Civet
- Hell Hath No Fury (Hellcat Records)
After listening to Civet, an aggressive
four piece femme fatale punk band, I went
back to check the title of the album. Hell
Hath No Fury is part of an old saying. “Hell
Hath No Fury Like A Woman’s Scorn.”
I guess they felt you’d figure it out
just by listening to the album, and they were
right!
On the cover of the album, the four gals
are dressed like waitresses’ at a bar.
Hot, tattooed, tight fitting dresses, not
your run of the mill waitresses‘. I
think if they waited on you they’d probably
put their cigarette out in your drink, and
stick their 3” heel into your shoe,
smiling all the while. Civet give the impression
that they’re definitely those bad girls
your mother warned you about!
But I digress. On Hell Hath No Fury, Civet
has created something basic, sexual, and thoroughly
punk! It’s a greasy, sleazy, leather-coated
punk rock stomp. Tongue-in-cheek ( “Take
Me Away,” “Son of a Bitch,”
are good examples), swagger that tends to
go outside the punk rock genre. So far out
of this world that it has it’s own solar
system, creating it’s own realm of hipness
and cultural relevance.
But don’t think that this is an album
of clichés and mind-numbing music.
The creative forces behind the album take
themselves pretty serious, yet manage not
only to sound fresh, but creative too.
Ms. (I sure she likes to be called MS.),
Liza Graves on lead vocals and guitar, Suzi
Homewrecker on vocals and guitar, Jacqui Valentine
on bass and vocals, and Danni Harrowyn on
drums have a charisma, and love of music that
shines through, without the grandstanding,
that’s infectious.
This isn’t apple-cheeked emo pop punk,
it’s the real, organic punk rock that
comes from the homegrown, indie music scene!
- Phil Rainone
Milton
- Grand Hotel (Maggadee Records)
You know how, when you first put on a new album,
you don’t really pay attention to the
words, or even the shape of the song? You just
listen to what it sounds like, just getting
the general feel?
When I first put on Milton’s new one,
Grand Hotel, what registered first
was this catchy, in-the-groove rock ‘n’
roll, and the voice of a guy with something
to say. As the songs glided by, the band was
clearly having a great time slipping from rhythm
to rhythm, finding the hooks, remembering old
tricks and inventing new ones. And the voice-
scratchy and determined, kept insisting that
there was a story to tell, and that it mattered.
What the story was, I had no idea at the time,
but I was particularly anxious to find out.
I liked the heft of the music, the purposefulness.
Playing it a second time, more and more parts
started to jump out. Like landmarks, they
located where you are, even if it isn’t
totally clear how you got there or where you’re
going.
It was on the second cut that I got my bearings,
and the album start to pull together. “Grand
Hotel” starts off with a cool, laid-back
beat. Then like Steve Forbert, with his raspy,
earthy vocals, Milton and the band chime in
sweet, and solid, with a backdrop anchored
by a heart-felt chorus that sounds as clear
as day. Stops you right in your tracks, and
you’re listen for it when the chorus
comes around again , same as in “Everybody
Loves You.” This is music that knows
it’s past, and steps right up and acknowledges
it- not for nostalgia’s sake, but to
place itself in that tradition.
On songs like “Sara Jane” or
“All the Time,” without time to
think, you feel yourself lifted up, reminded
where the music (and you) came from. You clear
away a little space once the music has grabbed
your attention, never mind the lyric sheet,
press kit, or who’s playing what, it’s
earned a closer listen.
I had gotten that same feeling seeing Southside
Johnny & La Bamba’s Big Band at
The Nokia Theater, in New York, a few weeks
ago. Johnny and the band had sidestepped all
those years of comparisons, and living the
shadows of Springsteen and the Asbury music
scene, creating an almost new genre, yet wrapping
the show in the tradition that has kept the
musicians creative and vibrant all these years.
Then you start separating out individual
cuts and the details within those cuts, like
on “Pretty Face” or “A Whole
Lotta Pain.” It’s as if we’re
on a search, and the band takes us on a journey-
effortlessly.
Finally, what this rich, compelling music
insists on is: that human beings never quite
get it right, and continue to need each other,
despite our faults. “Grand Hotel”
could be call a resistance record. But I doesn’t
resist caring too much: it resists giving
up.
- Phil Rainone
CD Reviews 
