago and decided to revive for Sukilove). It’s him against the indifferent yet demanding world, but always in an interesting, immediate, engaging way: “There can be such music as would kill a man / instantly / inner objectives rule under the opal moon... / Under the opal moon: white boy blues.” With vocals reminiscent of Ken Stringfellow, this is another winning song.

“Box-Shaped Melody” is a beautiful melody (regardless of its shape), played mostly on a solo piano, and joined on occasion by electric guitar. Deweze’s emotive pleas draw you in and make you want to be party to this intimate bittersweet intra-relationship confession: “We've been in better shape lately / whilst dragging the mud through the dirt / We were just talking 'bout Chilton songs / and how we remembered the words / You hurt me not by your silence alone / but looking at you feels like I'm coming home.”

The EP closes with the slow ballad of “It’s Too Dark To Dream,” a veritable stutter step of a song that ventures forth hesitantly in a world of simple observations. This is a spare, almost plodding song that seems sung from atop a barstool at closing time, convincingly evoking the bleak feel of the hour when late has already become early, accordions lulling you into a dreamless limbo as you watch what’s going on and try to make sense of it.

Sukilove is Pascal Deweze on vocals and guitar, Pieter Van Buyten on double bass, Helder Deploige on guitar and mandolin, Stoffel Verlackt on drums and additional vocals and Guy Van Nueten on piano. There’s a lot to recommend on this EP. The seven tracks come with a number of great touches: a bit of lap steel here, a plucked violin there, a snare brush lurking in the corner. In short, this little bit (just under 23 minutes playing time) offers a lot.

Subject yourself to the personal musical charms of Pascal Deweze and his wry songwriting. Fans of Chitlin’ Fooks should love this one, but so should many, many others. Sukilove’s *Talking In The Dark* plays its acoustic music loudly, but this is wistful, winning music that deserves to be heard. Let’s hope Deweze and friends will not keep us waiting too long before Sukilove’s first full-length release.

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The Dent
Neurotica

(Thursday Morning Records)

Release Date: March 1, 2002

www.dentmusic.com

Finding new talent is always a personal celebration for me but when that talent finds me, it’s even more an endorsement of why I’m happy to spread the word to others. A few months ago, I got a copy of this 5-song EP from a group called The Dent, and I’m glad I did.

I’m pleased to report that The Dent are indeed quite talented and know a thing or two about creating pleasant sounding songs that fit into the contemporary music scene and yet stand out as being delicately arranged and written. There is care to the sound, and it’s a nice listen overall.

While The Dent is new to me, apparently they’ve been together for some time now. Hailing from Fairfield, Connecticut, this trio first united in the late 1980s, when they all shared the common collective interest of seventh grade. Mitchell Linker, Jeffrey Norberg and D. Rauh (then Dan Rowe) first had a brief stint as a cover band, then began writing music.

The Dent quickly learned that nine-minute long epics about peer pressure and suicide, performed in wacky time signatures wasn’t appropriate for middle school dances, and began to refine their sound. Over the years, all three have become prolific songwriters (both individually and collectively).

Upon graduating high school, the band attended the same college where they continued the affiliation, and began to further hone their sound and develop an identity. In 1995, the group released their first EP, a self-titled effort, while continuing to perform regularly in Connecticut and New York.

By 1998, they had recorded their first full-length and self-produced CD Beauty Cries which garnered some critical acclaim, but remained a virtual musical secret overall. A few record label and manager promises broken later, the group faced severe debt and a time for contemplation.

But after a short respite, the band regrouped - more confident than ever to pursue their musical dream. As D. Raugh notes, “Many, many years ago The Dent stopped being a hobby and became a way of life. We really can't remember what life was like without it. We have shared the same dream for so long, and we are completely dependent on each other. There is never really a good time to tell someone that you want to be a rock star, but I have noticed that it gets harder and harder after you pass the age of 20. Fortunately, we can share each other's pain, then blow it off and go on making the music we love.”

The results are a very strong 5-song EP called Neurotica. The Dent added Dennis Cotton, a talented percussionist with a really long goatee to be their de facto fourth member (Dennis often still plays with other slightly bigger name acts in order to make extra money to feed his family). Perhaps this third release will be the charm that wins them the recognition their music so deserves.

These guys are active consumers of music, listening to a lot of what is out there and what has come before. It shows in the way they write and perform their music. They know their pop/rock references, and insist on using live drums to get an honest rock sound. D. Raugh says The Dent will never try to get away with drum programming: “Some people are fooled, but not the people who really care.”

Care is what goes into the five songs found here, with clean production by D. Rauh, mixed and mastered by Peter Moshay. “End of the World” recalls a gentle David Gates/Bread sort of sound, updated for a new millennium. Mitchell Linker’s voice is a pleasure to listen to, and the Jeff Norberg guitars and subtle harmonies are arranged ideally in this tale of a relationship’s end wherein things have just run their course. In a more open world, this song would find its place on the radio beside the likes of Evan & Jaron or Matchbox 20.

“Several Sides of Sadness” is another well-crafted song with pleasingly sweet guitar lines. This bitter yet wistful reminisce of another love lost, and thoughts of trying to regain what was: “Thought you might have let me go / you loved to live your life alone / Thought you might have let me know / your soft and supple smile of stone / Begged you for emotion / resign to pine my valentine / Cried in desperation as you said that you were fine.”

“Over You” is a slow contemplative soft ballad in the style of R.E.M., lyrics bemoaning being lost in emptiness (following - guess what? - another failed relationship). While the music is wonderful, one begins by this point to long for something resembling a little bit more redeeming from the lyrical subject matter.

The title track “Neurotica” is more upbeat, with driving guitars pulsing it forward, a stinging tongue-in-cheek indictment of the modern music industry, and how in spite of daunting odds, you have to hold on rather than sell out. The message here is that no one knows anything when it comes to trends: “Neurotica will stop hip-hop / So sell your stock in metal rap-rock / And pop will drop and boy bands flop / And there’ll be no more Latino / Pick up the phone it’s Rolling Stone.”

“Weightless” closes this inviting sampler, another soft sensitive ballad that builds eventually off of Linker’s sweet voice and the harmonies of the other group members. The Dent are not novices, they know how to create gently infectious songs that pull you in from the start. If the talent and sound of these five radio-friendly songs are any indication, someone should take note and sign them up for another full-length release.

Mitchell Linker himself says “Half of the joy in discovering great new music is the pleasure that comes with experiencing it with those whom you care for and hearing it through their ears.” As such, I’m more than happy to share my discovery of The Dent and their winning third release Neurotica with you readers. If you like your power pop on the sweet side - I urge you to please check them out.

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