Rockets Down the Bunny Den

During the latter months of 1996, the band Failure, hailing from Los
Angeles, began to receive airplay for a song called "Stuck On You" from
their album Fantastic Planet. Prior to this, the band had released two
albums on Slash records, 1992s Comfort, engineered by Steve Albini, a
record no one needs to know further about. Trust me on this. The much
more accessible (not to mention thankfully pleasant on the ears, from
both production and sonic standpoints) Magnified followed two years
hence, peppered with a healthy dose of the melodic.

Though never hugely impressed by "Stuck On You", I noted that Failure
was touring with Hum, a band who'd released You'd Prefer An Astronaut,
an album I was and continue to be blindly insane for, the previous year.
Putting two and two together, and hoping it added up to five and not
three, I shelled out the bucks on Failure's Fantastic Planet. That
bit of cash shortly yielded a priceless investment for me, as the record
subsequently became, and remains, one of my favorites of the 90s.

Fantastic Planet has, in many ways, set the sort of gold-standard for
what I want to hear if I put on headphones (and I put on headphones a
lot back during the time I first got it: I was trying to escape without
actually leaving the premises). Even in spare, plodding moments, of
which there are few--- "Saturday Savior", the lead track being one of
them, unfortunately, as I am certain many perspective listeners
abandoned it outright---the record is, from a sonic perspective,
swimming in freaky pools of liquid light, and abuzz with hovercrafts.

Guitars alternately chime a listener naively to a soporific state, then
turn suddenly on the audience, like a runaway train. They click and whir
in time with the percussion on songs like "The Nurse Who Loved Me",
"Blank" and "An Another Space Song". Inserted into plodding
near-dirges, they roll and tumble out like court jesters, or cats,
underpinned by the plinking and plunking of a sometimes-discordant
piano. In other instances, the guitar is hauled out to tinkle like a
music box, giving much-needed buoyancy to a song that would otherwise
become weighed down to a positively bleak state. Percussion and
acoustic guitars are thrown around like jewelry to accessorize barren
chainsaw-inspired riffs. Short instrumental "segues", which smack
bizarrely of motorcycle races, carousels gone horribly awry, or maybe
space ships, whatever the hell that sounds like, tie the songs together.

The lyrics, meanwhile, are alternately tinged with so much guilt and
regret at times that it's akin to tearing into someone's soul, then
become so defensive as to sound belligerent. The identity of the subject
of several of the songs begins cloaked as a woman. Undressed, she
becomes an undeniable metaphor for drugs and addiction. That said,
there is wide speculation and argument about the interpretation of these
songs.

I once read somewhere long, long ago that Failure were locked up in a
studio in the Mojave Desert during the making of this album, while ring
leader Ken Andrews got clean and sober. It's the sound of him drying
out. There are also songs about guitarist Greg Edwards's nightmares
("Smoking Umbrellas). "Solaris" was inspired by a film of the same
title. Not the recent remake by George Clooney. "Stuck On You" seems
to be about a hit song. And "Another Space Song" is about who knows
what? I don't care, it's my favorite track.

For all of its guitar pyrotechnics, drug metaphors, grit, mild misogyny
(the first track) and general "it's the 90's and we're so very
alternative rock" descriptive vibe, Fantastic Planet is different.
This could have been a collection of "just a bunch of grunge songs".
But it isn't. It's so much more. And I wish my review was really about
this incredible, brilliant record that was released seven years ago.

Now Andrews has blossomed from mere multi-instrumentalist-songwriter-vocalist-producer-engineer to
uber-Musician MVP. Upon the demise of Failure (Fantastic Planet,
their third album, would prove the band's swan song), he went on to
produce for the likes of Creeper Lagoon, Jimmy Eat World, Self and A
Perfect Circle, to name but a few.

Producing albums for Blinker the Star, his influence became almost too
obvious: on August Everywhere, (former Failure drummer Kellii Scott is
now with Blinker), Andrews himself did indeed contribute to a few tracks
in one capacity or another. As a result, Blinker the Star began to take
on the patina of becoming the Ken Andrews Project. His and bandleader
Jordan Zadorozny's collaborative efforts were considerable and they
turned out a brilliant album well worth checking out for those
interested.

Andrews also put out a record as a one-man project in 2000, Shifting
Skin, under the name ON, where he alternated between the straight up
power pop of "Slingshot" and the psycho-next-door-neighbor take of "Feel
At Home". This was no slouchy offering and contained several gems
including the previously mentioned songs and "Soluble Words", the title
track and "Perfect Imposter". 2002 saw another ON release with Make
Believe (available through CDBaby on the 'net).

This most recent release marks Andrews's return to his former
incarnation as frontman of a band. Thus, I cannot help but indulge in a
few observations and comparisons to that final record he made with
Failure. And I cannot help being disappointed.

As has been typical of his previous outings, Year Of The Rabbit finds
him off-kilter lyrically and the band and production on target,
perfectly. Vocally a match for Kurt Cobain, Andrews sometimes takes on a
breathy, nasal, growling quality that makes him sound strangely detached
and hostile. Additionally, this record seems also to have returned him
to familiar territory via a reprise of Fantastic Planet's battles with
the demons of addiction, minus much of the head trip. Those of an
impressionable age, those who cannot deal with, or find the subject
matter tasteless, and those who'd decry the absence of shiny and happy
should forego this experience.

Year Of The Rabbit starts off in fine form with the would-be totally
Manic (anti?) Drug Anthem---truly the only way to describe this, if
there were such a thing, "Cocaine" and "Mary Jane" not
withstanding---"Rabbit Hole" a raucous, two point five minute romping
persuasion on the evils of withdrawal. Great tune, piled sky-high (no
pun intended, honest) in hooks, riffs and nifty sing along choruses.
"She said it doesn't have to feel this way, she said sit down boy you
don't have to go 'cause we can get high again!" he yells, then
practically purrs "We can just FLY!" at the end of the first chorus, a
strange mix of glee and disgust. "Always up to no good, always sad", he
sings in the second verse, "when you're in the forest, don't look back".
The lyrics are chilling, the trap he's in almost impossible to get out
of. If the song weren't so upbeat we'd all be wrist slashing.

"Lie Down" and "Last Defense", the tracks that follow, bring everything
crashing right back down to earth. It becomes a treatise of
self-loathing, paranoia and regret all over, real fast, to a bitter
end. When a song has this particular "she" as topic, you can bet the
plot's a lot thicker than boy meets girl. The mood shifts to low,
becoming almost claustrophobic. As with films and literature, the
subject matter tends to bog the narrator down, and in this case, we're
talking stuck in Georgia red clay, on a dirt road, after a
thunderstorm. Thankfully, by mid-point, things begin to at least pick
up some speed again. "Absent Stars" is a gorgeous song that displays
full-throttle, careening guitars and also shows off Andrews's penchant
for melody. It reminds me very much of the material from Superdrag's
album Last Call for Vitriol and would probably have fit nicely on that
record.

The pattern of the album is thus: mostly strong, melodic hard rock
songs, some with sing along, harmonic choruses. The band---including
Jeff Garber on guitar, formerly of National Skyline, a Hum offshoot; and
Tim Dow, who used to drum for Shiner---pull this off well; they're a
great, proficient group of players. Most importantly, they seem to know
exactly how to round out the sound Andrews was seeking: a juxtaposition
of the icy and dark narrative undertow crossed with radio-friendly hooks
and enough roar to keep the guitar-power hungry boys in the audience
interested.

Strange for Andrews, the album's weakness is the amount of filler.
There are a few starlets in bit parts that should have hit the cutting
room floor making hay with an exclusive group of graduates from the
Actor's Studio, circa 1955. No amount of great musicianship, top-notch
production and engineering or space-age studio technology can gloss over
the obvious: better to release an EP of five really great songs as a
full length with half that are really great songs and half that are
so-so.

As a result, of course, the record is uneven. Because the good songs are
very good, the songs that aren't have the impact of sounding perhaps
even worse than they are. That said, there's no reason to stop the
record before it's over. The four final tracks are actually among the
best on the album. The album's closer, "Say Goodbye", a very lavish,
moody number, is tinged with the chiming guitars reminiscent of
"September Already" by Blinker the Star and of "Another Space Song" and
more so, "Stuck on You" by Failure, without the weirdness and twisted
sonics. It's the only time this album approaches the expectations I
personally had for this record before I heard it. "Hunted", similar to
some of the work from the first album Andrews did as ON, is a study in
the bizarre and paranoid with breathy, whispered vocals making it sound
off-center and creepy. "River" boasts a sinister, serpentine bass
line, and once again makes for some fine and interesting song craft.
Ultimately, Year Of The Rabbit is a good record marred by the
inclusion of some sub-standard material. The band is very tight, and the
mix is even. As always, the production for which Andrews is known
remains flawless. His songwriting on a few of the songs is better than
the average joe. Still, I cannot help wishing for the audacity, the
strangeness and the almost palpable texture that marked his work on that
last Failure record, where he demonstrated a monster talent. This stuff
is FM alt.rock station ready, and will probably spawn some Big Hit Songs
and gain him some new fans. Those of us who were listening to Ken
Andrews before will sigh and think "He can do better than this" and
continue to live in hope.

The Saving Graces
These Stars Are For You EP

(Paisley Pop)

www.paisleypop.com

On yet another winner from Oregon's Paisley Pop records, this North
Carolina band struts its stuff in fine form, whether it be a Brian
Wilson-esque sweet beauty like "Song For Anyone" or the new wave, skinny
tie post-punkish swagger of "Girl Automatic". The Saving Graces
effortlessly reference The Three Bs of their collective musical
education, turning out wonderful jangly, ringing guitar pop that's all
their own.

Not a bummer in this batch of five, and a must-listen for fans of the
Connells, the Byrds, Wilco, and maybe even Teenage Fanclub. Not to
mention the Windbreakers, whose retrospective came my way alongside it…

The Windbreakers
Time Machine (1982-2002)

(Paisley Pop)

www.paisleypop.com

Released April 22, 2003

Here's a band that rivals REM, their contemporaries, and was predecessor
to Wilco. Like Let's Active and the dB's, the Windbreakers occupied a
hallowed position as a southern college popscene band through the '80s,
and like those, they had the critical acclaim, but not the sales, to
keep 'em up and running as a band.

More's the pity. Here's a collection ripe with Bobby Sutliff's
guileless guitar references to the Byrds anchored by the
oftimes-melancholy songcrafting of Tim Lee. It's probably some of the
best in its genre and even the two new tracks, including one written by
Neilson Hubbard, are standouts.

Boasting not just Lee and Sutliff, Mitch Easter, Richard Barone, former
members of Rain Parade, Bruce Golden and Joe Partridge are among the
guests on the album. Tracks include the classics "I Never Thought", "On
The Wire", "New Red Shoes", "I'll Be There", "That Stupid Idea" and
"Just Fine".

In brief: An album full of catchy, intelligent, well-executed southern,
chiming-guitar pop of the highest order. Truly a must have for any pop
or power pop fan.

A Perfect Circle
Thirteenth Step

(Virgin America)

www.aperfectcircle.com

Released September 16, 2003

Positively Intoxicating

The title alludes to those 12 Step Programs people go to for recovery.
From food addictions, sex addictions or more commonly, alcohol or drug
addictions. There's a blood vessel running deep through this
album---and it's one that's pulsing to be sober and sane.

Forget trying to pass this band off as a side project for Tool vocalist
and frontman Maynard James Keenan. While he may (and does in every
interview I've read) compare this and all of his work, and every band he
works with to Tool, A Perfect Circle is no ugly stepchild. And A
Perfect Circle's second album, while no Tool album, and also not the
radio-friendly affair the first, 2000's Mer de Noms was, is still a
brilliant rock record.

Lead track, "The Package", finds Keenan in disturbing persona. With all
the vocal affectations Keenan can pull out, especially with Troy Van
Leeuwen's accompanying guitar drama, one would expect perhaps the
laughable. Instead, it's truly terrifying, as he turns from (my guess)
somewhat reasonable junkie in need of fix to remorseless psychotic.
That all of this is mesmerizing is the other surprise. The chiming
guitar is hypnotic. The story Keenan sings is creepily fascinating.

Musically, A Perfect Circle have always been unexpectedly melodic, and
there's no change from the first record to the latest. Guitarist and
principle songwriter Billy Howerdel often pens songs that are
refreshingly "pop": the songs aren't overly lengthy; some are incredibly
catchy, like the ebullient "Blue", with its sing-song chorus "Call an
alchemist, she's turning blue, such a lovely color for you", its
Cure-like guitars and its carousel organ riff. "Weak and Powerless",
with its harmonies and background vocals also fits the bill. When
Keenan isn't honing his dramatic talents and vocal affectations, he's a
fine vocalist, and very pleasant to listen to.

For the Goths, there's "The Noose", which is her halo, around her neck,
choking her, in a strange and pretty ballad about wished for vengeance.
"A Stranger" and "The Outsider" about crazy women in different
extremes; "Vanishing" is an ethereal, multi-layered curtain of
shoegazing ripped by bursts of chiming guitar by Van Leewuen.

Jon Brion did the instrumentation on a cover of Failure's "The Nurse Who
Loved Me" for the band, and so here A Perfect Circle turn their take
into a fully orchestrated lullaby. Being familiar with the former
version, this one seems strangely lacking, emotionally---as if the
narrator isn't all there, somehow. The original has musical "sighs of
resignation" built into it and this new version airily dances above it
all. It's disconcerting, and I suspect will be for anyone who knows
Failure's original.

The single most striking element of A Perfect Circle, though, is the
ability of these musicians. Listening to them play is astounding. One
is reminded of the musicians in orchestras or in jazz bands. I wondered
the first few times I listened to this if, aside from Maintaining Image,
they do anything other than Practice and Play. This isn't that "LOUD
and FAST" metal head thing I'm talking about. They're just a very, very
good band who play very, very well. To be fair, though I tend to single
him out, Van Leeuwen isn't the only brilliant guitarist on board here:
Howerdel is no slouch himself, and turns in equally riveting
performances all the way through. Both seem capable of playing
intuitively along side and in conversation with vocalist Keenan. Bass
player Jeordie White, AKA Twiggy Ramirez (yes, formerly of the circus
commonly referred to as Marilyn Manson ) is also admirable.

Though at times there is raucous, headbanging noise here, it's rare.
More often the display is one of control and finesse. To remember what
this is really about, you only have to go back to the first track, "The
Package", and listen to them pull it all together. It leaves no doubt
as to the amount of talent these guys are packing. It's the way White,
playing a very wicked and obvious bass line, Van Leeuwen with his
chiming, church bells guitar and drummer Josh Freese complement and
weave around one another during the first verses of the song. It's also
the way Van Leeuwen goes from sounding like church bells to a mac truck
being dragged through thirty feet of dirty motor oil inside half a
minute, without changing his instrument, increasing velocity or "turning
the amp up to eleven".

But, the talent also reveals itself through Howerdel and the carnival
atmosphere he creates on "Blue". Via Keenan singing plaintively on "A
Stranger", "What am I to do with all this silence?" and the
vulnerability of "Weak and Powerless". When he's in good form, Keenan is
a joy to listen to. Yet another indication of what sets them apart is
the band's eerily oblivious take on "The Nurse Who Loved Me". It's the
twisted, right wing, war mongering narrator of "Pet". And so on. At
least no one could accuse them of being dull or boring. Poseurs,
perhaps, and somebody reading this certainly will, and will shoot me
down in flames for having bought the cow. (I'm sure Miss MalApprop is
making an appearance, as well)...

Whether someone usually goes in for this "type" of band or not, it has
to be said that A Perfect Circle have released an album that is full of
melodic, oft-times downright hook-laden and catchy songs. It should be
duly noted that the band has the right to boast a roster of truly great
musicians. Finally, I have to recommend it as a should have/should
listen for the year. It's an essential rock record.

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