Tag: #Import 2025-04-25 15:23

we are the only friends we have

‘If the name Piebald means anything at all to you, you know that it is rare for the band to put out any substandard songs. There latest offering, “We are the Only Friends We Have” does not stray from that norm.

If the name does not mean anything to you, then this might just be a record that would be worthy to be a part of any collection. Piebald is a band of wonderful geeks from Massachusetts. Armed with an undying wit and a penchant for arena rock, they continually fine-tune their formula in the quest for musical supremacy.  The only obstacle holding the band back from ruling the underground rock world would be Travis Shettel’s voice. It’s hit or miss with the audience, a reason to either love or hate the band.

With each passing album, Travis’s voice has progressively gotten stronger. Unfortunately, the ware and tear of the road and recording cause a bit too much of a strain on Travis’s voice. He recently underwent surgery on his throat.

Piebald is a band paying constant homage to their personal rock gods of Van Halen. “We are the Only Friends We Have” fits in line with the band’s catalogue. It is packed with loud guitars that scream their solos (“Fear and Loathing on Cape Cod) and run the length of marathon octaves (“Long Nights”). It is rock with an indie background, somewhat similar to Saves the Day, The Getup Kids, and A Newfound Glory, but it does so much more too.

This album expands upon their typical formula to include small horn parts and even a chorus of singing school children.

Piebald songs usually hit one of two extremes. Either they touch on issues affecting social consciousness and justice (“American Hearts,” “The Monkey versus the Robot”) or they are downright clever and humorous (“Sex Sells and (Unfortunately) I’m Buying,” or their first full length album “If it wasn’t for Venetian Blinds It Would Be Curtains for Us All”). No matter which angle the band takes, though, they do it well.

Overall, this is one of their best productions to date. It is well written and well produced. The only low point is the first song, “King of the World” which sounds too much like one of their earlier songs, “The Rock Revolution Will Not be Televised.” Actually, this album contains the song “American Hearts” which was originally released on “The Rock Revolution.”

The best tracks on this album are “Just a Simple Plan,” “The Monkey versus the Robot,” and “Look, I Just Don’t Like You.”

The real deal

‘Vaux must be exhausted. This past year was extremely busy for them, and 2004 does not seem to be any different. Within the past 12 months, they played the Warped Tour, the South By Southwest music conference, and recorded a new full-length, the much-touted “There Must Be Some Way To Stop Them.”

They are stopping briefly home in Denver off their long, recent tour with Coheed & Cambria. Still, they show no signs of weariness. They recently left their independent California-based label Volcom behind to sign to Atlantic. Bigger bands need bigger britches.

What’s not to be said about this band? They’re a local band and deserving of local support – but that’s an excuse that should be passed on to bands of lesser caliber. This is melodic hardcore at its best. They’re loud, aggressive and tough as nails. You should see this band because their “must-see” label is absolutely authentic.

i brought you my bullets, you brought me your love

‘Ever wonder what a cross between Guns N? Roses, At the Drive-In, and an overdose of Scorsese movies would produce?

Whatever it sounds like, My Chemical Romance?s healthy dose of screaming vocals,  religious and mafia references, and New Jersey attitudes cannot be to far off from the answer.

Gerard Way may not be the most intellectual of lyricists (?Can you take this spike. Will it wash away this jet black feeling.?) and bassist Mikey Way may have broken the first commandment of rock by wearing his own band?s t-shirt in concert but these things can be overlooked. So can obsessively over-recurring themes of death, bullets, ?the patron saint of switchblade fights.?

Seriously, Gerard, you might want to go see a psychiatrist.

It is easy to look passed these things because, plain and simple; My Chemical Romance rocks harder than any new band has in years. To go out on a limb here, they may be the next ATDI. The afros are probably incidental, though.

The typical drum/bass/guitar instrumentation has a sense of purpose behind it, in addition to the enormous amount of energy put out in both the harder and softer parts.

His screams sound more like a pissed-off shrieking rant than melodically structured bawls at times, but Gerard?s voice has a very endearing quality about him. It fits well into his pretty-boy, leather-jacket-clad persona and brings the sounds of MCR to a much higher and more reputable level.

?I Brought You My Bullets may have you thinking of a younger Ray Liota confessing, ?As far back as I can remember, I wanted to be in the mafia.? It gives the record a concept album feel: the music Frank Sinatra may have made if he was alive and in a punk band today.

Although the angle is barely noticeable, the songs on the album progress downward in a fairly linear fashion. The last songs are not all that much worse than the first, but the first half of the album is, without a doubt, stronger than the second.

?Honey, This Mirror Isn?t Big Enough for the Two of Us,? ?Vampires Will Never Hurt You,? and ?Headfirst for Halos,? the mandatory east coast song against suicide, are the best tracks on the album.

The strongest points of MCR are the constants that run through every song: the band?s character, attitude, stage presence in concert, and their virility.

Songstress is all heart

‘It takes no longer than a moment to realize Rosie Thomas’ altruistic qualities. Her demeanor is relentlessly upbeat, her disposition sunny and her outlook positive. Her instant charm and willing openness creates the persona of a mythical girl-next-door – the person who is often overlooked but, once noticed, becomes the absolute be-all and end-all.

Her values stick close to these characteristics. She’s admittedly aware of her fears but refuses to be defeated by them. She’s bright and funny, but open about her heartaches. She’s both the person whom you want to rely upon for matters of the utmost gravity, and also the person you can count on to make you laugh.

Thomas is a self-proclaimed entertainer, recoiling from the label of musician. Her songs are public radio-friendly tunes built on standard folk progressions with despondent lyrics that are still outlined by the silhouette of hope.

She is built upon contradictions. At one moment, she is Rosie, the mild-mannered girl who loves her family and beams with beauty. At the next, she is Sheila, a walking calamity. Her glasses are geek-ish and awkward; a brace adorns her neck. Sheila has not quite mastered the obvious and always knows the wrong thing to say. Sheila is the yin to Rosie’s yang, her comic relief.rnSound

schizophrenic? It’s not that Thomas is speaking out of both sides of her mouth at once. It’s just that she has the parts of a comedian pre-wired into her. At some shows, she appears on stage in entire Sheila, the Gilda Radner-reminiscent wreck of a pizza-delivery girl, garb. As this alter-ego, she plays a few songs and makes a few jokes. Then, she may just leave unannounced and return as Rosie. One never mentions a word about the other.

“Sheila is very spontaneous,” said Rosie Thomas. “I never know when she is going to show up. I carry her costume with me in a bag and just put it on at the last minute.”

Her path to both music and comedy may have been charted long before her first show or first record. It may have even begun before she was born. It may have begun with her father, a musician and one of the main inspirations in her life. He bought her first guitar – at Rosie’s request – and taught her how to play. Their relationship was founded on expressing and sharing these creative abilities.rn”My

dad was in a band in Detroit and they put out a few vinyl records,” she said. “As a musician his main source of income was playing music. When my parents got married, they played as duos in restaurants together. They are both very talented.”

When she was first booked to play shows, she did not have enough songs for an entire set. So, her father agreed to join her on stage. They took turns playing their songs as well as playing a few together.

“He’s awesome,” she said. “He’s 62 but he’s like a big kid. He’ll call me at 3 a.m. all excited to tell me he figured out a new finger-picking pattern, or how to play a new Simon and Garfunkel song. I love him.”

Thomas says that she grew up on her father’s record collection, which was heavily packed with Detroit soul music and folk artists like Bob Dylan. Most of these musicians she came to appreciate as her father explained their “purposes.” For instance, he taught her to look past Dylan’s voice and to focus on the story he told. It completely altered her take on music.

Of course, not all of those records struck a chord with her. She admits that there are some artists, like Hall and Oates, which she just could not accept. They were just too funny – in a bad way.

While already an aspiring musician, she chose to focus on the “funny” first. As a result, her career did not start in music. It started with her childhood dream, in comedy. During her short-lived standup years, she scored a handful of opening acts for notable comedians, including Mitch Hedberg. It was during her experience with comedy that Sheila was born.

“I grew up thinking the funny girls were all ugly and loud and nobody liked them,” she said. “I don’t think I fit that role but it is part of me and I wanted to give people both parts of myself. I need to have hope in my life but I can also be a disaster deep down. So, I decided I needed to come out on stage as a completely different person than what I show people. I needed to show Sheila.”

During Sheila’s set, she plays tragic ’80s songs that can be described as nothing but “terrible.” Although it has yet to make it onto Sheila’s playlist, she promises that Hall and Oates’ “Maneater” will soon be there.

in time

‘The first question any true R.E.M. fans should ask him- or herself is: “How can you create a best-of record when it does not include the group’s best material, the pre-WB years?”

Easy, you slap a timeframe and “Losing My Religion” in the mix and don’t look back. Besides, if you want a more accurate best-of, you probably already own “Eponymous,” which does a much better job at staying true to its name.

“In Time” sort of picks up were that record left off. It focuses on the band’s more recent material, including two new songs that show that R.E.M. still has the potential to do what they do best – write safe music under the guise of being edgy.

Owners of this album will find that the selections made for this compilation are the radio-friendly singles, most of which the band has played and continues to play on tour. It’s not the band’s “best” material but it is bound to appease any listener. This is the collection that draws heavily upon the “Man on the Moon” and “Everybody Hurts” sects of the R.E.M. archives. Still, the archives are vast, which makes the ability to guess what tracks the band considers to be at the top of their lists nearly as difficult as deciphering Stipe’s lyrics.

Of course, a greatest-hits album that does not include the pre-WB material is still a worthy record. The fact of the matter is that the creative spark does tend to dim after such an extensive career.

At both their age and with their wealth, they have no need to continue writing music or touring. Yet, they still do so. Also, over their career that spanned two-plus decades, this is only the second time the band has attempted to release a greatest-hits record, both of which were only single discs. (“Eponymous” features tracks from their I.R.S. years.) These are signs of their dedication to their craft.

This is a good road-trip record, something to take for long drives and potential sing-alongs. It’s somewhere above ambient but below art, missing the points marks where R.E.M. showed off either their experimental side or shed light on their fun, drunken nights in the studio. It is neither their most dense nor their most complex material. Rather, it is their most agreeable.

frustration plantation

‘Often described as a Gothic Victorian cello-rock ensemble, Rasputina is bound to creep you the hell out.

Or not. They make music that T-Bone Burnett is bound to select for a film at some point. That is, if the Coen brothers ever made a Goth flick.

Cellos, drums, voice. That’s the only formula this trio uses to make music. It’s unique, to say the least.

After getting past the initial shock, the songs lend themselves to an unclassifiable but more approachable nature.

I’m not sure what it is or how to describe it. In that task, I’ve definitely failed. If a matter of personal opinion makes a difference, though, the songs begin humorously and soon turn to depressing. Nearly all of them remind me of that Crash Test Dummies song, “Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm.”

The album is different than just about anything else you’ll ever here and that novelty may be just enough reason to purchase this album. The songs are misplaced by a century and a quarter but that’s no reason for the record to just go directly on the shelf to collect dust. Give it at least one listen first.

good times coming back again

‘Old-fashioned working-class roots-rock is something that is overlooked too often nowadays.

Quality music with a message, held high over the laddered steps of folk music, is also something that is not easy to find. Many post-hardcore bands have reached into their socialist upbringings to cover the occasional traditional folk song with an updated edge. A punk version of a Phil Ochs or Pete Seeger song is easy to come by. Well-written, acoustic or soft-electric-driven originals with a purpose are difficult to find.

As a matter of fact, the only real and successful pioneer in that field over the past ten years, has been Ani DiFranco, and that may be the best contemporary to use as comparison for Greg MacPherson.

Canadian-born and blue-collar-proud writer Greg MacPherson’s second full-length CD, “Good Times Coming Back Again,” leans toward making him the male counterpart of DiFranco. Now that Ani has given up the message, though, he may be a queenless king.

His music is potent, his message is clear, and his voice is distinguishable, and at times its low vibrato and sometimes spoken-word rhythm is even reminiscent of DiFranco’s.

He has taken the singer/songwriter nature of his music and brought it one step further by rounding it out with a full band. The occasional synthesizer and effects pedal congeals into a rough finish over the music’s stripped-down sound, providing the songs with dimensions that can be twisted and turned around into a variety of vantage points.

The songs are like sonic Rubik’s cubes, presenting different tones and patterns with each of those twists and turns. Sometimes, it’s a struggle to align each side up with all of the same colors. Other times, it is the collision of varicolored shapes that creates beauty.

Ultimately, the sides are not too hard to line up. The songs are simple, honest, and forthright. The music makes you picture MacPherson in jeans and a white undershirt, sitting alone at the bar drinking a domestic beer; a picture often associated with similar sounding singing/songwriting trailblazer Bruce Springsteen.

Maybe, then, that’s a better comparison. He’s more of The Boss than an angry feminist.

http://www.flatulence-filter.com

‘Does your wind blow uncontrollably? How about your trumpet? Is it playing “Birth of the Uncool?”

Then the Flatulence Filter is for you. Originally known as TooT TrappeR, this helpful product can decrease the embarrassment caused by letting an excessive amount of unwanted ones fly.

Yes sir or ma’am, you’d better believe there’s a product out there that can help cut back on up to 90 percent of offensive odors at home, in the office or in the car. That’s right, this product is mobile. The Flatulence Filter is nothing more than an activated charcoal air filtration system built into the form of a pad or a seat cushion. Depending upon usage, the pad will last up to six months and the cushion can last up to a year. The Filter runs about $17 to $40 on average. The best part is, it fits on any seat!

This product has been tested and comes with a guarantee. The tested sounds painful.

According to a Reuters’ article, “Study subjects ate 200 grams of pinto beans on the night before the study plus 15 grams of lactulose two hours before gas collections. Researchers collected flatulus via rectal tubes from 16 healthy subjects…”

The article goes on to describe more about the testing process but that is not our concern. Rectal tubes? Hello!?! We hope these test subjects were paid a good deal of cash to have tubes stuck up their butts.

So, there’s a product out there that can take the bite out of your air biscuits. Now, it’s just a matter of weighing out the options on the embarrassment scale: is it worse to have the smell or to have something on your seat that lets everyone know you’re trying to cover up the stench, you stinky, stink person.

Just keep in mind, it will ONLY filter out the smell.

Complete information about farts can be found at http://www.heptune.com/farts.html. For more farting euphemisms, visit http://www.goofball.com/fart_list. For info on fart candy, visit http://www.biffleys.com/Novelty/fartcandy.htm. To find out more about the remote-control fart machine, visit http://www.fartmart.com/display.asp?sku=2. We could go on like this all day.

That’s the way they get by

‘”I think they were dead on,” begins Spoon mastermind Brit Daniel, when asked about how the critics placed “Kill the Moonlight,” the band’s most recent album, in the top 10 of 2002.

“It’s the best and most varied sounding record we’ve made. I listened to it the other day. People should get enjoyment from their records. You should make it for yourself. If you can’t listen to it, that’s a bad sign.”

Austin, Texas-based Spoon is gearing up for a tour and will most likely be taking their impressive catalogue of works on the road with them for van listening sessions.

“Rock band,” Daniel continues, in an effort to punctiliously describe the band’s sound. If a vague and somewhat simple sounding generic characterization is what he’s going for, then that bland phrase is what he’ll get.

“It sounds like twelve little monkeys picking bugs off each other’s backs.”

Daniel has been spending off-tour time writing new songs, as Spoon’s “other half” Jim Eno gallivants across the country assisting in numerous musical projects.

songs about running away

‘Why are albums so hard to define as either good or bad? A black-and-white answer seems like such a simple thing to give. Buy this album. Don’t ever listen to this person’s music again. This is the info we want to know. It’s what we want to be told. But there are too many variables. Each album is approached differently, depending upon what previous work this artist may have done, what other people have said and even what the cover may look like. There are an infinite number of different factors that play into an initial yes/no response to an album.

In Dennis Lyxzen’s case, his band credentials play a big factor in the way “Songs About Running Away” will be perceived. He first made his mark as a vocalist in the seminal post-hardcore band the Refused. The band was very cutting-edge. Their music crossed over multiple genres and was evenly tempered with Lyxzen’s vocals. To put it simply, their sound was hard. Then, he moved to The International Noise Conspiracy, which aligned itself with old soul and R&B music. They rocked out when necessary but let their short guitar licks and full rhythms play the most prominent role in their songwriting.

Now, with “The Lost Patrol,” Lyxzen tries the man-with-an-axe, stripped-down route. These songs do occasionally hint at TINC’s repertoire but it’s particularly well-suited for coffee shops and other such mellow settings. It’s got that slow-is-the-new-fast vibe tattooed across it.

That’s very minimalist of you, Dennis. Where do you go from here, a capella? Gregorian chant?

One thing can be verily stated, this is a long way from his days in the Refused. Whether the music is boring or a perfect and logical progression is up to you to decide.