08th May2012

Album Reviews: Heavy Cream – Super Treatment

by Ryan

Welcome, welcome. You have just come to the next stop on Ty Segall‘s wondrous music-filled tour of 2012! Our first stop was not too long ago with his album Hair, released with songwriting partner White Fence. Now we have another record that longs to capture the whole garage skronk ethos which Segall specializes in producing. No, not Slaughterhouse; that comes out late next month. This LP finds Segall instrumentally uninvolved and instead seats him in the actual chair of the producer. This is Super Treatment, the new wax from Infinity Cat affiliates Heavy Cream.

Listen to “John Johnny”

The Pros:

If you love hearing chicks kick ass, this is a great example. In fact, this group works like the opposite of a stereotype: three chicks and a dude ON BASS. Unheard of, right? Anyways, the science behind Super Treatment consists of twelve blisteringly heavy tracks featuring vocalist Jessica McFarland at her screechiest and most spiteful. In “John Johnny,” she refuses to point the finger at her titular main squeeze for cheating and rather threatens any other bitches who want or have had a piece. Other songs like “Prison Shanks,” which muses around the idea of jail being an adaptable environment conveys the essence of Heavy Cream; a leather-wearing pack of fierce, too-cool-for-school she-rockers.

The Cons:

Yes, here we have it. Another heavy, tape-hissy re-imagination of retro garage rock. As a writer, I am getting the inkling that these reviews are starting to sound the same. Thee Oh Sees, Uncle Bad Touch, Ty Segall & White Fence; seriously, has the beach rock revival exhausted itself? Obviously that is false, as Best Coast will be releasing their new album a week from today. The point is that all those aforementioned groups (minus Best Coast, of course) have been getting ahead in the “race” if you wish to call it that. The past two years were thickly coated with a new, often irritatingly forced take on surf pop. It was an exploding fad, as opposed to this garage stuff which never really blew up, but was more of an underlying and continuous effort.

When emulating sounds that go further than just a genre, but an era specifically, (much like indie surf), coming off as forced is an easy feat, and often an unintentional one. What is more apparent on Super Treatment than any other garage album I’ve taken a look at in the last year is that the retro sounding genre in question is more than capable of sounding mistakably strained. Heavy Cream’s biggest problem is that they put way too much elbow grease into the fuzziness and simplicity of their tunes. Whereas bands I have looked at such as Thee Oh Sees have taken the style and transformed it into something weird, wonderful, and enduringly unique; this quartet amps up the grit and lessens the quality. Worst yet, it all seems pointless. Production tricks/methods such as this only go as far as veiling songs for what they really are, and what lies at this album’s core is a bunch of mediocre, rehashed punk songs.

The Verdict:

For the genre’s sake, I really hope this isn’t the beginning of some terrible downfall for retro garage. It’s a specificity in music that many listeners have come to enjoy, and if it becomes redundant like Super Treatment, then it is a sad day. Heavy Cream are by no means a faulted band; they deserve their spot on Infinity Cat’s excellent roster. Either Ty Segall got way too indulgent during the recording process or this is truly an honest misstep. Whichever path landed them with this album, it remains a disappointment nonetheless.

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13th Apr2012

Album Reviews: Terrible Feelings – Shadows

by Ryan

Terrible Feelings are a group full of Swedish pop-punking hopefuls. That is, they are in hopes that they can make a dent in the music scene by sticking their neck out in the states, as tour dates are to be expected this summer. Not to mention, all of their lyrics are sung completely in English. You could then again defer that their nature is not one born out of hopefulness. Without a proper LP to their name, these Swedes have already established a gloom and doom persona by means of a couple 7-inches, an EP, and a demo. Deranged Records will be doing them the honor of releasing their debut full length, Shadows.

Listen to “Intruders”

The Pros:

The band did quite the job of keeping it cohesive on this record. Cohesiveness is a surefire way of making an album settle in easily; it makes the songs feel at peace with each other, and the listener gets the ultimate sense of what Terrible Feelings are trying to convey here. No positivity and horrible fortune regarding personal interactions and universal truths would definitely be the thesis statement that Shadows reiterates with the use of Gang Of Four-style bass lines and Manuela Iwansson’s distressed vocals.

The Cons:

Now, if you’ll notice, the “pro” listed above is about as stone cold objective as it gets. So objective in fact, that it has zero relevancy to the enjoyability or quality of Terrible Feelings’ music. Sure, this album may be a giant cohesive unit of sorrow, but it’s no good if the material that binds it together is junk. This may not be anywhere near the body of modern-day “emo” music, but it resonates with a whininess that is far greater than such. Even before the end of “Days To Come,” the opener, your ears will have had enough of Manuela’s singing, (or complaining).

Terrible Feelings actually play a trick on us by presenting themselves as a product of post-punk culture. The sound is only halfway there, and the subject matter is a lengthy stretch from stalwarts of the original genre. Gang Of Four rattled off about the bitter unrequitedness of love, whereas Iwansson’s goal is to shame the mere prospect of love by claiming that it doesn’t exist in true form and never will. A notion so profound commands the right to some backing up; (i.e. the humorous but lyrically potent “Anthrax” by Gang Of Four). Iwansson eschews any reasoning to her argument and instead proposes her personal life as proof as to why nothing ever works out right.

Excavating deeper into Shadows, it becomes apparent that the songstress is a feminist to the extent that all men are… evil? Once again, this is another bold claim, but “Darkness Of Man” confirms it. As Manuela croons about said darkness of the beast with x and y chromosomes, “…consuming our souls as it procreates,” you have to consider the roles of Andy Dahlström and Anton Collinder; drums and guitars, respectively. Would Iwansson even have music to sing along with were it not for this horrific, gaping maw that is… MAN?

Delving any further will only result in increased frustration. “Lady Luck” is this pathetic “joke’s on you!” piece on how Manuela scoffs at anyone who believes in good luck being an intrinsic ideal. “Shadows Follow Me,” the album’s namesake track, is a bombastic overkill of how everything sucks and things that suck and how things that suck won’t change because they are things that suck. To boot, the instrumental portion of Terrible Feelings is an utter bore. Don’t bet on anything exciting or the slightest bit out of the ordinary. The transition from “Lady Luck” to the subsequent “Another Night” does not require any metaphor or lush description as to why it’s awful. Simply put, the group thought it best to take two songs in the exact same minor key with nearly identical chord changes and place them in succession on the album. That way, people know that what they’re listening to is uncreative and embarrassing.

The Verdict:

Uncommonly do albums like this one get your goat. In Manuela’s mind, her lyrics are earth-shatteringly wise, and yet, so deft that most, (especially men), do not catch their dour, bleak meaning. Well, we’ve caught it, and it is as aggravating as an ingrown hair. Shadows contains the gutsy scribblings of an overly paranoid girl’s diary that lives on conviction and not afterthought, and no one wants to hear that.

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02nd Apr2012

Album Reviews: Screaming Females – Ugly

by Ryan

Screaming Females have been causing quite the buzz for the last couple of years with albums such as Castle Talk and Power Move. The group from New Jersey is unintentionally restoring brute meaning to the long-forgotten term “power trio.” Equipped with a drummer and bassist, the fiery, rocketing force and head screaming female in question is guitarist/vocalist Marissa Paternoster. In appearance, she seems to be a timid, petite girl with an adorable bowl cut. Through speakers, she raises hell as a shredding goddess, with a voice that cries out as the hypothetical lovechild of Mary Timony and Johnny Rotten. Their latest release, Ugly, is recorded by musical engineer guru Steve Albini.

Listen to “It All Means Nothing”

The way Marissa treats her cats is fittingly ugly, indeed.

The Pros:

The leadoff track “It All Means Nothing” kicks a tremendous amount of ass. For those of you who are ’90s indie rock nostalgists, all it will take is this song to harken back to the golden age. Think Archers Of Loaf or Superchunk, but with sicker guitar solos. What makes Paternoster such a thrilling guitarist is her ability to wrangle such complex licks while maintaining structure by singing overtop the melody. The Police are arguably one of the best bands to make more than due with the guitar/bass/drums or “power trio” formula. Whereas Sting balanced dribbling, confusingly syncopated bass lines with vocals; Paternoster fills the same role now with the Screaming Females, substituting in a six string, of course.

The Cons:

Fourteen songs is quite a lengthy list, especially when the average duration of each tune is somewhere around the three-and-a-half-minute mark. Frankly, that isn’t a problem, as long as an artist uses their time wisely. There are excellent, indie rocking jams that inhibit this record, like the nihilistic “It All Means Nothing,” the wounded, but still marching “Crow’s Nest,” and “Leave It All Up To Me.” It isn’t to say that the Females are without passion in their performance. Would Jarrett Dougherty pound so roughly on his skins if he didn’t mean it? Would King Mike strum viciously at his double and triple stops if he didn’t think every note counted?

This band obviously gives way too much of a damn about their songwriting for Ugly to be a “disappointment.” Each track writhes with sweat and guts. The tragedy is that about half of them fall flat as a result of either boring or overly familiar composition. Although there is no room to judge this specific of a matter unless you hear it from a member first hand, the music gives off the impression that only half of it was truly inspired work. Focus is distributed equally amongst this album, but sadly, a lot of songs do not have a mark to hit in the first place.

The Verdict:

Ugly is an unavoidable downer, mainly because of this young band’s potential. Screaming Females are rowdy, raucous, and talented. Their capability should leave no eyebrow raised, as artists are entitled to a misstep here and there. After listening to the new LP, you will greet a reluctantly blasé sigh, shrugging off the thought of how exponentially better it could have been were it just an EP, keeping only the tight tracks. Unfortunately, this album is home to a lot of inadvertent filler.

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27th Mar2012

Album Reviews: La Sera – Sees The Light

by Ryan

La Sera is the moniker of Katy Goodman, (or “Kickball Katy”), of Vivian Girls fame. The work of this multi-instrumentalist and singer apart from the Vivian Girls abandons most of their in-your-face attitude and heads for the fields of dream pop; much in the same vein as Best Coast. It is a noticeable departure from the elite scuzz-rocking that goes on in most bands affiliated with her band’s previous label, In The Red. Hardly Art is seeing the release of Katy’s sophomore solo effort, Sees The Light.

Listen to “Please Be My Third Eye”

The Pros:

In a time where beach music is all the rage, Katy does away with a lot of its irritating qualities right off the bat. The reverb knob isn’t turned ALL THE WAY up, and the guitars even provide a good portion of the melody without stealing the songs’ entireties. Another cool thing is the departure from Vivian Girls itself. Firstly, it’s distinguishable. So many artists suffer us with lackluster solo efforts that even if written well, still do not differentiate in comparison to their work with the previous project. Jack White is a staple of this trait and will most likely continue to be, because no matter what outfit he chooses to produce music with, it will always serve as an outlet for his signature, bluesy stylings. Secondly, La Sera answers the question presented by this problem: What made you decide to record these songs separate from your original bearings? It’s clear after hearing a sample of “Real Boy” that she’s working in a completely different train of thought and that these tunes had to be carried out in a different fashion under another name.

The Cons:

Best Coast is difficult to handle in its own right, but Sees The Light doesn’t fall far from the tree. This dreamy, beach-type rock revival is such a finicky genre to approach because of its offensively fake and dorky game players. One of the most notable is Best Coast, whose sole album features California crooner Bethany Cosentino filling up an LP’s worth of songs about her cat, weed, and unrequited love; all transposed over some effortlessly composed guitar chords with the reverb kicked up to 11. Katy’s new album centers on the third matter, and only that. Literally, brace yourself for nothing but songs about breaking up, wanting to break up, wanting to be in love with a new man, and other permutations of the sort that went unmentioned.

Goodman gets hard to believe on “Break My Heart” when she sings the line “I’ve been bad, but I know you have no proof” in a lightly playful, spunky manner that resembles an inflexible Debbie Harry. If you’ve really been bad, then why don’t I believe it? There isn’t much more to say that can get the point across about her lyricism here. Tennis, a relatively good band who dabble in the surf rock realm, fell way short on word choice for their debut, Cape Dory. All the catchiness and good vibes were present, but they really could have shut up about being away at sea rather than paint the record with that notion. Likewise, Le Sera doesn’t need to force feed us tale after tale about boys, boys, boys.

The Verdict:

Goodman definitely has a knack for crafting infectious tunes while playing it solitary, but Sees The Light ultimately gets bogged down by all of her daydreamy thoughts on loving relationships and their frequently changing nature. At best, this is a more bearable version of Crazy For You. Keep listening to Vivian Girls, and be thankful that Katy’s talents lie first and foremost with them.

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02nd Feb2012

Album Reviews: Golden Calves – Money Band + Century Band

by Ryan

James Jackson Toth is the culprit behind the musical endeavor Golden Calves, which is seemingly his creative epithet for which to mark any and all basement-style four track recordings and sound collages. This LP set is a blast from the past so to speak, as this material was all originally released around 1996 to a very selective audience. Toth has found good company in Woodsist Records to reissue his early work in the form of two records; the Money Band LP and the Century Band 12″. Today, James performs music under the moniker Wooden Wand, a name that you readers may be a tad more familiar with. But for now, let’s see how his widely unheard beginnings stand the test of sixteen years.

Listen to “Mod Bacteria”

The Pros:

I cannot help but snicker at this section’s heading. Truthfully, there is nothing “pro” about this album set. I know, right? Twenty songs, all of varying length, and not one of them holds any benefit from listening. It is simply confounding how anti-good this release is. This practically defines… well, hold on. There is the below section reserved for talking about this sort of thing. My apologies.

The Cons:

Upon reading the liner notes, a lot can be revealed to you that you probably already assumed. Here are the selected quotations from Mr. Toth that for him, detrimentally makes it easier for readers to hate this music he made some odd years ago. He states the following: “I was taking drugs. I bought a four track and began emulating my heroes.” Much later, he closes with: “These are not perfect records. But fuck it, man. I was hopelessly arrogant then and remain so today. Why else would I greenlight this fucking thing?”

…no kidding. You see, it takes an insurmountable level of arrogance to put out music that is this terrible and market it. The boot fits perfectly for Toth because he has actually done so. He might as well be the most arrogant person to grace indie rock. It’s difficult to read those liner notes prior to listening and think you’re going to be in for a treat. The only treat that you are in for is some drugged-out eighteen-year-old returning to his room day after day to record and track over his awful ideas for “songs” that could very well constitute as the auditory equivalent to meaningless and pretentious performance art.

You could huff, snort, and smoke away years of your young adult life, but the gaul required to pass Money Band and Century Band off as worthy of listening is hard to come by. These twenty unrelenting tracks feature James with his acoustic guitar primarily, along with any other noisemakers he unfortunately was able to get his hands on. That is about as eloquently put as it gets, because in essence, this set of records contains fifty minutes of Toth fucking around and thinking it’s brilliant.

Brilliance is a trait that goes far past the point of ostracization with Golden Calves, though. That ship has sailed, far into the Bermuda Triangle and never to return. You can tell something is wrong when the titles of his songs are more complex than the songs themselves. To give an example, “Consciousness For Juju (Negotiating The Plastic Infant Reel)” sounds incredible at its mention. However, it’s just Toth picking sluggishly over the same four ugly-sounding notes for four-and-a-half minutes. Oh, I forgot to mention, there’s a lot of screechy, manipulated tape hiss in the background. It provides for some really abysmal ambience. The remaining nineteen follow suit. Toth sings on maybe 70% of the songs, and anything else is just a ridiculous mess of sound. On “The Hangman’s Hideous Son,” James can be heard playing the Polaroid camera.

The Verdict:

If it behooves you to pick up Golden Calves’ lost recordings in their new repackaging as the Money Band and Century Band combo, do yourself a solid and pick up one of those large bottles of aspirin while you’re at it. This is what hell is like. Not in the fire and brimstone sense, but a more cynical take; the kind where you are stuck in an infinite cycle involving some type of abhorrence. Woodsist Records made one thousand copies of this release, which is two records each. 1,000 x 2 = a huge, unnecessary waste of wax.

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01st Feb2012

Album Reviews: The Doozer – Keep It Together

by Ryan

“Who is The Doozer?” is an incredibly frustrating question that has been presented to me upon taking this task of writing a review for his new album. More specifically, I am required to detail the ups and downs of The Doozer’s Keep It Together, which was just released on Woodsist Records. Instead of answering the former question however, I actually have begun asking myself the same thing… and to no avail. Not that I have scourged the annals of the Library Of Congress for his records, but his identity is not immediately present to the public eye. The only knowledge I possess of this mystery musician is that he’s a chap from eastern England who dons the guitar with the assistance of your typical bass, drums, and additional instrumentation.

Listen to “Fold Up Chair”

The Pros:

Eschewing musical taste, whether it is style, approach, genre, or whatever you call someone’s “technique;” if an artist can cause the listener to feel an immersing emotion contrary to their predisposition, that is an accomplishment. For instance, one who may not take fancy to hip-hop and rap could listen to A Tribe Called Quest‘s “Everything Is Fair” and although they loathe the genre, the lyricism about hard inner-city living could overthrow them to be moved emotionally by the music. The Doozer’s wordplay is not the game here, but Keep It Together‘s usage of string sections carries a copious amount of bite worthy enough to melt your shell of complacency down to a ghostly, pale interior.

The Cons:

Now once again, disregarding all stylings of music, what makes it good is if it connects with the listener in some sort of way. We’re back in Music 101 here, I know, but it’s a crucial and longstanding guideline that any generally accepted artists and bands follow. The Doozer hasn’t really done well on his part to provide provoking or stimulating music with this album. Keep It Together is chock full of major and minor bar chords strewn out over the guitar in patterns that are all different but equal in boring simplicity. I’m all for the bass guitar taking precedence over the rhythm, but that isn’t necessarily what’s happening in these songs. The guitar is just so characterless and only serves the function of being a rhythmic instrument and nothing more, that the bass cannot help but outshine (if you wish to call it that) everything else.

The Doozer’s voice is this squarely idiosyncratic drone that comes off as emotionless, dry, and heavily influenced by his accent from his home in Fenlands. His range seems like it doesn’t even encompass a full octave. It’s almost as if Dooze is hosting a competition between his vocals and guitar to see which one rises above victoriously as the superior boring feature. To boot, every lyric to each song is drenched in pointlessness. Quite often, nothing ever rhymes, and the subject matter of the tunes are so damn benign that it feels like he’s doing it on purpose. He could very well be the true hipster’s hipster of eastern England.

The Verdict:

Keep It Together is apparently The Doozer’s fourth full length release. It is inconceivable to think that three similarly-clocked works preceded this dud. It’s even more mind-boggling to consider that this is apparently his first effort with a full band. Is Dooze trying to be poorly and irritatingly ironic when he plays music, or does it just happen naturally? Is he on some epic quest to fulfill a prophecy of banality via electric guitar? Will anyone care once they hear this album? Signs point to “no.”

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18th Jan2012

Album Reviews: Sonic Avenues – Television Youth

by Ryan

Not long ago, I reviewed the Dirtnap Records affiliate The Steve Adamyk Band, praising their knack for pumping out pop-punk material that didn’t sound aggravating, cliche, or passe for that matter. Fellow writer Nick Wan also just recently took a look at labelmates Mind Spiders, who similarly offer a sound that furthers the current pop-punk genre and keeps it in an appreciative state. Essentially, they accomplish the exact opposite of what Green Day does. Following the trend, the Sonic Avenues are set to release their sophomore effort Television Youth. To any of you who may have been under the impression that this album was scheduled for this past Sunday, it has now been pushed to the 31st, due to an unsatisfactory test pressing.

The Pros:

Being familiar enough with Dirtnap associate bands at this point, I assumed correctly that this would be an album of fast-paced pop songs intended for lighthearted and fun situations. If you are looking for comparison, the Sonic Avenues are a less abrasive version of The Steve Adamyk Band. Television Youth never or rarely goes into a minor key, regardless of the subject matter at hand. Even the kickoff track “Givin’ Up On You” is quite the bummer if you look at the lyrics, but these guys have a tendency to always maintain a happier tonality to their tunes. It’s admirable, because it shows that their outlook is to promote positivity, even in the saddest of times.

The Cons:

These songs all have a terrible propensity to become indiscernible from one another. After multiple listens to the album, it is still difficult to look at a random title of a song and think of how it played back. On a lyrical level, nothing defines itself from the pack. Their singer is already a bit of a pain to listen to because he sits on the hackneyed, wailing side of the fence, rather than expressing much legitimate feeling in his vocals. It sounds like factory-produced pop-punk vocals made for pop-punk music.

The Steve Adamyk Band never crossed that path of annoyance because Steve himself actually showed a lot of range when singing, as with the rest of the band. Another plus of Forever Won’t Wait was that every track showed varying song structures and styles. You could find anything from the Pixies-esque “Forever Won’t Wait” to the political burner “Election Day.” What does Television Youth have? “Fadin’ Luv,” which contains a refrain about “…fading love” and “Static Attraction,” which contains a refrain about “…static love.” It is a downright bear to listen to if you are someone who wishes for diversity between a band’s track listing and general songwriting talent.

The Verdict:

There are quite a lot of albums I review that meet this type of fate in the end. Nothing about Television Youth outwardly sounds offensive to the ear; the guitars aren’t grossly atonal, the drums are fine, and the bass lines are appropriate and agreeable. Problems arise from the Sonic Avenues’ inability to write music that is flexible or distinctive. Instead of presenting an attitude or personality, they waste their songs with overused, faux-beachy filler.

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12th Jan2012

Album Reviews: The Babies – Cry Along With The Babies

by Ryan

If I had a nickel for every time that I reviewed a band from Brooklyn… well, truthfully, I’d probably only have enough money to buy a box of Goobers, but you get the point. I’m not knocking the area at all, I just mean to say that it is the modern melting pot for indie rockers to call their home and form bands. The Babies are a young band, (pun DEFINITELY intended), and have thus far released a few singles and an LP that all center around some loose definition of indie pop. Not more than a few days ago, the group released a new EP called Cry Along With The Babies that is far from typical of their previous works, as it displays twenty minutes of members Kevin Morby and Cassie Ramone’s low fidelity recordings and demos.

Listen to “Trouble”

The Babies – Trouble by New Images

The Pros:

Although there’s nothing but a guitar or two and Kevin and Cassie’s vocals featured on every track, their signature peppiness shines through on these minimalist songs. Because the segments of Cry Along With The Babies were recorded on the go in between shows and in bedrooms, (and trust me, it is very apparent upon listening), the twee nature belonging to The Babies’ other releases has to be “unearthed” so to speak in order to get the familiar effect if you are a fan of the group. This EP contains a set of blueprints, after all.

The Cons:

The Babies are not artists for the lo-fi genre. That is what we have to learn from listening to their new extended play. Audio quality of a song has nothing to do with how well-received or listenable the music ends up being. Bands like Sebadoh and Guided By Voices have kicked that hypothesis out the door by recording numerous releases with poor audio equipment and churning out indie rock classics that get played to this day such as “Spoiled” and “Drinker’s Peace,” respectively.

If you have listened to anything The Babies put out prior to this release, their niche is instantly understood. They deserve a studio setting for any of their songs. Take “All Things Come To Pass” for example; it is a heavy reverb-utilized affair with plainly strummed guitars and twinkly vocals. Strip away any cords, amplifiers, and drums, and you are left with a dull, repetitious tune that sounds nothing like its original form did. There lies the problem with Cry Along: it is a collection of six potential songs that are all in a premature stage, (another intended pun), and would bode well seeing an addition of the electric guitars and drums relative to The Babies’ other output.

The Verdict:

It is gutsy to allow the public insight to mere ideas of songs in a state of unreadiness, but it is astounding that Morby and Ramone didn’t take a look at what they were about to release and decide against doing so. Remember, we’re not talking about audio here, but the songwriting quality doesn’t fit the lo-fi genre presented on the EP. Another shame to consider is that this is being released partly to coincide with their tour as supporting act for the wonderful Real Estate. Cry Along With The Babies is a one-way ticket to get a fan base disinterested in an opening act for the headliner, that is for sure.

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14th Dec2011

Album Reviews: Paul Parnell – Pretend It’s Christmas

by Ryan

It is well into the month of December, everybody. Let’s get in the spirit of things by taking a look at Paul Parnell’s recent debut album Pretend It’s Christmas. This scarf-garbed Hoosier pictured above is a middle-aged singer and pianist whose life has revolved around music for years now. He has a very active background in church choir involvement. Seemingly his most outstanding trait appears to be his absolute love for Christmas. Parnell’s affinity for the holiday stretches past that of the average Christian practitioner, and how! Even the most avid of churchgoers aren’t writing their own songs to commemorate the season, but Paul is a churchgoer with the gift of music. Thus, the world has eleven new and original songs, ballads, and jigs with which to celebrate.

The Pros:

Listening to this album is more than enough to make Ned Flanders cry tears of joy. I don’t think I have heard a more Christmas-fueled “Christmas album” than Pretend It’s Christmas. Yes, Parnell has admirable talent at the piano bench and the time and patience it took to compose these songs are virtues of his that he was more than willing to put to use. What is most impressive about this release thought is Paul’s commendable, brazen attitude dealing with marketing his music. Independent artists, no matter what genre, will release an album not only to share their art with the world, but also to be noticed in some fashion. Bands do not have to worry because they are putting out a (usually) unique brand of noise available for a demographic that is always hungry for new sounds. Whether it remains under the radar for good is left up to chance. Paul Parnell places himself in an even tougher marketplace, because as ignorant as “nobody is searching for independent Christmas albums” comes off, it is pretty undeniable. The label is far too specific and undesired, because people who want a holiday themed LP will easily grab Mariah Carey or Vince Guaraldi‘s exquisite Peanuts seasonal collection long before a copy of Parnell’s offering gets glanced at. You can more than assume that he is fully aware of this, and that is why he garners a lot of respect for choosing this path as his first career step. He’s in it solely for the music.

The Cons:

Artistic integrity aside, this album suffers from a lot of unfavorable cliches and weaknesses. In regards to what I was saying towards the end of the above section, this record actually does have a market. The sad truth is that it is most appropriately suited for dollar stores and budget sections of Barnes & Noble book shops, (since Borders is no longer). This isn’t bashing, and it isn’t mocking in the least bit, but Pretend It’s Christmas can be taken with no more seriousness than Jan Levenson’s former assistant’s “That One Night” song from The Office. Without even popping this in to see how it sounds, many people would be under the impression that it’s a joke just judging from the cover.

Since there was not any type of media that could be embedded in this article, it is difficult to really understand, let alone describe the cheesiness scattered individually to all eleven tracks that make up Pretend It’s Christmas. The title track kicks things off to an “is this guy for real?” beginning. Imagine the most cliched smooth jazz progression you can think of, and pair it with lyrics like, “Sitting on my patio/It’s 85° and there’s no snow, but I can… pretend it’s Christmas.” Tracks like “Christmas Time Is Here Again,” “The Christmas Tale,” and “The Perfect Lamb” are next in sequence, and the tone changes drastically from the first song’s longing for the holiday to a strictly religious standpoint. Each one not only grows less fun and more educational in lyrical context, but increasingly histrionic as well; sometimes to the point where it becomes laughable. Did I say smooth jazz just a bit ago? Make that smooth jazz as interpreted by a MIDI or some other facet-limited synthesizer. It seems that every other track is laced with a wimpy, pathetic, shudder-inducing “vibraphone” setting from a keyboard. Parnell himself has a propensity to get extremely vocally awkward depending on the religious seriousness of each song. He expands simple words so that they become weirdly and barely comprehensible enough for the listener. When he’s in this mode, it most accurately can be characterized as Donny Osmond on tranquilizers.

There is a plethora of other odd and questionable things that make up this LP, like the borderline offensive and ill-conceived belching sound effect used in “Christmas Indiana” at one point. However, listing all of them would come close to reaching the length of Santa’s naughty list. From an existentialist’s point of view, you could say that this album’s being is pointless because there are countless of other Christmas albums that are centered around religion specifically, and most of them are better in some way. That essentially goes to say that there isn’t much originality within Parnell’s debut. From a more lenient and sensible point of view, you could say that Pretend It’s Christmas not only doesn’t bring anything new to the table of music, but it also gives fresh meaning to the phrase “cheese ball.”

The Verdict:

Giving a poor review to Paul Parnell actually pains me a little bit, especially because his favorite holiday is just around the proverbial corner. A candle cannot be held to this man’s passion for Christmas, but his collection of inspired tunes quickly shifts from adorable to over-the-top and silly. Listeners are better off with Guaraldi’s classics. One thing is for certain though, and it is that nothing can hurt Parnell’s yuletide pride. I wish him a joyous Christmas time, and I know for a fact he will have nothing less.

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12th Dec2011

Album Reviews: Goldmund – All Will Prosper

by Ryan

Keith Kenniff is a man of many faces. He is most widely known as the musician behind the curtain of Helios, an ambient project of his. When he’s not making music in such a style, he steps down to his second moniker, Goldmund. This is a completely different beast on its own, tending to resemble a more piano-on-reverb orientation. With his latest release using the latter surname, he has taken great influence in the Civil War. All Will Prosper, released on Western Vinyl, is a modest collection of pre-reconstruction era folk songs, sans-vocals. That means “Amazing Grace” without any “that saved a wretch like me.” Said album has interestingly been a work in progress, taking Kenniff five years of here-and-there recording to reach completion.

Listen to “All Will Prosper Teaser”

The Pros:

Even counting Goldmund’s sole original composition to the bunch, “Ashoken Farewell,” these are all very simplistic tunes and don’t require much out of Kenniff in order to give the song life and recognition. Minimalism is synonymous with beauty on this release. The empty room noise produced by the various recording locations throughout the years blows a cold, withering wind to these ballads and odes of the past. Music so crystal clear and note for note recalls an intimacy that is very rare now. The expression might be cliche, but if you listen to All Will Prosper in the appropriate setting, it really feels like you are in the same room as Kenniff. Every detail is pronounced, you can hear the clacks of the piano keys hitting the wood panel and the curt shriek of fingers sliding to different chord positions on guitar strings.

Apart from the excellently hushed and commanding production, (or lack thereof), Goldmund also does well on his part to provide adequate piano and acoustic guitar arrangements of classic Civil War melodies like “Battle Cry Of Freedom” and “When Johnny Comes Marching Home.” This album is truly an inspired work, and Kenniff pays his best respect to each song by contributing his own personal flavor, while maintaining its essence.

The Cons:

Fifteen tracks. What you do not think on before listening, is that you will be sitting through fifteen tracks featuring battle hymns and verses as interpreted by a piano and guitar. In other words, it gets incredibly boring after the first few. This album took me to a place, not too far away from where I am now. I journeyed back to an uncomfortable church pew, surrounded by kids much younger than me. I’m back in high school, and I am living out the last few piano recitals that I will ever have to sit through. If you listeners have ever had the happening of observing one of these, you know exactly where I’m coming from. They are bland, monotonous events. One after another, adolescents rise up to the ivories and hurry through a piece or two that they were semi-required to learn. A lot of these are basic tunes that many know by heart or can at least hum to themselves.

All Will Prosper is very much like taking part in a piano recital. Pop this LP in, and you will feel much like I did in the past; waiting impatiently for the lengthy litany of boring, plainly recognizable songs to be over with so that you can exit to the back room for cookies and punch. Except there is no cookies and punch in this instance. The only reward in store for you after listening to Goldmund’s latest record is that you have an above average sense of endurance.

The Verdict:

Mr. Kenniff offers up a sweet and sentimental tribute to the anthems that once were meant to uplift and mourn for our nation. The problem with All Will Prosper isn’t one of age though. Rather than sounding dated, Goldmund mistakes subtlety for flatness. There is no creative arc on this record. From the desolate luminescence of “The Death Of General Wolfe” to the very same attributes of “When Johnny Comes Marching Home,” no effort is ever made to shake things up. I admire Keith’s love for Civil War history, but his attempt at commemorating its spirit via musical release can be described only as repetitive and unyielding.

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