 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.
BILLY RAYGUN – “Seasick” EP
(Traffic Street Records)
For as much as they summed up a dozen disparate
influences, the Ergs now find themselves influencing
a new generation of bands. Case in point: New
Hampshire’s Billy Raygun, whose debut
EP marks the first time I’ve actually
thought a different band really, really sounded
like the Ergs. The zippy riffage and descending
bassline that smack you in the face on “Machine”
really hammer home that comparison (think: “Introducing
Mr. Morrissey” or “Trouble In River
City”) but the thumping drums, boyish
vocals, melodic basslines, and outright catchiness
all mark Billy Raygun as a new pop-punk band
to watch for. All five songs here have a bright,
earnest energy, strong melodies, and the kind
of hooks that keep you coming back for repeated
listens. If they can manage to get in the van
and hit the road, we’ll all be singing
along before you know it.
 BEEP
BEEP – Enchanted Islands (Saddle Creek)
On their second album (and first in five years,)
Beep Beep throw quirky stop-start tempos, falsetto
vocals, burbling synths, and frenetic guitars
at you with unrelenting artsiness. For the casual
listener, it can be overwhelming and - with
a penchant for 4-minute songs that might work
better edited down to 2:30 – even a bit
tedious. When Beep Beep slows things down, there’s
a lysergic spaciness afoot that sounds like
Ween foraging through one of their psychedelic
jazz odysseys. For the ADD afflicted or anyone
who regards math-rock as a favorite genre, the
spastic quick-fingered tunes should provide
a few moments of Zen; and the whole thing probably
sounds really good on drugs.
 A
LOVE LIKE PI – Atlas & The Oyster
(Thriving Records)
I’ve had a couple of A Love Like Pi tracks
on my iPod for a while now, after discovering
them at a Battle of the Bands in their native
Asbury Park a few years ago. Now here finally
comes the band’s debut full-length, which
like those early demo tracks focuses on a combination
of synthesizer-driven emo-pop with punk accoutrements
(gang vocal choruses, sonic guitars, dance rhythms,
and occasional change-of-pace instrumentation
like acoustic guitar and harmonica.) In parts,
A Love Like Pi goes a little too far in mimicking
the commercial but stylistically dead-ended
excesses of Fearless Records-style emo, with
high-pitched, autotuned vocals and bubblegum
synthesizer riffs drowning out any shred of
individuality. But I like the fact that the
band’s challenged itself here to attempt
an Early November-ish concept record, dividing
the album into two parts, the Atlas and the
Oyster. Like a lot of concept albums and rock
operas, I don’t really get the concept
or understand the plot, but at least they’re
making the attempt. And in so doing, the band
incorporates enough different concepts –
driving rock guitars, electro-pop riffs, danceable
beats, and engrossing lyrics about the ephemeral
power of love – to keep them from being
just another collection of cool haircuts and
tight jeans, without any ambitions beyond getting
signed or getting laid. This band is actually
trying to say something with its music, and
for that alone I give A Love Like Pi props.
 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.
 MEET
ME IN MONTAUK - “You Don’t Understand”
(Furious George)
Although New Brunswick’s best known for
basement hardcore shows, keep in mind that it’s
still very much a college town, with more than
its share of what we used to call “college-rock”
bands. Case in point: Meet Me In Montauk, guided
by the ying/yang of youthful singer/songwriter
Andrew Goulburn and longtime scene veteran Pete
Horvath (of Mod-revivalists Anderson Council)
on bass. (Horvath is no longer an active member
of the band, but his musicianship, vocals, and
songwriting clearly play a big role in this
EP.) Billy Perez on guitar and Bob Hackimer
on drums complete the recording ensemble. Throw
the Gripweeds’ Kurt Weil into the mix
on Hammond organ (he also recorded the project
at his House of Vibes studio) and you’ve
got a pretty unstoppable lineup with a potent
(and diverse) confluence of influences. Like
the late, great Bionic Rhoda (who ruled the
Brunfuss indie scene a decade ago,) MMIM has
its jammy moments, producing a sort of thinking-man’s
frat-rock on nimble radio-ready pop tunes like
“New Brunswick,” “Girls Got
You Down,” and “Summertime”
(songs that any John Mayer fan would certainly
embrace.) The band cranks up the tempo for some
high-spirited R.E.M.-flavored guitar jangle
on “121231231,” but the piece de
resistance comes on the final track, “Seventy-five
Days.” With Reil cranking the Hammond
organ behind an irresistible pop melody, Goulbourn
sings sweetly of sun-swept California girls
as the band revisits the Paisley Underground
psychedelic-pop scene of the Eighties. There’s
nothing not to like here and plenty for funs
of both modern rock and 60’s pop to get
behind. (myspace.com/mmim)
 DOUBLETHINK
– “Seeing Red” EP (www.doublethinkonline.com)
They might just be the last great American
grunge band, although I’m sure this Connecticut
quartet would prefer I call them almost anything
else. So how about powerful, tuneful, emotional,
sweeping, dramatic, soaring, captivating? Like
the Smashing Pumpkins before them, Doublethink
wrestles (successfully, I might add) with the
conundrum of writing meaningful and personal
alt-rock songs that sound like they should be
played in arenas. The difference, of course,
is that the Pumpkins made it to the stadium
circuit, while Doublethink - fronted by charismatic
singer/guitarist Scott Brown – hasn’t.
But through multiple lineup changes and uncounted
fluctuations in public taste, Brown has remained
true to his vision: These are big beautiful
hard-htting rock songs that deserve to be heard.
Listen up, America. You don’t know what
you’re missing.
 TRUNKS
& TALES – Tour EP (myspace.com/trunkstales)
Daniel Anderson and Justin Lutz combine their
acoustic guitars and voices to form Trunks &
Tales, currently on an East Coast tour and promoting
this self-released, self-recorded 5 song EP.
This is the new folk music, written and performed
by young eople influenced more strongly by Bad
Religion than Bob Dylan, nurtured in a sub-culture
that prizes playing to a dozen rabid listeners
in a basement over a hundred thousand drunks
in a football stadium. The songs are written
and performed with raw honesty, with rough-hewn
voices and strummed acoustics, occasionally
bolstered by electric guitars, harmonica, and
organ. Trunks & Tales sing about idealism
without irony, bare their souls without self-pity,
and truly believe that they can change the world,
one living room at a time.
DIPSOMANIACS
– Social Crutch (FDRlabel.com)
If you connect the dots from the Replacements
through the Smithereens through Fountains of
Wayne, the other end of that line would eventually
intersect South Jersey garage-rockers Dipsomaniacs.
Like the ‘Mats, they’ll occasionally
crank out an affecting youth anthem that cuts
to the core of what being young is all about
(“Kids On Base,”) but more often
than not, they’ll pen some witty pop ditty
with big Nick Lowe-ish power-pop chords built
around a groan-inducing pun (“Oh Jose.”)
(Hey, that’s okay, I like punks.) There’s
almost one good ol’ alt-country twang’er
about getting drunk (“Blame It On The
Gin,”) and every Dipsomaniacs album comes
with its complement of irresistible pop tunes
that, in a better world, we’d hear on
the radio every ten minutes (“Together
We Can Rule The World,” “Halo Around
You.”) So you could say that Social Crutch
perfectly follows the Dipsomaniacs’ formula,
in that the album serves up impeccable pop songcraft
with top-notch musicianship, viral melodies,
and a wicked sense of humor. In fact, they can
keep repeating themselves until hell freezes
over as far as I’m concerned.
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