For over 20 years, William Bennett's infamous Whitehouse have remained on top of the power electronics game. While countless acts worldwide (particularly in Sweden and the U.S.) cannot seem to make the musical step past "Thank Your Lucky Stars," Whitehouse has evolved into a far more sinister entity with superior production quality.
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It is so frustrating to hear this release when I know that Sam Shalabi can make excellent music. Osama is lacking almost everything that typically makes Shalabi's music so good. It's not that the musicians here aren't talented and it's not that the music isn't well played, the problem is the lack of depth and complete disparity between the songs.
Giant Sand frontman Howe Gelb credits this solo project to Howe Home, a somewhat ironic reference to the fact that The Listenerwas largely recorded on a trip to Denmark, an ocean and a continentaway from the southwestern sounds that have defined his work. Despitethe change in cultural climate, and the use of Danish supportingmusicians, Gelb sticks to his formula with middling results. Theinitial attitude of The Listener comes across not so much asrelaxed, but lazy. Like a Thorazine stuffed Leonard Cohen, Gelb spillshis vocals over the music in a lackadaisical, arrhythmic manner. Hefloats above the songs, coming down occasionally to momentarily latchonto the beat before releasing it again. "Jason's List" ventures intoclassic AM Radio territory with a modest horn section that sounds rightout of a Burt Bacharach arrangement. On the first several tracks,smooth jazz bass lines and blue-eyed boss nova rhythms threaten toconjure images of hotel lounge singers and elevator accompaniment. Gelbis strongest when his southwestern roots and inspirations form the meatof his songs. "Torque (Tango de la Tongue)" is a sinuous duet withsinger Henriette Sennenvaldt that evolves around a fantastic Latinrhythm. The vocal interplay between the two is wonderful; their hushed,suggestive tones twist around each other as they dance cheek to cheek.Sennenvaldt's Danish accented English adds a disorienting andunexpectedly exotic touch the track. Her presence is welcome, and seemsto focus Gelb's sleepy delivery. The Latin shuffle continues on theinstrumental "Plango," and while it is nearly as entertaining as theprevious track, it really does not add anything to the formula. "LyingThere" is a cute song that shows a pinch of vitality after the album'shalf awake opening. "You can bungle up your own birthday party / byshowing up one year late / you can foul up playing in traffic / just bytrying to concentrate." It's a sunny track that wins you over with abright acoustic melody. "B 4 U (Do Do Do)" invigorates the album with acountry-fried, searing electric guitar while copping the vocal melodyto "Lean on Me." Everything works on this track, with Gelb soundingbuoyant and the accompaniment as bouncy as hell, like a bar band ontheir third round of drinks. "Blood Orange" sees Gelb once againtrading vocals with a woman, this time Marie Frank. Together they tella sweet, endearing love story that's pleasant enough. The second halfof 'The Listener' vastly outshines the first, landing on the oppositeside of the fine line between easygoing and meandering. In a solidfinale, Gelb closes with "Now I Lay Me Down" and "Lemmy N Emmy," twosongs that sound completely formed and confident. Tasteful strings adda stately poignancy to Gelb's worn guitar lines and dusty voice. 
It's so sad that some emo music has gotten the bad rep that it has, asthe style's beginnings had a lot of promise in bands like Sunny DayReal Estate and Mineral. It was energetic, loud guitar music with"emotive" vocal performance and songs that dealt with humanrelationships mostly. Emo has had its off-spring, from the emo-pop ofJimmy Eat World to the emo-sap (or, for me, emo-suck) of DashboardConfessional, and their sound is now more recognized and prevalent thanthe original. They are also the source of the bad reaction to emo.Every once in a while, though, a band or two come along that are loyalto the original sound without sounding trite, and the Impossibles weresuch a band. Showing off all the components of the original sound, butlacking a bit of focus, they released two full-lengths and 2 EPs beforecalling it quits. Now, two members of that band return as Slow Reader,a great name for a band if I've ever heard one. The sound isdrastically different from their former band, as now they record lushpop laments with electronic flourishes. The core feeling is there,though, and the vocal performance is still emotive while maintaining aninteresting detachment and laziness. "I Like You Most" may sound like ahorrible Chris Carraba song title, but it instead takes more from BenFolds and the Beach Boys with overmixed drums and clear harmony vocals."Stupid Bet" features the best lyrics on the whole release, with softlydelivered vocals and remorse over self-created loss and suffering."Anesthetic for the Amputee" is probably the most raw song on thealbum, with just acoustic guitar and a multitude of voices filling thethe speaker. It's a good start, with its weaknesses intact, but itshows promise. For a traditionally punk or ska label to be releasing itis really a good sign of where both artist and label are heading. 
The upright bass gives a resounding and metronomic thump thump thump onthe new Molasses album. This low-octave punctuation generates a gloomyyet suspended feeling: you might grow anxious in the gray fog thatsurrounds these songs, but you simply cannot escape it or shed thegloom. It lumbers methodically after you while your feet are rooted inplace and you have nowhere to go. But the more you are compelled tolisten in place, the more you notice the glistening sounds of the musicwhich come breaking through the gloom. Scott Chernoff's voice isfamiliar and inviting; it has this habit of laying a heavy croon oraccent on the end of verses and lines, while laying off almostdisinterestedly at the beginning of them. It's not unlike rocking upand down on the waves in a unstable rowing boat which could capsizewith the next swell. Again, the feeling is one of inescapableisolation, but this time some Dramamine might help.
Whilst the leading cut promoting the very disappointing Plastic Fangisn't much to get excited over unless you're big into the V/Vm Shakin'Green Door massive, the bulldozing Techno Animal remix of "Over andOver" shows just how a slice of mediocrity can be elevated togreatness. I only picked this single up for that remix, which is ashardass siren spurting as the best of their audio assaults and mightjust be the best thing Spencer has done, or had done to him, sincePussy Galore! Barry Adamson's remix of the same track is alsoeffective, if comparatively slinky and sleazy. It doesn't set theemergency flashlights off at quite the same frequency but it gets thefeet moving frantically with its fucked over drum'n'bass distortionmoves, as does the Tremelo Beer Gut mix of "She Said." Who is TremeloBeergut anyway? Only the sugary sheen of the Sub Species "MoneyRock'N'Roll" remix fails to get my blood pumpin'. This is a bland lotof ol' toss that sounds like some kind of misguided bid for Ibitha.Otherwise, this is a creditable salvage operation that pulls surprisingfiery modern machine shapes from an album that seemed like an exercisein terminally bland self parody. If you've ever enjoyed anything fromTechno Animal, Barry Adamson or Jon Spencer then this single shouldn'tbe ignored. So far I just can't be bothered to watch the four videos ofthe Explosion in action tagged on the end, but I guess they probablyoffer value for rock'n'roll money if you have a computer that can dealwith that much shakin' excitement, Steven.
I used to be a big Meat Puppets fan and when I finally got the chanceto see them play live and interview them it was a blast. Curt Kirkwoodwas as hilarious, hallucinatory and obtuse an interviewee as his lyricsmight have suggested he could be and they effortlessly blew thecomparatively lame Soul Asylum right out the door. Nirvana should needeven less introduction. So here are Kirkwood and former Nirvana bassistin a new trio with a drummer from some band called Sublime who I'venever heard of and probably never will bother to. As you might expect,Eyes Adrift are much more like Meat Puppets than Nirvana, after all,Kirkwood was that band's main songwriter. He still splashes togetherdashes of punk rock, country and weird psychedelic acidfire guitarsolos in a way that shouldn't disappoint any old Meat Puppets fans. Infact, the new band seems to have revitalised him and set him lookingfor slightly new angles to throw his illusive songlight on. The albumstarts unobtrusively and builds inexorably. What would be the firstside seems to coast by nicely, but it seems they saved the best songsfor the second half. "Solid" is classic Kirkwood, a huge psyched outlament by a protagonist whose blood has frozen in his veins, perhaps aperverse metaphorical reflection on Meat Puppets and his bassistbrother's drug problems? "Telescope" should have lovers of cute melodictwists and hard chuggin' metal riffage alike grinning from ear to ear,as Kirkwood shows anyone who'll listen how he'll aim his potato gun atthe sun. By the time they run themselves a "Slow Race," where theobject is to lose, there are no fish left in the streams, they've alltaken to the air. Despite some subtle textures imparted by computerediting and recording, there aren't really any huge leaps from MeatPuppets music, but some small progression has been made out of thecreative cul de sac that band seemed to end up in latterly. My biggestsurprise was finding a copy of this CD for the price of half a pint ofbooze in a bargain bin, but the last track is also quite a curveball."Pasted" is an epic meandering voyage that stretches out well overfifteen minutes and glues a vaguely folk rock lyric about old St Paul,which might be sung by Novoselic, onto some of Kirkwood's most ecstaticsundrenched guitar noise ever. You can hear the entire album at the 
Belgian Arne Van Petegem is also making an attempt to graduate from theclass of instrumental group of European laptop nerds with his latestEP, a prelude to his forthcoming second full-length album. In the threeyears since his last LP, Arne has been recruited by a number ofmusicians and labels to do remixes, singles and compilation tracks.It's probably through this that he reached two conclusions: #1) it'snot so bad to start including organic sounds like guitar back into themix and #2) my voice isn't so bad that I can't start singing the songsI write! Arne even harmonizes with himself on the title track of thisEP, a blissfull introduction to the more evolved Styrofoam sound. Thepretty melodies and robotic percussion have not been forfeited and thevocals and guitars just add a much nicer dimension on this, a moreradio-frendly version of a track of the forthcoming album. "Fade OutYour Eyes" is a live recording of what sounds pretty much likeStyrofoam remixing himself: letting his vocals and instruments twitterand waiver in a beat-less tapestry of digitally echoing samples whichcould easily go on forever. The disc is rounded out by two charmingtechnologically-enhanced cover tunes: "Hard to Find," originally byCodeine and "Snow Crush Killing Song," originally by Mountain Goats.The full-length I'm What's There to Show That Something's Missingis due out this week, but those lucky enough to catch the Notwist ontour right now can catch both a set by Styrofoam and his place in theNotwist, filling in for Martin Gretschmann, who's off doing stuff withConsole right now. While I still might have reservations when it comesto laptop performers, Styrofoam deserves credit for having a rock clubaudience attentive and interested, something most laptoppers can stillonly fanticize about.
What's immediately striking about the third album by Michael Gira's Angels of Light is the visual presentation. The six photos—an empty chair, a cluttered desk, a room full of plants, a bookcase loaded with CDs and books, a rosary draped over a thermostat, and, perhaps most tellingly, an empty bedseem to paint a picture of a sufficient but lonely life.
Seemingly out of nowhere comes this 21-year-old oddball whose fourtrack demo tape piqued the interest of Michael Gira and thus thisrelease on Young God and membership in The Angels of Light. Banhart'sbiography reads like a transient David Lynch. He has lived everywherefrom Texas to Caracas to Paris to a NYC squat, attended art school inSan Francisco and played gay weddings and Ethiopian restaurants.Somehow it all makes sense. Selected for this disc are 22 of the 75 orso songs recorded over the past three to four years. Gira wiselydecided not to polish the diamond in the rough, i.e. he has simplyreleased the original demos rather than quarantine Banhart in a studiofor new versions. This is bare Banhart: double tracked voice andacoustic guitar with whistles and hand claps, plus tape hiss andwhatever else happened to be going on in the background for extracharacter. Most of the time the finger picking is plaintive and thevocals are hushed (recalling Nick Drake some), at others it's much morefrantic with wild strumming (recalling Syd Barret some) and thefalsetto morphing into the call of some yet to be discovered rainforest bird. The lyrics are suitably simple and/or surreal withdeceivingly naive plays on words and word associations that reveal asharp mind. Prime examples are in "Roots (If The Sky Were a Stone)":"when the roots of the tree / are as cold as can be / when the wind andthe sea / are the moth and the bee / when the rays of the sun / lickyour skin with its tongue / and the grass with its green / and theshine with its sheen / and the trains with their tracks / and thespines with their backs / and your sway with its slow / and the windwith its blow" and in "Michigan State": "well my snail has my favoriteslow / the shell helps the snail still the skin lays low / and if mysnail has my favorite slow / then my cold has my favorite snow / but ifmy snail is cold and comes to a halt / then my sea has my favorite salt/ the salt keeps the sea from feeling sweet / and my toes have myfavorite feet / and if I sweat salt and the Earth sweats heat". Inaddition, there's "Lend Me Your Teeth" with it's strange single linemantra: "I'm lost in the dark / lend me your teeth / come on!"Everything is fair game as subject matter for Banhart's songs (10 areless than two minutes long and many come to a sudden, unexpected end)including lovers, teachers, friends and family. I never get theimpression that he's being weird for weird's sake—it's eccentric butgenuine, child-like but brilliant, raw but real. These songs areextraordinarily touching, melodic and infectious. 
