Saviours: Into Abaddon CD review (Orlando Weekly)

Into Abaddon picks up where Metallica left off – in 1985. That’s not to say this Oakland quartet is strictly emulating Hetfield & Co. Still, the unabashedly retro stylings on Saviours’ second album evoke the feeling of listening to some ratty Music for Nations cassette.

Saviours is a band intent on reminding metal fans what they truly love about the genre: heaviness, syncopated guitar, a pounding rhythm line that allows headbanging for more than a measure and a half and enough dirty, rocking power to slaughter thine enemy; Saviours deliver on all of these elements relentlessly. Clocking in at just over 39 minutes, Into Abaddon is defiantly unfussy. While dueling guitar lines (a la Iron Maiden), modular structures (see: Metallica) and roiling riffage (hello, Motörhead) are all employed, the band never gets the idea that a 19-minute low-frequency meditation on doom/death/the universe is part of their mission.

These guys play metal exactly the way a Bay Area metal band should: powerfully and passionately. Pulling together the leftover pile of New Wave of British Heavy Metal influence that Metallica so carelessly left lying on their therapist’s couch, Saviours draws a direct line to the likes of Blitzkrieg, Iron Maiden, Raven and Diamond Head, mildly updated for 21st-century tastes. Vocalist Austin Barber’s gravelly howl of a voice is reminiscent of recent metal vocalists (with a touch of Lemmy Kilmister/Scott “Wino” Weinrich thrown in), as he largely dispenses with melodic structure when puking out his lyrics. Other than that, it would be easy to pass off Into Abaddon as a lost classic of the 1985 San Francisco NWOBHM revival scene. (For proof, check out the Raven-quoting-then-Metallica-quoting “Mystichasm.” For chrissakes, the song has a church bell in it.)

The production work by Joe Barresi – who’s been behind the boards for some of the sludgiest contemporary metal albums of the past decade – exponentially magnifies the effect. Though of much higher fidelity, Barresi’s work here sounds like a Flemming Rasmussen production, if Rasmussen had none of that Scandinavian tendency for crystalline cleanliness.

While one never wants to applaud a modern band for looking backward, as all fans of true metal know, there’s a lot of unfinished business from the Golden Age. Here’s to a band willing to take on the challenge.

First appeared in the Jan. 31, 2008 issue of Orlando Weekly.

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High on Fire feature (Orlando Weekly)

MAN ON FIRE
Plunging metal depths can mean unexpected shopping

Matt Pike – guitarist, vocalist and founder of Bay Area metal heavyweights High on Fire – is attempting to navigate his vehicle toward a guitar shop in order to pick up some freshly repaired gear. “All of ’em blew up all at once,” he says of his tour-damaged amplifiers. “We have to do this between every tour; all the guitars and amps take a pretty severe beating when we go out on the road.”

Anyone familiar with Pike’s history shouldn’t be surprised. Since lumbering onto the metal scene in the early 1990s with Sleep (a band that evolved from Pike’s earlier involvement in the crust-metal band Asbestosdeath), Pike has been one of metal’s foremost practitioners of regressive progression, using his tools to craft a modern take on rock’s most punishing tendencies. Whether the sludgy psychedelic gloom of Sleep, the riff-laden death metal of Kalas or the doomy, Motörhead-meets-Melvins sound of High on Fire, Pike’s music has consistently pushed the boundaries of the genre – and his gear.

“I’m kind of a guitar nerd, I guess,” he laughs. “The gear I use is all pretty much quality – Laney amps, Soldano amps – but the stuff I don’t need, I’ll sell.”

Unwilling to venture down the more angst-ridden path many metal bands were trotting in the ’90s, Pike’s work in Sleep – roughly 1991 to the band’s demise in 1997 – became known for long, turgid, deeply psychedelic numbers that were crushingly heavy, including the 63-minute song, “Dopesmoker,” that got them dropped by their label. It was not metal for the masses, but it did define its own genre – stoner metal.

In comparison, it’s fair to call High on Fire more accessible than Sleep. But over the course of four albums – including their most recent release, Death Is This Communion – HOF has remained steadfastly devoted to redefining the more aggressive end of stoner metal, and the band’s approach has gotten simultaneously tighter and sludgier. Pike’s guitar work plumbs further into the deep well of drop-D heaviness without losing sight of the chugging riffs and fluid solos that have enamored him to up-and-coming players who prefer forcefulness over flashiness. And, in a move that’s surprising even by the standards of High on Fire, the choice of producers for Communion was none other than legendary Seattle grunge producer Jack Endino.

“I thought he was going to do something a little different,” says Pike of why he chose to work with Endino. “I didn’t know how he was gonna take to doing a metal band over doing a grungy stoner band, but I feel like it was a good match.”

2007 also saw the release of archival recordings of Pike’s earlier Asbestosdeath work.

“It was something that never came out on CD. Those were all done at Kinko’s,” laughs Pike about the Asbestosdeath 7-inches that now make up Dejection, Unclean. And while Pike may have been able to find the time to get those recordings together, there simply wasn’t enough time for him to continue as vocalist for Kalas.

“I just bit off more than I could chew,” Pike says. “I really enjoyed doing that project, but I just couldn’t match up the touring schedule … and the choice had to be High on Fire.”

First appeared in the Jan. 31, 2008 issue of Orlando Weekly.

Dave Attell: Captain Miserable DVD review (Metrotimes)

Dave Attell thinks he’s pretty funny. The stand-up comedian (and erstwhile host of Insomniac) frequently laughs at his own jokes during the course of this one-hour performance; more tellingly, he frequently berates this Washington, D.C., audience for not laughing at his jokes. While Attell is certainly not a cerebral comic, his comedy does require a bit more attention than the standard observational humor. Maybe that’s why he has to occasionally connect the dots for his crowd. Whether it’s dropping Isaac Newton into a bit on abortion or expanding a Florida-looks-like-a-penis joke into a golden line about the state shooting a “bukkake of choices and ideas” on Cuba, he manages to be both profoundly obscene and obscenely profound. As fans of Insomniac will surely not be surprised to hear, a good portion of his act is built around drinking too much. But even when Attell is riffing on about how “Jagermeister is for children” or discussing all the great things that were invented because of problem-drinking (the Taser, the morning-after pill) as opposed to weed-smoking (the hacky-sack, ultimate Frisbee), he manages to compose his jokes of multiple layers. Thus, when he wonders aloud whether his audience is “tightening up on me” after a particularly toxic rant about pedophilia, they probably are … but not because they’re disgusted. They may have just had a tough time keeping up. Of note: Many of the better — and more offensive bits — can be found in the DVD’s deleted scenes

First appeared in the Jan. 30, 2008 issue of Detroit Metrotimes.

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Bobby “Blue” Bland show preview (Houston Press)

If the blues ever had its version of Frank Sinatra — at least in terms of an almost instinctual appeal to the opposite sex — it would be Bobby “Blue” Bland. He never fussed around much with concept albums or made much of a name for himself as a technically gifted song stylist, but Sinatra never delivered a musical statement as concise, effective and heart- fluttering as Bland’s classic 1961 album Two Steps from the Blues. Containing four of his most legendary songs — “Cry, Cry, Cry,” “I’ll Take Care of You,” “Lead Me On” and the heart-wrenching “I Pity the Fool” — the album was exactly what its title implied: music that was a couple of inches away from the blues tradition’s expectations, by a man who just needs the love of a good woman to keep him from collapsing into emotional crisis. Bland’s resonant, soulful voice has always been a gruff, romantic instrument, as capable of spiritual highs as downtrodden lows, and it was never more effective than on Two Steps. Even in the 40-plus years since that high point, his voice continues to weave a hypnotic spell. Bland may not be an international sex symbol like Tom Jones or be lionized like Sinatra, but he remains a man whose music comforts the lovelorn and the loveworn.

First appeared in the Jan. 31, 2008 issue of Houston Press.

Puscifer: “V” is for Vagina CD review (Harp)

The baritone vocal rumble that kicks off “V” is for Vagina sets a tone that’s something of a surprise coming from Tool-man Maynard James Keenan’s side project Puscifer. “Queen B,” the album’s debut track sounds, if nothing else, like a bit of modern blues. Keenan’s raspy, low-octave rap is backed with a mélange of processed percussion, live drums, spooky harmonies and no melody to speak of beyond the oddly infectious cadence of his voice. It is, in a word, unexpected.

Keenan, however, has long trafficked in defying expectations, and while it may be hard to imagine that there are any ideas that he wouldn’t run by his bandmates, the stunning stylistic divergence he takes with Puscifer is commendable. Spaghetti-Western soundtracks, acoustic twang, psychotically rendered synthetics, dirty distortion, industrial grind and, yes, the blues get filtered through Puscifer’s soiled imagination. As if vying for Mike Patton’s role as rock-star-paying-penance-for-his-audience, Keenan’s middle finger of a record is challenging and chock-full of guests. As a display of Keenan’s warped musical sense, it’s as rewarding as it is disturbing.

Standout tracks:“Indigo Children,” “Queen B”

First appeared in the Jan/Feb 2008 issue of Harp.

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Michael Brook: BellCurve CD review (Harp)

On BellCurve, infinite-guitarist Michael Brook hands over the master tapes of his 2006 RockPaper-Scissors album to ex-Moodswings member James Hood for a substantial reworking. As opposed to many other remix projects, Hood’s work ends up making the originals come together in a more cohesive fashion than the first time around. Beginning with the overarching elegance of “Reintroduction,” Hood takes Brook’s already-ethereal style and gives it a future-friendly shine with subtle programming touches. Despite the electronic elements, it’s not until BellCurve’s second-to-last song (“Even Doges in the Wild”) that any recognizably “trance-y” style emerges. Instead, Hood arranges a near-symphonic array of ambient textures into pieces that put Brook’s Fripp-ian atmospherics into more defined structures with more substantial foundations. By the time the disc closes with an even more gauzy rendition of “What” (featuring Lisa Germano), Brook’s complex work has been transformed into a completely new piece that’s complementary without being redundant.

First appeared in the Jan/Feb 2008 issue of Harp.

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Steve Aoki: Pillowface and His Airplane Chronicles CD review (Harp)

It’s so easy to hate Steve Aoki. Impossibly hip fashion line, impossibly fashionable punk record label, impossibly huge fees for his DJ sets. In fact, it’s almost impossible not to hate Steve Aoki. But anyone who starts his DJ mix-CD with “New Noise” by Refused is utterly undeserving of spite. Aoki’s cunning inclusion of that anarcho-anthem is a clear exposition of his underground bona fides, a bristling reminder that, tight-pants-wearing-fans aside, Aoki is a hyperkinetic music magnet (and magnate) with a sincere desire to fuck shit up. No moment on Pillowface is as transcendently uplifting as “New Noise,” but from the skanky, retro-freestyle groove of Green Velvet’s “Shake & Pop” to a reworking of Justice’s “D.A.N.C.E.” by Mstrkrft that, somehow, increases the giddy, endorphin-rush of the original, Aoki gloriously makes rock and punk purists shudder. But by making guitar-rock fun again, Aoki’s the last man anyone should hate.

First appeared in the Jan/Feb 2008 issue of Harp.

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Pato Banton: Never Give In CD review (Broward-Palm Beach New Times)

The release in 1987 of Pato Banton’s Never Give In was, in retrospect, something of a watershed moment. Though it may not have been immediately recognized as being so, it turns out that Never Give In marked the beginning of the contemporary era of reggae. After the 1981 death of Bob Marley, reggae had been in a holding pattern, with “roots” reggae being the bread and butter of the many groups who had gained popularity in the wake of Marley’s worldwide deification. Too few black artists took a chance by modifying the sound too much, while white (particularly British) artists saw fit to experiment in ways good (English Beat, the Specials) and bad (UB40). Into this atmosphere comes Pato Banton, a black toaster from Birmingham who somehow found a way to split the difference between the accessible white-reggae grooves of the English Beat and UB40 (both of whom, ironically, he had collaborated with) and the nascent digital bubbling of dancehall. (Wayne Smith had just hit with “[Under Me] Sleng Teng” two years before the release of Never Give In.) Banton’s just-gritty-enough style and inarguable ability to craft a catchy pop song made Never Give In appealing, while his use of digital rhythms and streetwise verses (“Don’t Sniff Coke,” “Drive By Shooting”) essentially laid the groundwork for the hundreds of dancehall and contemporary reggae records that followed. Sure, Banton’s shiny-happy-people vibe has grown tiresome over the years, and the thin production values of Never Give In haven’t held up too well (even with this reissue’s “remastering”). But as far as being in the right place at the right time, it must be said that, at least as far as this record is concerned, Pato Banton was ahead of the game.

First appeared in the Jan. 31 issue of Broward-Palm Beach New Times.

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Angels & Airwaves show preview (Broward-Palm Beach New Times)

There’s something rather adorable about Angels & Airwaves. Since former Blink-182 guitarist/vocalist Tim DeLonge debuted A&A, his constant proclamations of his new band’s superlative greatness — “the best music made in decades” — have all but set him up for failure. But he simply does not care. He’s so convinced that “overcooked” equals “quality work” that he continues along, making laughably unoriginal albums concocted of the bits that even the Cure and U2 deemed too melodramatic and bombastic. Hell, the guy’s even going to make a movie… scratch that. He’s already made a movie (Start the Machine, a documentary about the band), and he’s going to make another one (I-Empire, a science-fiction flick based on the “concept” the band is exploring on their same-named new album). This is a man who’s sure of himself, blissfully unaware of his glaring inability to create interesting music, and seemingly unconcerned that people just aren’t all that interested in his band’s new album. ( I-Empire has sold only about 150,000 copies since its November release; the band’s May 2006 debut has sold about ten times that.) While some people may say that self-aggrandizing cluelessness is creepy or obnoxious, haven’t we been told that if we don’t believe in ourselves, nobody else will? Well, not that many people believe in Angels & Airwaves, but that’s not swaying DeLonge’s faith that the band is rescuing music from all that is mediocre. And that’s just adorable.

First appeared in the Jan. 31, 2008 issue of Broward-Palm Beach New Times.

Hot Water Music: Till the Wheels Fall Off CD review and reunion show preview (Orlando Weekly)

Once More With Feeling
Some Fine Outtakes Before the Big Show
By Jason Ferguson

HOT WATER MUSIC
with Samiam, Cutman
7 p.m. Saturday, Jan. 19, 2008
House of Blues, 407-934-2583
$16-$45

Last year, former Hot Water Music and current Draft bassist Jason Black told an interviewer in regards to a HWM reunion: “If we play again, it can’t be half-assed, and the first show sure as shit won’t be in Texas.” Well, the legendary post-hardcore outfit from Gainesville is playing again, and it sure as shit ain’t in Texas. The group has scheduled a series of four reunion shows – the kickoff is in Orlando this week, with one in New Jersey and two in Chicago to follow shortly thereafter, and it’s a safe assumption that the shows aren’t going to be half-assed either.

Announced back in early November, the concerts are only part of the Hot Water Music reunion story. The release next week of Til the Wheels Fall Off, the second odds-and-sods collection from the group, is much more notable, especially for those diehard fans unable to attend the concerts. Although HWM only officially disbanded in mid-2006, Wheels marks the first material issued under the band’s name since 2004’s The New What Next. (Vocalist Chuck Ragan has released a series of 7-inches, a studio album and a live album, while the Draft – the three members of HWM who aren’t Ragan – have released a studio album and two EPs.) Gathering up outtakes and compilation tracks recorded since 2001’s Never Ender collection, Til the Wheels Fall Off may not be anything remotely close to a best-of set, but it does an adequate job at painting a picture of the band’s late-period sound.

Only four of the 25 tracks here are technically unreleased: three outtakes from Next and one from 2001’s A Flight and a Crash. In the light of the burly rock of the Draft and the folksy warmth of Ragan’s solo work, it’s hard to understand why tracks as strong as Flight’s outtakes would have been deemed unworthy of album inclusion. But given the band’s more straightforward approach at the time, these Americana-flavored midtempo rockers may not have appealed to their more punk-rock sensibilities. That same stylistic disconnect doesn’t apply to “So Many Days,” which was left off Next. As warm and heartfelt as it is anthemic, “So Many Days” is textbook Hot Water Music and possibly one of their best songs.

Surprisingly, for a castoffs comp, the rest of the disc holds up as a widely varied but overall solid effort. Hearing the band barrel through covers like Government Issue’s “Jaded Eyes” and the Clash’s “The Clampdown” (a near-perfect distillation of the band’s punk influences) is invigorating but jarring when countered with the spare intricacies of “Moonpies for Misfits” or the acoustic guitars–and-strings take on Alkaline Trio’s “Bleeder.” The tugging emotionality, the driving power and the roots flavor of the album as a whole illustrate why Hot Water Music was a big deal to so many people. Wheels doesn’t spotlight the band at their album-focused best, but it does showcase the wide diversity of influences that serve to make their reunion a noteworthy event.

First appeared in the Jan. 17, 2008 issue of Orlando Weekly.