 APRIL
SMITH & THE GREAT PICTURE SHOW – Songs
For A Sinking Ship (aprilsmithmusic.com)
A wise man once said (well, it was actually
the hardcore band Kraut) that sometimes you
have to look backwards to go forward. Case in
point: April Smith, whose charming new album
calls on the echoes of music halls, Broadway,
and Tin Pan Alley for a sassy, fresh approach
to American pop. You could easily see Smith
s belting out a ballad on a Broadway stage,
standing toe-to-toe and holding her own against
a Bernadette Peters or Bette Midler; she brings
the same pouting, coy, devilish sass to her
delivery (which is a major wow!) Whether she’s
being catty (“Drop Dead Gorgeous,”)
jealous (“Dixie Boy,”) or triumphant
over a romantic rival (“Wow And Flutter,”)
Smith slips from soulful jazz to brassy pop
with peerless aplomb. While her songwriting
remains uniformly first-rate throughout the
album, I almost wish she’d thrown a cover
on this album; I can think of half a dozen American
standards she’d absolutely slay. In fact,
a covers album in the style of Barry Manilow
or Rod Stewart might be just what Smith needs
to propel her from the Brooklyn underground
into the spotlight. In the meantime, though,
she’s doing in the indie world; she financed
this album with donations from her fans using
Kickstarter.com, an increasingly popular new
source of revenue for independent artists. Of
course, you have to be really good to get your
fans to pay for your next record. Me, I’m
ready to make a donation.
 TED
LEO & THE PHARMACISTS – The Brutalist
Bricks (Matador)
You have to hand it to Ted Leo: At 39, with
his fan base pretty much set in concrete at
this point, he’s still pushing himself
to the limits. He’s outlived his last
two labels, survived several personnel changes
to his excellent backing band the Pharmacists,
and remains undaunted at his inability to break
into the mainstream, still fighting the good
fight and writing music that bristles with passion,
and idealism. He’s always been a bit of
an odd duck – a Jersey-bred singer/songwriter
who infuses his music with his Irish-American
roots and love of punk/hardcore/reggae fusion
– but really, try to think of another
figure in the Amerindie underground with Leo’s
political voice and unquestioned integrity.
Brutalist Bricks revisits many of the tropes
that Leo’s used in the past, from his
love of Celtic folk music (and Irish tenor falsetto)
to the Pharmacists’ terse mastery of Jamaican
rhythms, but somehow this album seems more complete
and uniform than the somewhat helter-skelter
Living With The Living from two years ago. “The
Mighty Sparrow” and “Even Heroes
Have To Die” immediately join “Where
Have All The Rude Boys Gone” in the Pantheon
of Leo crowdpleasers, sure to be live staples
for years to come. On the Elvis Costello-ish
“One Polaroid A Day,” Leo sets aside
his beloved falsetto to sing in his lower register,
a challenging change of pace. The opening line
of “Ativan Eyes” makes you think
it’ll be some sort of people’s manifesto
(“the industry’s out of touch/The
means of production are now in the hands of
the workers,”) or possibly a diatribe
against Big Pharm for lulling us all into a
drug-induced calm (Ativan being the biggest-selling
anti-anxiety pill on the market,) but when he
shouts “I’m sick of cynicism, give
me something to believe in,” you realize
the song’s really about the complacency
we all swallow every day without even thinking
about it. That’s really what Ted Leo’s
for, when you get right down to it: Somebody
to kick us in the ass every now and then, rouse
us from our lethargy, and remind us in the power
of rock ‘n’ roll to heal the world.
It won’t be easy – those brutalist
bricks keep flying to all of our faces –
but Ted Leo’s there to remind us that
we at least have to try.
 TITUS
ANDRONICUS – The Monitor (XL Records)
Sloppy, off key, artistically ambitious but
self-indulgent to extremes, this second album
from Jersey punks Titus Andronicus will undoubtedly
rank as one of the most important releases out
of the Garden State this year... but also as
one of the most annoying. Frontman Patrick Stickles
bellows, croaks, and rasps like a drunken Conor
Oberst throughout this 65-minute opus, which
starts out as a concept album about the Civil
War – the first three minutes of the first
track actually sticks to the storyline –
but quickly devolves to the topic Stickles inevitably
always sings about – himself, and his
love/hate relationship with his home state of
New Jersey. He artlessly swipes lines from Springsteen
(“tramps like us, baby we were born to
die”) and warbles off-key as if he can’t
be concerned with such mundane notions as melody;
unnecessary and hard-to-understand spoken word
samples include Craig Finn reading Walt Whitman
and the Vivian Girls’ Cassie Ramone reciting
a speech by Jeff Davis; Jenn Wasner of Wye Oak
adds a painfully pitchy vocal on “To Old
Friends And New.” Titus Andronicus succeed
when they take a simple idea and hammer it home
in big catchy Bouncing Souls choruses like “the
enemy is everywhere” or “you’ll
always be a loser,” repeated ad infinitum
until you can’t help but sing along (and
even better when fortified with barrelhouse
piano and roadhouse sax.) The band fails –
epically - in turning three-minute punk and
drinking songs into eight to 14-minute prog-rock
odysseys. There’s simply neither the thought
nor the musicianship here to sustain that sort
of excess. Take “The Battle Of Hampton
Roads,” which starts out as a fairly engrossing
tale of a Civil War battle but keeps going long
after it’s worn out its welcome and its
ideas, until – just when you think this
album couldn’t possibly get any more annoying
– they bring in five minutes of bagpipes.
Stickles & Co. no doubt think they’ve
released the new millennium’s Born To
Run here, but it’s more like Meat Loaf
IV: Bat Out Of Tune.
 BRYAN
SCARY & THE SHREDDING TEARS – “Mad
Valentines” EP (Old Flame)
Brooklyn’s Bryan Scary cobbles together
vaudevillian pop tropes, synth-fueled disco
beats, Beatles harmonies, and a few prog-rock
freakouts on this engaging 5-song EP. Fans of
the faux-Carnaby Street stylings of NJ’s
Anderson Council will adore the gaily retro
flourishes on tracks like “The Red Umbrella,”
while the nostalgic piano intro of “The
Garden Eleanor” has the melancholic sting
of a long-lost Harry Nilsson track. Yes, it’s
all a bit mannered and twee, the Pet Shop Boys
having afternoon tea with Harvey Danger perhaps;
but a spoonful of sugar often helps the indie-rock
go down. (www.oldflamerecords.com)
 THE
COURTESY TIER – Map And A Marker (thecourtesytier.com)
Remember when the White Stripes were a novelty?
Now the idea of a two-person band in indie-rock
is commonplace; add to the list The Courtesy
Tier - Omer Leibovitz (guitar/vocals) and Layton
Weedeman (drums/vocals,) who infuse this 5-song
EP with a finely honed sense of dread. There’s
something almost creepy in the droning vocals
and frenetic tempos, a nuanced sense of urban
menace that helps the stripped-down arrangements
hold your interest. Melding basic blues tropes
with sinuous, deceptively intricate world-beat
rhythms, the clarity and focus of these five
songs parlay the adage “less is more”
into a beguiling introduction to a band I’ll
be listening for in the future.
 THE
DIMES – The King Can Drink The Harbour
Dry (www.thedimes.com)
This Portland band’s exquisite take on
folk-rock (reminding me of both Nick Drake and
early Simon & Garfunkle) comes complete
with lessons in American history; each song
tells a story, usually couched in a first person
narrative. “Save Me, Clara,” for
instance, invokes Red Cross founder Clara Barton
from the point of view of a solider dying on
the battlefield; the title track is inspired
by the Boston tea party, and there are similarly-themed
tracks that reference Winslow Homer, Susan B.
Anthony, Quaker martyr Mary Dyer (hanged in
1660 pursuing religion freedom,) the great Boston
fire of 1872, and reviled judge Webster Thayer
(who condemned Sacco & Vanzetti to death.)
Yes, the lyrics will send you running to Wikipedia;
but even if you don’t delve into the history
behind the songs, the enchanting folk-pop arrangements
– infused with layers of cello, pedal
steel, piano, vocal harmonies, and acoustic
and electric guitars – provide a cozy,
inviting listening experience.
 DREW
& THE MEDICINAL PEN – Heavy Head (myspace.com/
drewandthemedicinalpen)
I once played a gig at some long-forgotten
dive bar in Williamsburg and met a kid on the
bill named Drew Hawthorne. He wasn’t even
legal yet and shouldn’t have even been
in the bar, as I recall, but I only had to hear
him play once to know I’d be hearing from
him again. Fast forward a few years and that
kid is now the force behind Drew & The Medicinal
Pen, darlings of DIY Brooklyn lofts, veterans
of several tours, and releasing their second
album, Heavy Head. A masterpiece of low-cost
(but not lo-fi) DIY recording, this album has
a lovely, elegant sound, peppered with strings,
xylophone, acoustic guitars, even what sounds
like a toy piano. Drew’s engaging vocals
instantly segue from intimate breathy whispers
to bratty shouts, and the man knows how to write
a melody. His lyrics can be by turns clever,
confessional, romantic, sexy, and ironic; when
he strips things down to vocals and acoustic
guitar on the playful “Waiting Song,”
it sounds like he’s playing in your living
room. But that’s followed immediately
by the orchestral “Tomorrow Will Make
It Up,” a delicious pop song with ginchy
backup vocals and a beautiful melody line played
on a violin. The talent here is abundant, palpable,
and largely undiscovered. You guys really need
to fix that.
 GOD
FIRES MAN – Life Like (Arctic Rodeo)
Of everybody I’ve ever known in music,
Artie Shepherd’s the guy who’s been
there, done that: Teenage ground-breaking hardcore
band (Mind Over Matter), deeply respected but
commercially unviable indie-rock demi-gods (Errortype:
11), major label crash-and-burn (Instruction),
critically-hailed irony-laden post-punk side
project (Gay For Johnny Depp), and now God Fires
Man, a band virtually unheard of in their hometown
that tours to mass acclaim all over Europe.
Go figure. So Artie tends bar in Brooklyn between
tours and continues to create masterful Nineties
hard rock under the radar of the music industry
he so obviously (and rightfully) despises. God
Fires Man (with Instruction’s Joseph Grillo,
ex-Into drummer Another Drew Thomas, and bassist
John Wilkinson constructs the same brand of
explosive hard rock – perhaps slightly
less bombastically – as the doomed Instruction,
with the kind of monster hooks that once ruled
commercial radio (think: Smashing Pumpkins,
Soundgarden, Jane’s Addiction.) Shepherd’s
corrosive wit informs both lyrics and song titles
(“Procreating Atheists,” “The
Future Is Old: Obey The Past,” “I’m
(Worth) More Dead Than Alive,”) as he
snidely drawls anthemic proclamations like “I’ve
lived my life, at least I’ve tried, so
I don’t mind, I don’t mind.”
The band swings, Shepherd wails, and Life Like
prevails as the best hard rock album that nobody
heard in 2009. Shame on you.
 GOLDSPOT
– And The Elephant Is Dancing (www.goldspot.net)
L.A.’s Goldspot is principally singer/songwriter
Siddhartha Khosla, who surrounds his romantically
twee pop songs with the sort of lush production
associated with Bollywood soundtracks and Cher’s
disco hits. Sleighbells and finger cymbals clang
behind synths and electric guitars, sounding
like what you’d might get from a sugar-coated,
completely disposable clone of Modest Mouse.
If you’re looking for some light listening,
nothing here offends, but there’s really
no reason to go back to it either.
 GREENLAND
IS MELTING – Our Hearts Are Gold, Our
Grass Is Blue (greenlandismelting.bandcamp.com)
Not every band from Gainesville, Florida sounds
like Jawbreaker or Less Than Jake. GIM play
rootsy back porch folk with fiddle, banjo, finger-pickin’
bluegrass licks, and lots of sweet vocal harmonies.
The Gainesville influence can be heard not in
the sounds – which are all folkie/country/bluegrass
– but in the attitude and the lyrics,
which can be cheeky, irreverent, and self-deprecatingly
funny. Fans of Whiskey & Co. or Illinois
will want to check out these hillbilly punks.
 THE
SERLINGTONS – Dukes Of Haggard (Parlor
City)
The Serlingtons certainly don’t make
any secret of their influences, but they do
a nice job to mashing them up to create something
a lot more fun and original than the usual rote
Ramonescore. You’ll hear echoes of early
Descendents, “TV Party”-era Black
Flag, Screeching Weasel and the Queers (especially
on the catchy solo on “Parlor City Blues,”)
all delivered with solid musicianship and ebullient
(if not exactly on key) vocals that capture
the adolescent excitement about being in a band
that’s at the heart of all good punk.
“Where I Stand” is a semi-acoustic
proclamation of selfhood – the Serlingtons’
“Acknowledge,” if you will –
but most everything else is just silly fast
punk-rock tunes about beer and girls, which
is the way it’s supposed to be. 10 songs
that fly by in no time at all but will leave
you with a tapping toe and a smile. –
 BEN
FRANKLIN – Optimist (Self-released)
On their debut self-released full-length, Brooklyn's
Ben Franklin mash together some unlikely influences
– thrashy punk, spastic funk freakouts,
poppy ba-ba-ba choruses – and somehow
make it all work. The frantic, technical guitar
parts and elastic lead vocals come courtesy
of Billy Gray (ex-Meltdowns,) while the bouncy
basslines and backup vox belong to Eddie Garza
(ex-One & Only Typicals, Imperialists,)
with ubiquitous Asbury Park sessionperson Sarah
Tomek keeping up with the guys on the frenetic
drum parts. Songs like “Tell Me How You
Really Feel” and “Drink To Forget”
segue from booty-shaking funk workouts to head-bopping
Beatlesque bridges, while “Montclair”
tones things down a notch for romantic reminiscence.
Imagine Cheap Trick jamming with the Minutemen
and you might get an idea of Ben Franklin’s
potent pop/funk fusion. Turn it up, and get
ready to dance. (www.wearebenfranklin.com)
 DARREN
GAINES AND THE KEY PARTY – My Blacks Don’t
Match (myspace.com/thekeypartynyc)
On their second album (the first was released
under the name The Key Party,) Darren Gaines
and his impressive backup band incorporate horns
and strings to augment a mix of downbeat jazz-infused
rock and blues. There’s a hint of N’Orleans
in there too, as well as a pretty acoustic ballad
or two. The orchestrations and arrangements
really sell these songs, precisely augmenting
Gaines’ pensive lyrics but never overpowering
the melodies. Gaines’ low-key vocal style,
which ranges from a baritone croon to talking
blues, invokes gutter poets like Tom Waites
and Nick Cave, with a bit of Mark Knopfler (and
even a little latterday Steve Wynn.) That’s
not a bad list of influences, making My Blacks
Don’t Match a perfect rainy day record
for those times when you feel like something
a little soulful and sad on your stereo. –
, www.JerseyBeat.com
 THE
CREETONS – Tyler Goes To College (myspace.com/thecreetons)
As the title implies, the Creetons are growing
up. The NJ power trio drives that point home
by expanding their basic pop-punk palette with
some nice acoustic guitar and a far less raw
sound than on their earlier releases. This 8-song
album starts out strong with “In My Basement”
– for my money, the most fully-realized
Creetons track yet – and “She’s
Got Some Dude In The Military,” the token
lovesick-about-a-girl tune here (great line:
“the only uniform you ever wear is the
one of a broken heart.”) “Tyler’s
Song” lets the band’s bassist flex
the Creetons’ ska-punk muscles, while
“I Wanna Be Under Attack” –
with its chugga-chugga guitars and doo-woppy
backing vox – has a bit of a Clash vibe;
although, again, it’s a less punk, more
pop sounding Creetons here than we’ve
heard before. “Coffee Asshole” is
an acoustic demo showcasing lead singer/guitarist
Gabe; “Friday Spent Alone” is a
bit of a throwback to the punkier, thrashier
Creetons sound. There’s also an acoustic
version of “Military” and a demo
of “In My Basement.” The biggest
compliment I can pay this band is that they’re
reminding me more and more of a young Ergs!,
and I can’t wait to hear where they go
next. –
 THE
BLACK HOLLIES – Softly Towards The Light
(Ernest Jenning Record Co.)
On their third full-length, Jersey City, NJ’s
Black Hollies follow the same psychedelic muse
that inspired their earlier recordings, recycling
the lush, mind-expanding sounds of progenitors
like the Byrds, Stones, and early Pink Floyd.
With guitarist Jon Gonnelli devoting most of
his attention this time around to keyboards
(recreating classic sounds with vintage Hammond
B-3, Farfisa, Vox, and even a Wurlitzer organ,)
the music’s even denser, swirlier, and
trippier than ever. But there’s something
in Justin Morey’s deft songwriting and
evocative vocals that make the Black Hollies
more than a nostalgia trip; there’s a
vitality here that makes this music sound current
and alive, not retro and dated. And it’s
just in time for the sixth (or is it seventh?)
Beatles revival! (www.ernestjenning.com)
WHAT HAPPENED? – “This Is Our Life”
EP (myspace.com/whathappenedmusic)
This is the Ergsiest thing I’ve heard
since the Ergs broke up; which is not to say
that Philly’s What Happened? are derivative,
but merely that they tap into the same vein
of early SST crunchy punk (with a heavy dose
of Descendents, and a little of Weston’s
Delaware Valley nerd-angst.) Speedy guitar riffs,
throbbing bass lines, descending chord changes,
and head-bouncing Jawbreaker rhythms pound these
songs into your head while song titles like
“I Trusted Holden Caulfield” and
“Every Jacket Is Two Jackets” add
ironic panache; the 20-second “Reading”
channels “Stink”-era Replacements.
Good stuff.
 THE
IMPULSE INTERNATIONAL – Point of Action
(Dirtnap Records)
Julius Buck – aka Adam Rabuck, former
lead singer of Jersey pop/punk icons Dirt Bike
Annie – leads this Florida-based combo
through a stellar album of yummy power-pop,
with a heavy nod towards late Seventies/early
Eighties icons like Richard Hell, Joe Jackson,
and the Real Kids’ John Felice. With JD
Romeo on bass, Rob C. Sterling on drums, and
Peter Picasso on keyboards, Point Of Action
delivers one bubblegum hit after another, with
zingy guitar leads, giddy vocals, and head-bobbing
rhythms. “Pretty girls on Jersey Avenue,
pretty girls who show you what to do, oh oh
oh, whoa oh oh oh.” I mean, really, does
it get any better than that? (www.dirtnaprecs.com)
 VISQUEEN
– Message To Garcia (Local 638 Records)
With big ballsy melodies and shadings of new-wave
power-pop, Visqueen brings to mind 80’s
bands like Holly & The Italians (or the
even more obscure Pearl Harbor & The Explosions)
who weren’t afraid to rock out and have
fun with their music. If those names don’t
ring a bell, just try to imagine a female-fronted
Cheap Trick and you’ll get the idea. Rachel
Flotard (frequent backup singer for Neko Case,
stepping to the forefront here) can belt out
a tune like a latterday Kim Warnick, which makes
sense since the album was produced by none other
than the Fastbacks’ Kurt Bloch. “
Hand Me Down,” “Fight For Love,”
and “The Capitol” recall the days
when bands in small clubs could aspire to arena-rock
intensity without coming off as either cheesy
or ironically self-mocking. And while I’m
no fan of power ballads most of the time , cello
and piano make “So Long” a truly
beautiful change of pace here. (www.local638records.com)
 FRANK
TURNER – Poetry Of The Deed (Epitaph)
This is British singer/songwriter Frank Turner’s
third solo album, following a fairly successful
career in the hardcore punk band Million Dead,
and yet it’s the first time I’ve
heard him. My bad. Poetry Of The Deed bristles
with clever wordplay, fist-pumping melodies,
and eloquent sentiment, whether Turner’s
thrashing away by himself on acoustic guitar
and harp (“Dan’s Song,”) or
performing in full-band mode. Turner continually
returns to the theme of lost idealism here,
even as he struggles to retain his own, on soul-searching
tracks like “Richard Divine,” “Our
Lady of the Campfire,” and the spiritual
“Journey of the Magi,” which mixes
imagery from the Bible and the Odyssey. But
the real standout here is the DIY anthem “Try
This At Home,” in which Turner tells his
listeners to take back their music from the
rock stars and the businessmen and make it their
own: “So let’s write love songs
in C, and let’s do politics in G, and
let’s sing songs about our friends in
E Minor; so turn out the stars now and take
up your guitars, and come on folks and try this
at home.” (www.epitaph.com)
SCREAMING
FEMALES – Power Move (Don Giovanni Records)
The New Brunswick power trio returns with its
third full-length, and although Power Move
offers a decided sonic upgrade on the band’s
first two DIY releases, it’s still got
a gritty rawness, like those early Husker Du
albums that were recorded live in the studio
at 4 am to maximize studio time and minimize
cost. Guitarist/vocalist Marissa Paternoster’s
mind-bending shredding and bleating stream-of-consciousness
vocals remain at the forefront of the band’s
strikingly original sound; in fact, the Screaming
Females present such a challenge to the usual
“they sound like this and were influenced
by that” mentality that it’s almost
as if the band offers up a blank slate upon
which each listener (or critic) imposes his
or her own set of referents. Where I might detect
echoes of Lydia Lunch, X Ray Spex, and the Pixies,
a more classic-rock tuned listener might hear
Jimi and Janis. Paternoster’s free-form
jamming seems to have been reined in a bit on
this release, and the band’s definitely
incorporating more traditional melodies, less,
uh, screaming, and more – for want of
a better word – hooks than in the past,
but the Screamales’ tumultuous creativity
still reigns supreme on stellar tracks like
“Bell,” “I Believe In Evil,”
and “Halfway Down.” (Again, another
listener – or critic – could easily
name three other standout songs which tickle
their own particular fancies.) My one quibble
would be the overwhelming BDARG (big dirty-ass
rhythm guitar) sound in the mix, which swallows
all frequencies and reduces Jarrett’s
drums to a skittering white-noise background
of high-hat and snare, and robs King Mike’s
bass of its potential bottom-hugging rumble.
More bass and heavier drums would not only beef
up the Screaming Females’ sound but also
increase potential appeal to metalheads, although
the sheer precociousness of Marissa’s
intricate guitar solos is usually enough to
convert even the most devout worshippers of
Malsteen and Mountain to the Screaming Females’
unique fusion of post-punk-shredder-screamy-core.
 RICK
BARRY - "This Antediluvian World"
EP (myspace.com/rickbarryband)
Asbury Park's Rick Barry first came to my
attention as a political folksinger; I still
think his "Courage For A Rainy Day"
(about a friend who joins the military and goes
off to Iraq) and "Stupid American Song"should
be remembered as among the finest songwriting
about the Bush era. But the man's shown a stubborn
resistance to being pigeonholed; he's played
solo and with rock bands, written love songs
as well as wry, self-deprecating odes to his
generation's follies. Moreover, I always thought
he had a problem editing himself; too often,
his songs went on for a few extra verses. Tighten
those tracks up to three-minute pop songs, and
maybe he'd be playing to wider audiences than
a few loyal fans and his fellow musicians at
the Jersey shore. But on "This Antediluvian
World," Barry finally figures it all out;
his current band, the New Rick Barrys, finds
a perfect balance between folk and rock without
sounding like "folk/rock." Even the
trumpet that brings a sly "Sgt. Pepper"-esque
fillip to the EP's standout track makes sense.
Rick Barry has found his voice on this disc,
and that's all there is to say about it - a
prosaic, melodic, workmanlike vocal enhanced
and sweetened by the judicious use of guest
backup singers (including Jersey stalwarts Val
Emmich, Eryn Sewell, and Allie Moss;) a songwriter
who brings evocative images to inventive rhyming
skills and an impeccable sense of meter; a confident
monologist with the storytelling skills of Randy
Newman. "Atlantis" - a brilliant metaphor
that ties the fabled sunken city to the ruined
landscape of post-Katrina New Orleans - captures
the human sorrow of that tragedy without pointing
fingers (except, perhaps, to the finger of God
- "I don't need your pity, God, I've got
all the pity a man could want," sings the
protagonist.) " Barry's sharp wit comes
to the fore in "All Of Your Mistakes Have
Names" - the aforementioned standout cut
- an upbeat pop tune that recounts the sexual
misadventures of a variety of twentysomethings
before taking an unexpected turn toward redemption
and hope. Of course, this wouldn't be Rick Barry
if he wasn't at least a bit morose and creepy,
and for that we have the self-loathing pep talk
"Richard. Please" and the morbid relationship
song, "On Our Way Home (From New England,)"
with the haunting phrase "post-mortem starlight
looks better on me." Inventive, poetic,
memorably engaging and distinctly personal,
"This Antediluvian World" is the record
that truly announces the arrival of Rick Barry.
To borrow a line from another era but the same
stretch of boardwalk, greetings from Asbury
Park.
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