>>Nostalgia For Infinity

And here we are, the very last review of 2011. (I admit that to engineer this feat of scheduling I had to queue this to be posted four hours after this morning’s review of We’ll Go Machete, which I recommend you go read now if you’ve not yet done so.) It’s an emotional moment.

By the time you read this, though, I’ll hopefully be chock full of all the booze and rolling around on the floor alongside the best of times. Happy New Year’s Eve! Happy parties! Whatever! I just hope you’re having a good time and that, if you’re reading this in 2012, that you’re not still feeling the effects of whatever over-indulgence you indulged in.

And so, the Bombpops, a band brought to us courtesy of the label Red Scare Records and the city San Diego. This here is only their second EP, but they’ve managed to hit the nail on the head of the pop-punk formula already. And okay, it’s a formula, and okay, that makes it formulaic, but who cares when the hooks sink so deep and the melodies are so affecting?

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These days it’s so easy to describe music as post-hardcore that the term has almost lost meaning. Still, if to you post-hardcore still recalls Fugazi, Shellac, Drive Like Jehu, Quicksand or even more modern mathy outfits like These Arms Are Snakes and (my personal favourites) Future of the Left, it’s highly probable that you’ll derive a great deal of pleasure from We’ll Go Machete’s Strong Drunk Hands.

Angular as all hell is this: dropping sinister looping proto-industrial post-punk riffs like pipebombs among rhythmically shouted vocals and cyborg* drumming, it’s clear from the outset that We’ll Go Machete have happened upon the secret ingredient that makes post-hardcore function. They’ve added a few ingredients of their own, too, because this is not weakly imitative music. Despite the majority of the bands that influenced this band hailing from the long-forgotten and mysterious decade that was the 1990s, We’ll Go Machete have a character that sets them apart.

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When I first read about and heard Rhode Island’s Sharks Come Cruisin I mentally slotted them into place alongside American punk bands who play a spin on Irish folk music, ala. the Dropkick Murphys or the Real Mackenzies. I am prepared to admit that this was stupid and wrong. Actually, Sharks Come Cruisin are more like… hmm. They’re more like a bunch of punks on a replica 18th century seafaring vessel who like the idea of drinking and singing a whole lot more than sailing. Now that’s a sentiment I can get behind!

Equally, if the idea of sea shanties played by guys with electric guitars and a drum kit strikes you as being a little incongruous you may as well move along. There’s always something odd about such bands, and I get that people find it a bit weird – even when it’s presented in a fashion as obviously ridiculous as, say, Alestorm.

Still, for those who like music that stands out purely by dint of being idiosyncratic and fun, Sharks Come Cruisin do have a fair bit to offer. Live I can imagine the band being a lot of fun; on record, perhaps less so, although to glean maximum enjoyment from A Past We Forget That We Need To Know I suggest indulging in some drinking. With a measure of rum and a dose of ascorbic to stave off scurvy, you need nothing more.

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It’s a little hard for me to write about Banquets. This–I will explain for the benefit of newcomers–is because a little over a year ago I reviewed an EP of theirs. Then, a few months ago, I reviewed a split that they released.

You may notice that the tone between those two reviews shifts a little. During the first review they were a new band to me. I liked them but wanted more from them. During the second review I still felt they lacked a little something, but by god did I ramble upon about just why I like Banquets as a band.

Irrelevant, irreverent context: after my first review one of the dudes in the band emailed me to thank me for a thoughtful review. After the second review, they didn’t even link it from their Facebook. Yep: my review sounded like the expurgation of an embarrassing fan.

(That’s unfair on both Banquets and myself. I just thought it might prove amusing. In fact, it’s probably only that my review emerged long after the release of the split.)

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It’s a source of some pleasure for me that, even as I wind up Nostalgia For Infinity’s lengthy stint as a full-time music reviewing site (if you can call 2/3 reviews a week “full time” – although coming from just one guy, I suppose the description is fair), I’m able to return to artists I’ve previously subjected to my words and thoughts. And here’s Ghost Robot Ninja Bear, the ‘new’ project from Oscar Albis Rodriguez – a man who has, in the past, played with luminaries such as Nakatomi Plaza, Ludlow Lions and, er, The Dexter Lake Club Band, “NYC’s premier wedding band”. Well, maybe weddings in NYC are way cooler than they are here in Sussex.

I last reviewed the excellently and absurdly named GRNB in September ’10 when I took a look at an EP rounding up a collection of singles from the preceding year; I was duly impressed. Rodriguez is a man with some chops, a fact which – even if not immediately obvious from his impressive songwriting – becomes clear when you recognise that the band features numerous other musicians, mostly drawn from bands with which Rodriguez has had some involvement in the past. And yet so few people mention them! So hey, shout outs to Geoff Kraly, Gunnar Olson, Jordan Melkin, Brendan Coon and Al Fair (I particularly dig Bridge & Tunnel, so extra kudos to that dude).

So here we have GRNB’s first full-length release, and it’s an impressive collection of tunes. As with the earlier EP and singles the songs on offer are fundamentally poppy but technically considered and proficient; despite being catchy and immediate they’re possessed of delightful depth. ‘The Curtain Call’, for example, has a strong 90s EpiFat punk rock vibe to it, laying down staccato rhythms in the verse and marrying the vocal delivery to that, with more straightforward choruses to keep things powering forwards. And yet even within a song so obviously, straightforwardly pop-punk, there’s impressive use of dynamics and digital effects to spice up the mix.

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Okay, straight up. You know it and I know it. Despondenseas is a terrible name. In the leagues of puns, it sinks below the sort of material your dad might come out with. “A dyslexic man walks into a bra.” Oh god! We’re almost talking teen poetry on LiveJournal sort of territory here. Earlier today I read an, uh, ‘poem’ on DeviantArt titled ‘Last Resort 2‘. You laugh at it, and then you feel pity. Damn, dude, you put that shit on the internet?

Fortunately, and I’m genuinely happy to share this fact, Stand Your Ground rise above that title. It doesn’t feel like there’s any sense of irony about it; they’re not a playful band, there’s no self-deprecation here; they play metal and there’s a strong sense of emotional fatigue or even despair about it. It’s a solid record and among the standard metal riffage there are some great bits of high-end lead, octave chords and delay/sustain guitar effects that, frankly, demonstrate a grasp of dynamics that still seems to be beyond a lot of metal bands.

(Metal fans may at this point respond by pointing out that a lot of the bands I love have yet to move beyond the power chord. And also I openly adore octave chords, which are one note removed from power chords. I know. Music reviewing is subjective. That’s why it’s fun.)

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Question 1: Do you like these lyrics from Ohio’s Tin Armor?

We’re living a life of abundance
the squalor of rentals aside
We cherish our things and live beyond our means
to the tune of our paychecks demise

We’re living a life of reluctance
the impulse under the influence aside
We hold on to our peace and we stay in our seats
and we haunt each other’s halls all night

Well they say one in hand is better than two beside
and most times it’s hard not to agree
But of my actions left aside
it’s just not alright that there are so many

Question 2: Does your collection of music include some of the following?

Cory Branan, Ben Folds, Drag the River, Drive By Truckers, The Weakerthans, Okkervil River, Armchair Martian, Wilco, Austin Lucas, Lucero.

If the answer to either or both questions is ‘yes’, the odds are good that you will enjoy Life of Abundance.

I’m well aware that this ‘review’ looks, well, pretty fucking lazy. Rest assured that I’ve been dwelling on this one for a while. My problem is that while I dig this record I’ve got nothing in particular to say about it. That’s a bit of a disappointment. The last time I went to an alt-country gig – bear in mind I live in the UK, too – it was an awesome experience. The night’s players mixed and matched and improvised and articipated; it was a thoroughly organic moment full of personality and uniqueness. Cory Branan bought my friends and I some shots. Austin Lucas wandered around through the audience whilst playing songs and made everything feel approximately 40,000% more special. Another friend made 50% of Drag the River play my favourite songs before I arrived at the show. A historical song that made me think and feel in a more powerful way than I recalled from recent memory. It was an event.

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Apparently Philly bands are a thing right now on NFI. There’s no intentional pattern to it, folks, I’m just writing about what I’ve been sent. Still, recently we’ve had reviews of Empire! Empire! and Hightide Hotel, and to the output of that state we can add Luther.

They’re band with not much of a story. This isn’t too their detriment; I’ve just not been able to dig up much info online. One thing that I have been able to find, from one of the two labels which published this record, is the phrase “a natural nervousness”. Kind of an odd phrase, huh? It’s in reference to the music, sure, but slinging a phrase like “natural nervousness” into the mix when you’re writing about a band is suggestive in itself. It suggests that Luther are a band who prefer to let the music take centre stage, to keep the players in the background while what they create speaks for itself.

What it speaks of is a band who are, well, a really pleasant listen. There’s a decent amount of variance here, between songs that strike a relaxed balance between minimalism and midpace as in ‘Siblings’ – vocally focused, highlighting the emotional quality of the vocals, the gentle dexterity of a few simple guitar picks and those subtle ambient touches that flesh out such a song – and more driving numbers such as ‘There’s Always Money’, a track that reminds me unexpectedly of Cattle Drums in that, frankly, the octave chords in the verses are to fucking die for.

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Last week I wrote a little about how bewildered I was to be sent a number of Christian metal albums to review. I suppose I could have simply chosen to not review them, but I’m game for a challenge.

Some challenges, however, are simply too great. And here we are with The Gospel, by Creations. The band hail from Sydney in Australia and their Facebook page includes this as their mission statement:

Creations embody the gloomy day when humanity murdered Christ; when creator laid His life down for creation, paying the ultimate price for our salvation. The picture is vulgar and the message is offensive; repent and believe the Gospel. We will stop at nothing to “…make disciples of all nations”.

Er, strong words indeed. Normally I’m inclined to express admiration when a band firmly and passionately believes in something, but I’m normally talking about a D.I.Y. approach to music or a dedicated tour schedule rather than a call to unify everyone in the world under one religious creed. That shit is just creepy. I noted in last week’s review that even if I didn’t like their music, Sovereign Strength seemed to be open to a diverse and varied set of philosophies and beliefs within a scene. I really don’t get that from Creations.

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The impressively-named Empire! Empire! (I Was a Lonely Estate) have only been reviewed in the briefest of forms here on NFI: they contributed a single song toward a split with Into It. Over It. It wasn’t much to base an opinion on a band around but it was a gentle and melancholic piece of music that I enjoyed well enough.

Home After Three Months Away is a four-track EP from the band, with all four tracks around the two or three minute mark. Opening with ‘The Loneliness Inside Me Is A Place’ – a cringe-worthy title, if I’m on honest – things get off to a bad start; whilst the guitar noodling is quite inventive and playful the chord progressions don’t have much going for them. The song also builds steadily over its length but the effect of this is mitigated by the band’s determination to remain so very mellow.

Fortunately things feel more active when we come to ‘Water’, a comparatively energetic tune thanks to plenty of crashing and trembling cymbals, more charming guitar noodling and some clean palm-mutes in the verses. » Read the rest of this entry «