VITAL REVERB: MARCH 18, 2010 Sounding Off On The Sounds You Need
Liars
Sisterworld
Mute
ESM Rating: 9/10
The irony of Liars is the distance between
themselves and their namesake. They’ve skirted the untruth of all the false
glamour surrounding Los Angeles and projected clean, finding carnal beauty
within their origins. Sisterworld sounds like a Detroit ghetto housing a
siren’s song of temptation. It will help you cope with the fact that sometimes
you walk out of your front door to find a rainbow, and sometimes you find a
crow cackling at you from the jagged limb of a dead tree.
Thinking about Los Angeles usually leaves me in a
mindset of complete disbelief. Walking away from interactions regarding this
said city, I’ll feel slimed or thieved like a little piece of reality has been
stolen from the development and growth so many individuals have helped me to
realize as my being. Liars don’t speak for Hollywood — fame, fake
tanning, or the latest trends in sushi — just like most Floridians
wouldn’t speak for Miami and South Florida’s glamour cleavage, cigarette boats,
and designer drugs. It’s the few people who live in these places who like to
talk about them, and endlessly do, which makes Sisterworld a beacon of
audio truth in a sinkhole of misinformed ambassadorial babble pouring forth from
their chosen physical origin.
Sisterworld tackles the sad truths that most everyone else is missing out on in the close
physical proximity of Angus Andrew, Aaron Hemphill and Julian Cross. The
fundamental experiences of blind travel that have drawn these freedom seekers
together produces a collection of tracks that avoid California glam so directly
it’s a riot call to the power of self-awareness. A rising tide pushing the
people who have so much at stake in the whirlwind of false hope to act in
earnest, a trait synonymous with Liars.
Billboards have underscored Liars’ kinship with Radiohead and Interpol, and in a similar
pilfering of artistic inspiration Sisterworld penetrates the cloud of
conformity, digging downward to find understanding beneath every collective of
constructed beauty. Liars are well
aware that down deep, there lies a dirty yet beautiful well of spirit to draw
inspiration from. By Will Tunstall
Disco
Biscuits
Planet Anthem
Diamond Riggs
ESM Rating: 7/10
To you, disco biscuits might be slang for ecstasy
pills, but to the rest of us, Disco
Biscuits are the much-heralded Philadelphia jam band, known for melding
electronic influences with the typical guitar-noodling/ space rock/ hillbilly hootenanny
sounds that come to mind when you think “jam band.” 15 years later, Disco Biscuits are worldwide darlings,
with their own summer festival, Camp Bisco, yearly ticket sales exceeding
250,000, and even their own genre, the lovingly titled “trance-fusion.” So
where do the Biscuits go next?
How about into hip-hop, indie rock, and pop territory
only flirted with on past albums? Planet
Anthem sets its epic course early on, with the breezy “Loose Change”
extolling the evils of money over a rising tide of drum machines. “On Time’s”
Auto-Tune vocals and driving beat could lead it right onto the dance floor, while
“Widgets” is a heady dose of downtempo shoegaze perfect for a long morning
coming down. And “You And I” could take the indie charts by storm, with its
crunchy guitars and anthemic vocals representing the best of 21st century
electro-rock marriages.
Disco
Biscuits are famous for never
playing a song the same way twice during their renowned marathon live sets, but
for Planet Anthem they invited a
multitude of musicians, producers, and songwriters to their Philly studio space
for recording sessions. And rather than adopting live jams into proper songs, they
built auditory explorations like “Uber Glue” and “Sweatbox” out of polished
bits and pieces that have then been worked into their live itinerary. It’s
something new for these 15-year jam-band veterans, as well as something new for
their diehard fans. And if Disco
Biscuits’ long list of sold-out shows is any testimony, it’s something
everyone can enjoy. By Nick McGregor
Tom McRae
The Alphabet Of Hurricanes
Cooking Vinyl
ESM Rating: 8/10
Being sad and cool is often harder than not. Yet “sad”
probably isn’t the right term; I’d say solemn better describes the demeanor of
UK native Tom McRae. Like any straight-shooting songwriter, his sound is
as downtrodden as the closing doors on the Last Supper. McRae may not
agree, since the only reference to religion on his fifth release, The
Alphabet Of Hurricanes, concerns getting midnight drunk and attending mass with a jolly old preacher in
his holy sanctuary.
Working the barstools and back corners of dusty holes
leaves many a man jaded and wrinkled, but McRae possesses an artistic
passport. A shiny new one in fact, affording him top secret access to the
alleyways and tunnels slipping around and beneath the expected predisposition
of callus and onto the beaches of instrumental bliss. On The Alphabet Of
Hurricanes, you’ll find the
necessary plight, elation, and deadpan humor needed from any intelligent solo singer/songwriter
to draw a crowd while being hit with something more important to boot. There is
an orchestrated circus backing McRae. There is experimentation in his
craft, one in which working without change could function just fine for the
task. He is pushing himself to branch out and pen lyrical content applicable to
young and old alike.
The Alphabet Of Hurricanes self-negates at times, and flowers in its own
severity during others — a small vine growing from a mixture of rich soil
and crushed bone. McRae gives nods
to the likes of Bob Dylan and Nick Cave throughout the album, without stepping directly
into their niche. “Tom McRae is a smart guy” — so says his press
release. I think his PR people are spot on, and it doesn’t take many listens to The Alphabet Of Hurricanes to find
yourself wishing you could climb inside of his mind. By Will Tunstall
Dropkick
Murphys
Live On Landsdowne
Born & Bred
ESM Rating: 7/10
Dropkick
Murphys have gone and done it again.
Boston’s favorite Irish bastards have released their second live album,
consisting of nothing but recordings compiled over a week of their annual St.
Patrick’s Day stand in Beantown. This set, titled Live On Landsdowne, comes from seven shows in March 2009 and has an
entirely different set list than their last March-heavy live album, Live On St. Patrick’s Day From Boston, MA, which
came out in 2002. And Live On Landsdowne was released just in time for St. Paddy’s Day 2010, on the Dropkicks’ own Born & Bred record label.
So is any further explanation necessary? The Murphys plow through 20 Celtic punk fan
favorites on Live On Landsdowne,
touching on homestate odes like “The State Of Massachusetts” and their
platinum-selling, mainstream-saturated “I’m Shipping Up To Boston,” along with
drinking songs “Kiss Me, I’m Shitfaced” and “The Dirty Glass” and traditional
Irish ballads like “Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ya.” The best part of Live On Landsdowne comes in between
tracks though, as the passionate, screaming fervor of Dropkick Murphys’ sold-out crowds is obvious.
In a world where punk rock often toils in the musical
shadows, Dropkick Murphys have
proved that international success is possible when you combine Irish roots,
solid rock ‘n’ roll chops, and a celebration of life, liberty, and libation
that even the stodgiest music fan can jam to. Here’s to many more live albums
and full-lengths and drunken sing-alongs to come for Dropkick Murphys. By Nick McGregor
