guitar

Elevator Art

alicia — Thu, 27 Jan 2011 20:00:00 +0000

For a band working without the backing of a label, Elevator Art has crafted a disc that has the sound of a group with a fountain of money at their disposal. Sure, money isn’t everything, but I can tell you from personal experience that it makes a huge difference when you are in a small band with nothing but sad, starving little moths in your pockets and a record that needs mastering, artwork, and printing.

Elevator Art obviously put a lot of work and a considerable amount of hard-earned bread into this recording—and every dollar and hour spent recording, mixing, and mastering has clearly been worth the effort. Really, if they are able to turn a profit, why even bother with label backing? They clearly have the artistic side of the industry figured out.

Elevator Art mixes and mashes various genres into a stew of epic proportions—a generous helping of ‘70s arena guitar-driven rock, a smattering of ‘60s anti-war psychedelia, a pinch of Mars Volta, and a dab of Weezer and the Beatles, and you essentially have their self-titled debut album. Heck, there is even a Jethro Tull-esque flute solo.

The album opens with an uptempo mixture of crunchy guitar rock and wacky lyrics (something about a pregnant baby, a dog on stilts, and a unicorn that died) and is propelled by Yes-inspired tracks like “Punch and Judy.” They also throw in some country influences on “Autumn Epitaph” and channel Pink Floyd on “How Does the Day Find You” which sounds like it could have been a track on Meddle.

I do have a small bone to pick with the drums and bass. There are moments that the drums sound like electric drums (most obviously in a section close to the end of “Matryoshka” and also on “Peter Rabbit”). I’m not sure if it was intentional, but I would have preferred a more natural sound throughout. Also, Mike Jonin is a great bass player, but I wish his sound was a bit fuller—his bass gets a bit lost with so much mid-range and so little bottom end.

These are really very small criticisms, as most of the sound on the album is superb. The guitar, in particular, is clear and precise on every track, reminding me a bit of the crispness of tracks like “Young Pilgrims” by The Shins. Overall, this is a worthy recording by a band that is clearly dedicated to their craft.

Written by: Emily S. Dunster, January 27th 2011

Electric Green

alicia — Tue, 09 Nov 2010 16:00:00 +0000

By Vita Tanga, Cady Finlayson

Fiddler Cady Finlayson and guitarist Vita Tanga bring two disparate locations (Brooklyn and Paris) and musical styles (traditional Celtic music and world music/electronica) together on Electric Green, a ten-song collection of mostly traditional Irish songs, with a distinctive modern twist. In most cases the violin carries the melody while the guitar, acoustic or electric, adds depth and texture. On the best numbers Tanga’s guitar seems to urge on Finlayson’s violin with a contrapuntal effect.

The electric version of “Itchy Fingers” has a funky guitar groove and vibrant fiddle. It’s a lively tune, but abruptly slows down at the end, switching from a fast twirling jig to a slow, courtly waltz. “March Set” is a moderately-paced dance, with fast bowing from Finlayson on the break and muted percussive sounds from the guitar. “Bordeaux Set” has a different feel than most other numbers; it’s slower and more reflective, with a plucked guitar that simulates chimes. The guitar anchors the high-flying fiddle part on “Heavy Metal,” which starts off fast and then takes it up a notch.

“Bass Rock” has very gentle guitar and a moderately-paced violin part. The notes are held longer, lending it a more somber tone. It is among the most lyrical tracks, a love poem of sorts, with the soft chiming of the guitar evoking images of a small waterfall or brook. “All Set for St. Pat’s”—a medley of two traditional Irish songs, “Wearing of the Green” and “Sean South,” and the original piece “Pumpkin’s Fancy”—features bagpipes and snare and is a fitting ending for the album.

While the music on Electric Green is certainly enjoyable, the lack of varied instrumentation makes the songs less distinguishable from each other; the inclusion of the Irish whistle or more bagpipes and percussion would have done a lot to vary the music. Still, while the electric component may be hard for hard-core Celtic music fans to swallow, it adds an interesting dimension to a genre with a long history.

Written by: Karen Duda, November 9th 2010

Marnie Stern

brittany — Tue, 05 Oct 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Marnie Stern

Kill Rock Stars

The buzzword on Marnie Stern's self-titled third album seems to be "introspective." Frankly, this descriptor hardly seems indicative of a sea change if we've been paying attention to her lyrics.

Sure, In Advance of the Broken Arm and her breakthrough sophomore effort, This Is It And I Am It and You Are It and So Is That and He Is It and She Is It and It Is It and That Is That, pack a mean sonic wallop. But her second album could have been retitled The Tao of Marnie. It was especially festooned with at-times profound statements and affirmations about the creative process and the human condition. Just because she pitched her nasal voice in a giddy upper register and her fingers were flying across the frets of her electric guitar didn't mean she wasn't doing some soul searching. Even if she didn't announce what the songs were about didn't mean she wasn't in them.

What I think the main difference is between her prior work and the new album is less reliance on creating a sense of immediacy. Previously, her music foregrounded indelible guitar riffs played loud and often executed with superhuman speed. The sound here is more meditative, with less emphasis placed on hooks instead of hypnotic passages that build as they repeat or are broken up by unexpected melody lines. The lyrics, though still introspective, are more clearly applicable to Stern's personal experiences. Much of this is attributed to the opening track. "For Ash" is a song dedicated to an ex-boyfriend who committed suicide and the process of writing it helped Stern out of a creative dead end.

This sense of loss, remembrance, and reflection informs much of the album's content, shifting Stern's ability to channel musical catharsis through her guitar playing. This is evident on songs like "Transparency is the New Mystery," "Risky Biz," "Gimme," "Cinco de Mayo," and especially the haunting closer "The Things You Notice." While Stern and drummer Zach Hill's playing is no less muscular, it possesses the control to vary tempo or decelerate while maintaining buoyancy and ramping up suspense.

But Stern's characteristic playfulness and prowess over a face-melting riff equally defines the album which bears her name. Songs like "Nothing Left," "Building a Body," "Her Confidence," and the pointedly titled "Female Guitar Players are the New Black" could easily slide in to the tracklists of her earlier releases.

However, that they weave seamlessly into this album suggests Stern's steady artistic progression. It also suggests that inward thought can yield some mighty external results. This album may not capture your full attention on first listen, but I'm confident it contains enough interesting ideas to invite many returns. As Stern continues to hone in and balance introspection with formidable instrumental performance, we may get the pleasure of discovering that they aren't disparate concepts. Here, they seem to be in service of one another.

Written by: Alyx Vesey, October 5th 2010

Paperdoll

admin — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Elyse Miller

Blink and you might miss one of the twelve short, sparsely instrumented songs on Elyse Miller’s new disc, as most last two minutes or less. But Miller packs a lot of punch into these brief, slow-paced numbers, usually accompanied only by acoustic guitar. It’s a fair bet that several songs will get stuck in your head after just one listen.

Miller’s sweet, drawn-out vocal on the lullaby-like “New Love,” captures the obsessive need to spend every moment with a new crush and the intense physical lust that accompanies it: “can’t keep the bedclothes up/can’t keep your clothes on.” The simple, lilting “I Want to Love You” is so pure musically that you may miss its mischievous tone at first: “I want to love you on a hilltop meadow/it may be breaking the law/but baby it’s dark/no one has to know.” The potentially creepy lyrics are rendered playful through Miller’s plaintive delivery.

Guitar and vocal are more strident on “What We Teach,” in which Miller bemoans children’s desensitization to violence. The disturbing “Kinderwhore,” which sounds like a schoolyard chant sung by a pedophile, is essentially a long, leering description of a young girl, from her pig tails and nail polish to her bubble gum. The sense of menace implied is unsettling. The lyrics are all the more jarring for Miller’s singsong delivery. Miller shows the most emotion on “Paperdoll,” detailing the lengths women go to in order to fit into the dominant cult of beauty. She decries the constant societal pressure and “the driving mania/to be as thin and as smooth/and as shallow as paper.” It’s a valid but depressing song, as it ends with the narrator being torn in two.

Miller has a way with both words and music, and her interest in social issues and playful sense of humor shine through on Paperdoll.

Written by: Karen Duda, August 27th 2010

Black Pearl Sings! (6/18/2010)

admin — Fri, 25 Jun 2010 00:00:00 +0000

The Adrienne Theater

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

With their current production, Black Pearl Sings!, InterAct Theatre brings a powerful story to the Mainstage of Philadelphia’s Adrienne. The intimate performance space, where third row is a mere six feet from the floor-level stage, helps one feel immersed in the story.

Written by Frank Higgins and directed by Seth Rozin, the two-act play stars C. Kelly Wright as Alberta “Pearl” Johnson and Catharine K. Slusar as Susannah Mullally. In the story, set during the Great Depression, song collector Mullally meets Johnson while visiting a Texas prison. Mullally hopes to find an old song that has never been documented, a song that might land her a university teaching job. She helps to obtain parole for Johnson, with the condition that Johnson will be in Mullally’s custody. After parole, the women go to New York, where they present a performance meant to make both of them famous. The play ends with a powerfully triumphant Johnson in control of her own future, and Mullally humbled and grown through this relationship.

The play is based upon the true story of musicologist John Lomax, who collected songs for the Library of Congress during the 1930s. In a Louisiana penitentiary, Lomax met guitar player Huddie Ledbetter, later known as Lead Belly.

During the course of the play, Mullally reveals that her wealthy family has disowned her for pursuing a nontraditional path (“Why would I want to get married?”), and that a man used her research to advance his career. I sat shaking my head in disbelief, thinking to myself, “So now you are going to use a woman to advance your career? At one point she asks, “We’re friends, aren’t we?” to which Johnson replies, “We’re friendly.” For how can there be true friendship when one party’s freedom is dependent on another’s exploitation?

There were many moments when I found myself embarrassed for Mullally, as well as the ignorance of the community in which she moved, which viewed Johnson as a discovery or exhibit. In Act II, Mullally reads a review in which Johnson is referred to by the writer as “Black Pearl.” Johnson responds indignantly, “How come you ain’t White Susannah?” Mullally was schooled through her relationship with Johnson, and at many times humor eased the way.

For me, the greatest beauty of this show lay in the voice of C. Kelly Wright as she sang a cappella spirituals and folk songs, and her visceral expression of emotions throughout the performance. Her rich voice brought tears to my eyes multiple times, and manifested great power and strength. I felt her voice not only in my ears but in my bones.

Written by: Lisa Rand, June 24th 2010

Don't Kiss Her Face

admin — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 00:59:00 +0000

By The Echelons

Bud Martin Productions

The Echelons have a lot going for them: quirky lyrics, a 1970s-inspired family ensemble, and fun tunes. Made up of father Ben Petrella, children Jessica and Louis, and neighbors Brian Santo and Brandon Grande, the Echelons make their debut with Don't Kiss Her Face.

Jessica is nineteen years old, and brother Louis is only twelve; this multi-generational dynamic gives the band a distinct aesthetic. At times, the band creates a light, west coast sound while the driving rhythms and prominent guitar conjure hints of punk rock.

My favorite song on the album is the title track. Its musical cohesion and witty lyrics tell the story of a high school girl who is too obsessed with her appearance. The band warns possible suitors that “she ain’t got a face until she puts it on in the morning.” Jessica leads the vocals on this piece, unraveling a yarn about a girl that all the boys can’t help gawking at, but who is, inevitably, artificial. I found this song to be a refreshing look at young women and self-image.

While the vocals on some tracks on Don't Kiss Her Face are a little rough around the edges, I am impressed overall with the musicality of the album. Jessica’s voice is clear and wonderfully folksy; I was left wishing she had been featured on more of the tracks. Brandon’s solid drumming and Ben’s strong guitar rifts kept the fledgling group grounded. This group’s funky lyrics and family-style band make them a stand-out in modern rock.

Written by: Cristin Colvin, February 21st 2010

Darling Dear

admin — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 09:00:00 +0000

By Little Fish

Motown Records

At one point in the chaos of alley-crawling and narrow escapes that is the “Darling Dear” video, Little Fish frontwoman Juju beats up a guitar-wielding hipster boy, steals his guitar and straps it on before she launches in a furious bout of The Rocking. It is precisely this raw frenetic energy that attracted the attention of Custard Records, the label launched by singer/songwriter/producer Linda Perry (4 Non Blondes). Baffled & Beat, Little Fish's full-length album from Custard produced by Perry, is scheduled for an early 2010 release. In the meantime, we have Darling Dear, a three-song maxi-single guaranteed to rock off the socks of every music fan lucky enough to listen.

Winners of the “Guitar Hero Best Rock Act” at the 2008 UK Indy Music Awards and the subject of fawning adoration from BBC Radio Oxford, Little Fish released Darling Dear in mid-October. In short order the group has gone on to share the stage with the likes of Juliette Lewis and Alice in Chains. They're a rare breed of band—self-aware without being self-important. They know full well that they're making stellar wall-shaking rock n' roll, but they're not pretentious about it.

Self-taught guitarist Juju is a singer/songwriter whose warm raspy voice has been compared to Patti Smith and PJ Harvey. To me, there are also hints of Johnette Napolitano, and yes, even a bit of Linda Perry. Drummer Nez is right there keeping up every step of the way, which is a mighty undertaking, especially given the rapidly escalating rhythm of “Darling Dear.” It starts out slow then builds to a glorious pulsating frenzy. Here, Juju's voice struts and swaggers like one of a seasoned rock star; she looses pitch perfect screams with a precision that Janis Joplin would envy.

As a second track, “Sweat and Shiver” is cleaner-sounding, almost poppy in comparison to the song that preceded it. Thankfully, though, it's not pristine. Not by a long shot. Harmonies beautify scuzzy febrile lyrics like “My eyes are glazed/I'm pretendin' to sleep” and “Hands and knees/crawlin' on the floor/Cigarette burnin' on a cockroach floor.” Little Fish is following a classic pop/rock music formula with this song—stuffing grimy unpleasant imagery in the sweet swirling center of harmony and repetition.

Of the three tracks, “Whiplash” sounds the most up-to-the-minute British post-punk. At two minutes and fifty-one seconds, it's the shortest of the three tracks, and ends abruptly. It has all the earmarks of a set-ender. It's the short upbeat track you hope will be played at the close of a brilliant show. It's a song that gets a crowd dancing before BAM! Throw down a guitar grown heavy on exhausted shoulders, fling away drumsticks and walk off panting backstage for a pull from a bottled beer before stumbling back out for an encore.

And believe you me, after everything Little Fish puts in their music, you'll be screaming yourself hoarse for an encore.

Written by: M. Brianna Stallings, February 3rd 2010

Sugarland

admin — Sun, 10 Jan 2010 09:00:00 +0000

By Talk Normal

Rare Book Room Records

While growing up reading Spin and Rolling Stone, I quickly realized that both publications are fond of describing the sound of new bands by referencing older bands, many of which my twelve-year-old self hadn’t heard. I used to hate it, but now I realize it’s a pretty effective if lazy way of doing things. This is why I can say that Talk Normal would be the resulting lovechild if Sonic Youth and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs had really sweaty, kinky, drug-fueled sex, which is to say it’d be a very frightening, emotional lovechild, fond of howling, screaming, and talking nonsensically into a microphone over sonic noise.

It seems that Rare Book Room Records has made it their goal to sign the creepiest, noisiest, and most difficult to characterize bands to come out of Brooklyn. These bands, much like Talk Normal, make records that you’d be afraid to listen to by yourself, as they may bring on a nasty drug flashback or elicit some pretty strange daydreams.

To be honest, I don’t even know if I liked Talk Normal’s Sugarland. I can’t ever picture myself saying, “Hey, let’s throw on that incredibly moody, emotional, energy-draining album that scares the shit out of me.” Which is not to say it’s bad; it’s just too different. When I want to be sad, I throw on something sad. When I want to be happy, I throw on something happy. Sadly, a mood has yet to be discovered that would result in me throwing on Talk Normal’s record. Maybe with a little more time spent practicing together and a little less distortion and howling, Talk Normal’s next record can illicit some more human emotion—as opposed to pure animal savagery.

Written by: Tina Vasquez, January 10th 2010

The Drifter

admin — Fri, 28 Aug 2009 16:53:00 +0000

By Lindi Ortega

Cherry Tree Records

The wanderlust, the whisky, the love-done-me-wrong– Mexican-Canadian musician Lindi Ortega sings it all out on The Drifter EP, and even if you're not a fan of indie country folksiness, her voice calls to you. The singer's voice lulls and disarms with a sweetness that could be borderline saccharine. Nonetheless, she is saved by her expansive ability to belt out a tune. If you heard her singing in a bar, you'd probably be forced to put down your beer.

Ortega's EP has only four songs, so before you know it, the album is over. But the brevity could be a metaphor for the love affairs in some of her lyrics: Here today, sing about it tomorrow.

"Dying of Another Broken Heart" is a deadpan perspective on breakups: "I should hold a funeral for every love I’ve lost." Ortega's guitar and keyboards play out the rhythm of a pop-folk lullaby in contrast to the cynical humor. Except for an interlude of bells where the lullaby takes over, this mix of sweetness and cynicism works well.

"All My Friends" transposes Ortega's wit onto an allegory for alcohol and drug addiction. She sings about "Jack" and "Mary Jane", the "friends" who will kill her dead. Despite this heavy-handedness, Ortega plays the expert staccato chords of a protest song, complete with Jewel-like vocals.

"Black Fly" and "Drifter" provide a different kind of protest: the refusal to end relationships without "one last taste." "Black Fly" is the most orchestrated composition on the album, with drums added to guitar and vocals. A song with pop-country verve and Hollywood bravado, it could be a lost track from Thelma & Louise. But "Drifter" lowers the guitar and keyboard to bossa nova volume, creating a music box melody. Pristine and unadorned, Ortega's voice stays in a muted key. This is the album's most experimental work, and it shows her indie side.

Still, both songs are ballads for co-dependency: "Sometimes lies are sweet like honey/ When you tell me/ that you love me so/ I drink it up you know." "Drifter" is an extended voice-mail message for an elusive lover: "I wonder what you’re running from/ Yes, I wonder if I could be the one/ to make you stay." (Step One for co-dependents: Do not leave songs as voice-mail messages.) But Ortega can sing with a boldness that needs no serenity prayers. Why not evince the same boldness with her lyrics?

Mainstream and indie, sweet and cynical, co-dependent and standing on her own, Lindi Ortega experiments with many musical personas, and, despite a few missteps, The Drifter offers the work of an eclectic artist worth exploring.

Written by: Andrea Dulanto, August 28th 2009

Quiet Little Voices single

admin — Thu, 20 Aug 2009 23:29:00 +0000

By We Were Promised Jetpacks

Fat Cat Records

Hyped-up Scottish indie rockers We Were Promised Jetpacks have been around since 2003, but are only now releasing their debut album, These Four Walls (out June 15 in the UK and July 9 in the U.S.). They opened for fellow Scots Frightened Rabbit in 2008, and that connection led them to their deal with Fat Cat Records.

The single “Quiet Little Voices” opens with a restless guitar line that is soon joined by a pulsing bass line, frenetic cymbals, and Adam Thompson’s powerful, lightly accented vocals (his brogue is much stronger on some of the band’s other material). Despite being over four minutes long, the song doesn’t have much substance; if you know the title, you know the majority of the lyrics, as each line of the first (and only) verse starts with those three words, and the refrain consists of the same words backed by a rousing chorus of whoa-oh’s. When it sounds like the second verse should come in, a brief return to the intro instead leads into a second round of the chorus, and then a third. It’s lazy songwriting that manages to get by on charm and stadium-ready glory; it’s not hard to imagine a room full of people grabbing their friends and singing along with fervor, even though the lyrics are so repetitive and don’t really mean anything.

With its memorable hook and anthemic quality, it’s easy to understand why “Quiet Little Voices” was chosen as a single. However, it’s not nearly as strong as the other tracks from These Four Walls that were made available online in advance of the album’s release, which are less formulaic and boast copious amounts of Scottish charm.

Written by: Kiri Oliver, August 20th 2009

Nests Of Waves And Wire

admin — Mon, 03 Aug 2009 23:17:00 +0000

By Tartufi

Southern Records

In case you were wondering, tartufi name means truffle in Italian. According to this San Francisco duo, it's a moniker left behind by a former member, rather than one either would have willfully applied. They just sorta stumbled into it. Luckily, it's a name that fit them well enough to keep. Since the term can refer to either a rare, edible fungi or a confection (in Italy it's an elaborate dessert involving ice cream), and since the band has a similarly dirty-hidden-underground-but-still-tantalizingly-sweet-treasure feeling, Tartufi makes sense, and so does the title of their latest album, Nests Of Waves And Wire, as the experimental duo's music resembles an knotty interwoven bundle.

When it comes to Tartufi, the one point most music journalists revisit time and again is their ability to produce an orchestrated mass of music that seems like it should be coming from a whole tribe of people, instead of just two. Both Lynne Angel and band mate Brian Gorman are multi-instrumentalists. Vocal duties fall square in the lap of Lynne Angel (whose voice sounds an awful lot like that of indie music luminary Kim Deal), and in addition to singing, Angel plays the guitar and percussion. Gorman is on drums, glockenspiel, and megaphone, while both play bass and keyboards. Before I continue, please know that I have weighed and measured my words carefully throughout this review. In this next instance, however, there really is no other way to convey my meaning: the tune “Dot Dash” doesn't fuck around. It is a song that, with its stops and starts, sustained by a short-long undercurrent, honestly adheres to its name—and does so with great joy. The opening track, “Fear of Tall Giraffes, Fear Of Some Birds,” exemplifies their primal harmonious qualities; think Polyphonic Spree meets Erase Errata. At times their symphonic whorl can be a bit dizzying, but it makes listening to Tartufi that much more grand.

Discerning listeners will pick up on the diversity of influences from which Tartufi has built their sound. Some are apparent (Explosions In The Sky, Animal Collective) while others could easily go unnoticed, even after several listens (Fairport Convention, Wu Tang Clan, and Metallica). That last one was especially jarring, yet a lone electric guitar noodling its way through the halfway mark of “Engineering” does indeed hearken back to Black Album-era, sounding remarkably similar to the opening notes of “Nothing Else Matters.”

Not content to work hard for their benefit alone, Tartufi also generously devote as much time as possible to support other bands from their community. Thread Productions is a collective started in 2006 by Angel and Gorman in conjunction with fellow Bay Area bands. Theirs is a simple credo: help each other. Share resources, go to each other's shows, and talk up Thread Productions and its constituents to the media. The instinct to deviate from the often vicious pissing contests perpetuated in emerging music scenes is refreshing—and apparently quite effective, as all bands involved have seen an increase in interest, CD sales, and audience attendance at live performances.

Written by: M. Brianna Stallings, August 3rd 2009

Fuckbook

admin — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 22:52:00 +0000

By Condo Fucks

Matador

Nineties alt-rock favorites Yo La Tengo have released a new album of cover songs under the moniker of Condo Fucks. Presumably taking its title from their 1990 album Fakebook, this eleven-song effort has been christened Fuckbook. A refreshing slice of lo-fi garage/grunge, these covers are the raw and dirty antithesis to today's pro-tooled mania.

Their cover of the Small Faces' “What'cha Gonna Do About It” kicks off the album and firmly establishes the stripped-down approach with its feedback and fuzzy guitars. “Accident” continues the noisy, in-your-face vibe and makes me feel like I should be at a party drinking beer. “This Is Where I Belong” is a little more mellow, but just as loud.

This is followed by two covers of Beach Boys classics: “Shut Down” and “Shut Down Part 2”. The rough punk approach works pretty well for re-interpreting surf music, and I especially enjoyed their spin on the instrumental “Part 2”, which is easily my favorite cut on the record. I also quite liked “The Kid With The Replaceable Head”, which I thought really nailed the perfect combo of in-your-face distortion.

Sixties and early seventies music dominates the setlist here, continuing with covers of the Troggs (“With a Girl Like You”) and Slade (“Gudbuy T'Jane”). The inspiration of these classics is evident in the way the Condo Fucks embrace such a raw method of recording—it sounds like the band were actually in the same room playing at the same time when they made this album! Imagine that! I just love hearing this kind of primal rock that hasn't been polished or prettied up. I know not everyone will share my enthusiasm; Fuckbook will probably be unlistenable to a lot of people. But I think that's the whole point.

Written by: Beeb Ashcroft, July 24th 2009

Trio B.C.

admin — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 23:13:00 +0000

By Girl In A Coma

Blackheart Records

Four years ago, I stumbled onto Girl in a Coma—a strict accident, finding them in the first place—but after that discovery, keeping up with GIAC has become a habit, it has become compulsory, and a pleasure—as if their success has suddenly been tied to my own. Two years ago, after the release of Both Before I'm Gone, I caught up with them at the old Club 101 in El Paso, on one of their relentless tours. Nina Diaz was shy, barely uttering one word during the whole interview; Phanie D. and Jenn did most of the talking. But on stage, Nina flew into a rage, a presence so undeniable that the pathetic crowd of twenty scene kids in El Paso danced and moshed. I caught their show at Mohawk’s in Austin this past March, and this time, the huge bar was packed. Nina D. still goes wild on stage, but pulls back off it.

Phanie, Jenn, and Nina tour relentlessly, religiously—and they love their fans. They are the old school kind of homegrown band—tour, rock out, obtain fans through word of mouth. One person they impressed was rock legend Joan Jett, who signed them to her Blackheart Label, and now, this summer, out comes their second full length LP, Trio B.C., which is a reference to their grandfather’s Tejano band from the ‘50s.

Trio B.C. is a huge leap forward for the band, showing off polish, maturity, and measure. As their shows grow in crowd size, as Nina opens up, possessed on stage, as Jenn and Phanie blow out your ear drums, as their popularity swarms, Girl in a Coma is still the punk rock band from San Antonio that will break your face, while Nina D.’s voice will break your heart.

Su voz te captura, te enreda en su dedo y luego te lanza por la puerta. Loosely translated, Nina’s voice captures you, wraps you around her finger, and then shoves you out the door. Trio B.C. is an album that didn’t have seven years of preparation like their first one. Their sophomore effort is a studio album, a different product altogether, and benefits from the maturity of GIAC. And Nina...she makes you swoon. She makes me swoon anyway. Actually, any of the three make me swoon. But if Nina’s voice separates the sound of the band from all other female lead bands, Phanie’s drums and Jenn’s bass pull everything together. They stick together, fight for each other (depending on what you have read about their scrape in a Houston bar), and they rock juntos. Girl in a Coma is ready to blow up—in popularity that is.

“Joannie in the City” is the most likely to be a mainstream hit—complete with Joan Jett’s guitar and snarl on the track. They even cover “Ven Cerca,” a song originally performed by Los Spitfires—a first Spanish language song for the trio. But the rest of the LP is strong, benefiting from the girls’ individuality. Both LPs—Both Before I'm Gone and Trio B.C.—are two tattoos on your forearm—painful, pleasurable, and memorable. Trust me, the ink, the money, and the ticket for these three ladies, is definitely worth it.

Written by: Mónica Teresa Ortiz, June 21st 2009

Ascension

admin — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 00:12:00 +0000

By Phoenix Rising

Copus Music

One tell-tale sign of good music is that it has the ability to transport you somewhere physically, mentally or spiritually. Ascension by Phoenix Rising aims for and succeeds at the latter. It’s an album that is peaceful, serene, and uplifting.

According to the album’s liner notes, the seven songs on Ascension are organized around the seven chakras. For those who are not familiar with this concept of energy centers in our bodies, understanding chakras is not essential to enjoying the music. The duo behind Phoenix Rising, Wendy Loomis and Monica Williams, only want the listener to take away that these songs allude to the idea of our own energy’s ability to ascend to a spiritual plane.

Beginning with track one, named “Seed,” through the final track, “Ascension,” the music takes the listener on a journey. It has a wonderful quality of not becoming just background music but of creating a sonic space that is conducive to meditation, yoga and deep relaxation. In other words, the music is similar to a vessel that each individual can steer to any internal place.

Intertwining melodies from piano played by Loomis and flute played by Williams create the backbone of every song. Guest musicians on each track give the album an international sound with a variety of instruments, including Swiss hanging drums, Spanish and Middle Eastern-style guitar and even Bolivian goat hoof shakers. All tracks are instrumental with the exception of “Unspoken,” which features Irina Mikhailova, whose voice lends a wistful and reverent quality to the song.

In explaining the inspiration for the album, Loomis and Williams wrote in the liner notes that they wanted to “create a CD that had the power to help people relax, de-stress and energize with positive vibrations of gratitude for this life.” There is no doubt that both women are accomplished musicians and have created a beautiful album. The music is at times uplifting, but the album at times teeters toward mournfulness and uncertainty. Perhaps that’s just an inherent aspect of a phoenix, however. Before rising, one must go through darkness. As Ascension shows, there’s brilliant sounds waiting for us on the other side.

Written by: Beverly Jenkins-Crockett, June 19th 2009

Chup

admin — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 17:06:00 +0000

By Zeb and Haniya

Chup is Zeb and Haniya's (pronounced "Zay-eb and Haa-nee-ya) debut album, which was released in July of 2008. The female-cousin duo has been marked as one of the first all-female bands from Pakistan. Ranging from alternative pop, art pashto and folk, ethnic blues, and world music, their music cannot be confined to just one category. Some of their influences include Suzanne Vega, Nick Drake, Elliott Smith, Simon and Garfunkel, Mark Knopfler, and Muddy Waters. At times, I can definitely hear glimpses of all their influences in their music. Zeb and Haniya have a surprisingly natural sound to them, which is refreshing.

In 2000, while attending college in the United States, Zeb and Haniya started playing together. They basically began experimenting with music as a hobby, but with a great response from the college community, decided to start recording. Zeb has been training as a vocalist since 1998 with the acclaimed Ustad Mubarak Ali Khan. Her first cousin Haniya is a guitarist, vocalist, and songwriter.

The self-track titled song "Chup" proves that contemporary Pakistani music is not just a man's domain. As one of the most popular songs downloaded on the internet, and having gotten generous airplay, “Chup” is one of Zeb and Haniya’s most well-known songs. It was written and composed during a break when they were in college. The song begins with a catchy guitar riff and a bossanova-sounding drum beat. Horns play throughout, and it's hard not to tap your foot or even start dancing while this song is playing.

Between Zeb's classical-sounding vocals and Zaniya's beautiful guitar arrangements, this Pakistani duo creates beautiful and highly emotive sounds.

Written by: MK Matson, June 15th 2009