I like music. I have a band. I’m gonna tell you all about it. 

 What I look for in rock: guitars, melody, guitars, energy, guitars, and guitars.

I should just give up the battle. I play “punk” music, right? Everyone plays punk music. All music is punk music. The word embodies a very strict set of rules the includes AND excludes all bands.

So yeah, saying White Wires is a punk band is a completely useless descriptor. I’d say that underground, hook-filled rock is better. Not much, but at least it presents a ballpark to reside in.

I came around to the White Wires. Here’s a peek into my particular music mania: during the week, I listen to several different internet radio stations, and jot down tracks for further investigation. Come payday, I investigate. For the White Wires, I passed the first time around. Then I heard them live on the Cherry Blossom Clinic with Terre T on WFMU. Changed my mind. They have a great attitude.

What does attitude have to do with anything? Sometimes everything.

I love it when a band is overjoyed with the music their playing. According to the mission statement that came with the vinyl, WWIII was conceived to be their big pop album, with hooks, and guitar, and singles, and everything. The White Wires are just happy to be here, and just happy to be playing their songs. That’s infectious.

Check ’em out!!

I am guilty of many crimes. One of which is not liking the right bands.

Are there ‘right’ bands to enjoy? I find myself fascinated with the bands I should like. The Pavements* of the world. The Roxy Musics**. The Spoons***. All of these bands should be in my wheelhouse. In theory. But only leave me cold. Why can’t I love the Replacements****? People with the same taste in music, people whom I respect, they love them unequivocally. It must be my problem.

As a result, I’ll revisit a Clash***** from time to time. This time around it’s the new album by Redd Kross. To my surprise, I liked half of it! That’s the half I’m going to talk about.

I have a theory about the musical Rosetta Stone. It’s the one song that allows you to suddenly decode a band’s output. More on that later. Much more. But on this album, that song is Choose to Play. It’s a fantastic bit of distilled, euphoric power pop. I think it’s the euphoria that elevates my favorite songs on this album. Almost psychedelic in it’s scope. The songs without this I skip.

Also interesting about this album, is that the good songs are bottom loaded. Most bands cram them at the beginning, and then lose steam after the midpoint. Maybe I don’t know what the goods songs really are?

So yeah, check it out!! But I doubt that I needed to tell you, the world, that. You’re already clued in.

*Blasphemy!
**The Hell you Say!
***Meh
****Heresy!! Burn the Heretic!!
*****Against God and Nature!

I like music. I have a band. I’m gonna tell you all about it. 

 What I look for in rock: guitars, melody, guitars, energy, guitars, and guitars.

What is a Mind Spider?

I’m not quite sure. But from piecing together referencers from the songs on this album, I can safely say that it’s some manner of invisible creature that invades the brain, causing an elevated state of rock consciousness.

So, I played this at game night, and Rich said it sounded “retro”. Which is an interesting choice of words in these times. Nostalgia always has a place in the music underground. Bands longing for musical genres and individual bands long since forgotten by everyone else… these are the building blocks of scenes. These days, “garage rock” is a movement. I have bands in my collection that sound like they swept the cutting room floor of the James Gang. Or Sabbath. Or The Sonics. Circle of life.

I’m not saying this is bad or good. I’m just sayin’.

Back to the Mind Spiders and their album Meltdown. They start off by proclaiming that us, the listener, are dead. And then proceed on to fastidiously power garage-y pop, with nu-wave flourishes. Nu-wave is code for keyboards.

Here’s the thing with keyboards in bands: often disappointing. The curse of the rock keyboardist is that they must find a place in every song. And much like the dreaded saxophone, keyboards simply don’t fit in every rock song. Luckily for the Mind Spiders, the keyboards are never out of place. Even the throw-away final track is jaunty. I like jaunty.

I find this album solid. It may lose a little steam near the end, but that’s endemic for the medium.

Check ’em out!!

I like music. I have a band. I’m gonna tell you all about it. 

 What I look for in rock: guitars, melody, guitars, energy, guitars, and guitars.

These Canadians and their rock collectives! Perhaps all this meritocracy is keeping rock alive!

But today, I’m not going to talk about that. i’m going to talk about the “solo” incarnation of a Canadian band. In particular, Young Governor.

One of the giant guitars in Fucked Up (collective), Young Governor has a very particular notion of “keeping it real”. He only releases singles and extended play records. Scattered like seeds on the wind of the underground. I pre-ordered his latest, A Love Too Strong, which he released under the moniker Young Gov & The Scuzz.

This here is 10 inches of lovingly crafted power pop. Not skinny tie type, more Big Star type. The crispy sizzle from the treble knobs being cranked permeates all of these upbeat, catchy numbers. I can’t help be reminded of the 70’s AM dial. This songs make way too much noise to be from that era, but the feeling is the same. These are the songs that play on the 70’s AM station in Young Governor’s mind.

As expected, this release leaves me wanting more. For better or for worse*, I’m not sure. I do like singles, but I’d like to hear the mythical full album.

Check ’em out, and try to ignore the unfortunate blog title.

*A Canadian pun? You decide!

I like music. I have a band. I’m gonna tell you all about it. 

 What I look for in rock: guitars, melody, guitars, energy, guitars, and guitars.

Jack White has a new album out that critics are predictably swooning about. It’s about as inspired as you’d think from a superstar well along in his career.

He’s certainly not writing lyrics like: “The moon in the sky kicks the ass of the stars. They all fade, they all fade, so it goes.”

Which is my way of saying… why don’t more people know M.O.T.O.? This is the age of the Internet!

Pedigree? Established as contemporaries of Guided by Voices, and Flaming Lips (so, circa 1983 or so) and they’ve been active most of that time. Released a ridiculous number of albums that mere mortals cannot buy. Why? They were released in obscenely small quantities. Some only exist in cassette tape form. The only sane way you can buy M.O.T.O. music is by buying mp3 albums from CD Baby. They’re not even on iTunes! And they are obsessed with anthemic power punk with sing along choruses such as “Flipping you off with every finger on my hand”.

I’ll admit. I’m not a fan who’s been following them for years. I’m not nearly that cool. They played a local gig (which I couldn’t attend), Rich knew a bit of their backstory, and we checked out their tunes on Myspace. Talk about opening a Pandora’s Box. There was even a local cover band devoted to them. Internet, why don’t you know about M.O.T.O.?

For the record, the two albums I procured were Raw Power, and Kill MOTO. And for a rock band to name their album after a very, very, very famous Iggy and the Stooges album? Brass balls.

Oh, and for the record, it’s short for Masters Of The Obvious. Ironic, eh?

Check ’em out!!

I like music. I have a band. I’m gonna tell you all about it. 

 What I look for in rock: guitars, melody, guitars, energy, guitars, and guitars.

This is a pretty goddamn fantastic album. And to think I didn’t want to write about Strawberry!

First of all, it came out in 2009. Old news! Secondly, I learned about it from a shameful source. A local paper. One that 99 percent of the time only reviews bands that have friends in them. You know… THAT local type of paper. Luckily we have two local papers. I’m sure one is good and angelic. That’s how the universe works. Yin/Yang. There couldn’t be TWO horrible local rags, could there?

Anyway, Wussy appears to have been formed in the wake of the Ass Ponies, a band that I only know from the prestigious amount of used CDs I used to see in the cut out bins. I listened to some on the innerweb, and it appears to me they were one of the many bands snatched up by Big Music, only to have their talent pissed away in the search for the next Crazy Town.

But this review isn’t about any of that stuff, cuz I don’t know it. Wussy is one of the few bands that have two strong vocalists covering the male and female spectrum of gender. Americana tinged indie rock lovingly sculpted around thin metaphors for dreams and love. Rich thinks they sound like Uncle Tupelo. I would never be that reductive. Never!

And they’re from Ohio. What is it about those Ohio bands that I can’t shake?

Check ’em out!!