May 31st, 2006
By M.C. Bell
Welcome back, friends! Hope you’re all doing well. Me? I’m doing great and thanks for asking. But I gotta tell you, like many of you out there, I am still recovering from that emotional roller coaster ride that ended last week. I mean, whoa. . .I’m tearing up just thinking about it. How cool, nay, how inspiring was it to see a mentally retarded young man chase his dreams and reach the pinnacle of success? That’s a rhetorical question, of course, because it was damn cool. Damn inspiring. So, before we go any further, let’s give a shout out to this amazing young man. That’s right, Soul Patrol, give it up for our boy, Taylor “Corky†Hicks! WHOOOO!!!! High five!!!
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In fact, friends, I found Taylor’s story so inspiring, I, too, began the quest to fulfill my secret dream. No, not the one where I’m the “pants-less†warden of an all-female prison, the other one. . .where I’m a popular singer. Now, unlike Taylor, I fancy myself to be more of a country crooner and the whole “M.C.†thing didn’t fit. So the first thing I had to do was to come up with a catchy, country-sounding “stage name.†Then, of course, I actually had to learn HOW to sing. THAT was the tough part. But, after many months of study and practice, all my hard work has paid off and I am finally ready to release my first album. So, friends, as you head out to the record store to pick up Taylor’s new disc, Grey-Haired Palms, grab yourself a copy of my new album. . .
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And yes, ladies. . .I AM single.
Oh yeah, that reminds me. Some other people released some new discs that you might be interested in, as well. For instance, there’s a new album from an old friend, Jack White, plus a couple of cool, little releases from Rookie of the Year and the Ditty Bops. So, what do you say? Let’s have a listen, eh?
 | Artist: Raconteurs Album: Broken Toy Soldiers Bastard Love Child of: White Stripes and the Traveling Wilburys. Best for: Understanding that a raconteur is a person who is good at telling stories. |
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It’s not uncommon for a White Stripe fan to wonder what their band would sound like with the addition of a bass player. In fact, some fans, like Redd Kross’ bass player Steve McDonald, went one step further and actually dropped bass lines all over the Stripes’ White Blood Cells. . .to umm, mixed reviews. Well, fans, wonder no more. . .sorta. You see, Jack White, the creepy-looking, fashion-challenged guitar virtuoso, has temporarily dumped his sister/mother/secret lover/drummer/bandmate, Meg White, to join forces with a couple of his other buddies; namely guitarist Brendan Benson and the entire rhythm section of the Cincinnati rock band, the Greenhornes (bassist Jack Lawrence and drummer Patrick Keeler). And let me be the first to tell you, folks, together, as the Raconteurs, White and friends have crafted music that is much sweeter and more pop-oriented than anything the White Stripes or the Greenhornes ever produced on their own.
I attribute this new found “sweetness†to the exceptional harmonizing between White and Benson, who share guitar and vocal leads on the disc, as well. The dual vocals here are a nice touch and add impressive depth and variety to many of the tracks to ensure repeated listenings. Now, admittedly, there is nothing on this tight little album, whose 10 songs clock in at a brisk 34 minutes, as insanely catchy as the groups first single, “Steady As She Goes.†So be forewarned. The other tracks have ample hooks, both lyrically and musically, but it will take a few trips through the disc to really get you warmed up. Also, if you are simply looking for a “new†White Stripes disc with some different, and freakier looking players, keep looking. The only song on Broken Toy Soldiers that even comes close to sounding like a Stripes song is the title track. Backed by crunchy, Middle Eastern-style guitar drones and crisp drumming, White’s tortured falsetto will bring to mind the last Stripes album, Get Behind Me Satan. But that’s as close as you’re going to get to White Stripes goodness. I would recommend going into this album thinking “Traveling Wilburys-lite.†And no, that’s not a bad thing.
Additionally, if you are a fan of White’s riffing and solo bursts, you are going to have to dig deep into the disc to find them. The only two songs here that really allow Jack to flex any guitar muscle come late in the disc with “Store Bought Bones,†a tough sounding, prog-rock epic that is equal parts Deep Purple and Zeppelin and the album closer, “Blue Veins,†a bluesy, whiskey-soaked ballad choke full of White’s “alt-blues†chops.
It’s highly likely that this album will stand as a one-shot wonder, so enjoy it while it lasts. Consider it a half hour well spent.
Rating: 4 out of 5
 | Artist: Rookie of the Year Album: The Goodnight Moon Bastard Love Child of: Jimmy Eat World and Yellowcard. Best for: Gazing at your shoes while waiting for the fries to cook. |
So. . .do you kids like emo music? Do bands like Copeland, Jimmy Eat World, Death Cab for Cutie and The Juliana Theory make your pimples tingle? Well, my friends, do I have a band for you. Their name? Rookie of the Year.
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Now, in all fairness, I’ve had this disc sitting on my desk for almost two months, but, after a cursory pass, I never gave it a second thought. That was a mistake!! Kinda like that one time I went to a Melissa Etheridge concert to meet chicks. Luckily, though, I got a second chance at this band as they rolled through Denver with another phenomenal (and underrated) band, MuteMath. I’ll tell you right now, with the energy of the live show and the immediate accessibility of the music, color me impressed. Of course, I’m not saying that Rookie of the Year’s music is breaking down barriers or re-defining emo. Far from it. But screw it. . .these guys know how to play to their strengths and they do the emo genre proud with heartfelt vocals and soaring harmonies, lush choruses and persistent, harmonic guitar leads. And really, fellow “shoe gazers,†what more could we ask for?
Rookie of the Year’s, The Goodnight Moon, is the first, full length disc from this North Carolina band and their first as a four-piece. You see, RotY (as the “cool†people like to call them) started life as the acoustic solo project of vocalist/guitarist Ryan Dunson. . .that’s him up there, second from the right. . .yeah, with the comb-over. However, Ryan soon realized that he would be better served with an actual band and recruited guitarist Mike Kamerman, bassist Pat Murphy and drummer TJ Holt. For good measure, he tossed in acclaimed indie producer, Ed Rose (The Get Up Kids), and ended up with a strong disc “filled to the brim†with well-written, thoughtful and catchy-as-all-hell pop tunes.
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The disc opens with “The Goodnight Moon,†an ambient track whose slow build bleeds seamlessly into the first “real†song, “Poison Like Your Own.†It’s with this track that the listener gets their first taste of Dunson’s dynamic and yearning vocals. It’s also the listeners first taste of the un-inspired, sometimes clichéd lyrics (“I’m drowning for your love. . .â€), my only real knock to this band. Musically, though, the band provides numerous high points on this disc, dropping hook after hook with a nice blend of acoustic and electric guitars. My personal favorites are the slow waltz of “Silhouettes (All Eyes Above),†the finger snapping “Sign of Her Glory†and the slow burn of “The Blue Roses.†I will admit, the disc loses steam on the closing tracks as Ryan reverts back to a more solo-oriented, acoustic approach, but when the band is working together, they are truly something to behold.
The Goodnight Moon is a great, little “surprise†of a disc that is well suited to repeated listenings and new “favorites†emerge each time. If you are a fan of the emo scene, I highly recommend this disc. First and foremost, because it’s fantastic, secondly, these guys are some of the coolest musicians I have ever met. And hey, if you ever get a chance to see these guys live, do it, and after the show, be sure to ask them about how their van got towed at the Denver show. Good stuff.
Rating: 4 out of 5
 | Artist: The Ditty Bops Album: Moon Over The Freeway Bastard Love Child of: Jenny Lewis and The Dresden Dolls Best for: Background music as you get dressed in your Dr. Frank-N-furter costume for the midnight showing of Rocky Horror. |
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It’s hard to believe, but The Ditty Bops (the smoking hot duo of former model Amanda Barrett and tomboy hottie, Abby Dewald), with their eclectic musical combination of folk, ragtime, pop, jugband, country swing, jazz and alternative, have created the musical equivalent of a puppy. I mean, good lord. . .this is the cutest, most adorable music you will ever hear and I don’t care how big of a cynical bastard or bitch you may be, it’s going to bring a smile to your face. . .guarenteed.
Does that mean that the music is childish and silly? Hardly. You see, under the “cute†veneer lurks a couple of accomplished musicians and brilliant vocalists who are as comfortable wielding dulcimers, toy pianos and accordions as they are mandolins, banjos and acoustic guitars. In fact, Moon Over The Freeway, the second disc from the L.A. duo, is actually a mature and sophisticated album that readily shows that the girls have actually grown in confidence and musical prowess from their first outing.
That being said, I’ll admit that it’s easy to lose site of the “maturity and sophistication†amongst the odd instrumentation which, at times, sounds too whimsical to have any substance. But keep digging and you’ll quickly realize that the unique instrumentation and throw-back sound, although extremely prominent, are not meant to be the focal point of the girls sound. On the contrary, over the course of any given track, the music becomes unobtrusive and serves as the perfect counterpoint for the girls beautiful voices as they weave around one another and blend together to mesmerizing effect.
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Personally, every track on this disc is a winner, but my personal favorites are “Your Head’s Too Big,†with the brilliant line “Your head’s so big and tall how is it that your thoughts are so small†and “Waking Up In The City,†which features the following lyric: “We’ll frolic in the pesticide grass underneath the smog/Don’t gotta worry ’bout bee stings!/Don’t gotta worry ’bout ants!”
If you are looking for a true, alternative experience, pick up this disc. Or hell, catch the girls on one of their many stops as they peddle across the country on their bikes to promote the new album. Good stuff all the way around and you won’t be disappointed.
Rating: 4 out of 5
PEARL JAM FANS STRIKE BACK. . .UMM, SORTA.
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As promised, here are the only, two Pearl Jam-related letters that I received that didn’t just call me a douche bag. By the way. . .what the hell is a douche bag? Is there really such a thing and is it even bad? Ladies. . .why do you put them in a bag? Are you saving them? Wouldn’t it be easier to just throw them away? And, most importantly, why did 5, separate emails each start out with “You are a douche bag?†Is this some kind of agreed upon, “secret†Pearl Jam put down? Seriously. Pretty weird shit. At any rate, here are a couple of really cool Pearl Jam fans:
Leo Lucky writes:
I have to say you just made me a life-long fan of anything you write with that column—and I mean the whole thing, even though I’m writing in about the PJ piece. Seriously, keep that shit up and don’t ever change.
And now for the riot act (note: this letter will be filled with these half-veiled PJ references, so look out). I first saw the band open up for the Chili Peppers back in 90 at a place in Dallas called The Basement (which, alas, no longer exists). I was quite impressed by this loud, angry, rocking sound and the little guy up front who was jumping all over the place. By the time Evenflo came out (it was a slow burn, if you remember), I had my friends anticipating them at the first EdgeFest (it was actually an Earth Day concert, I think) again in Dallas my senior year of high school (1992). They rocked the joint so hard that no one even stayed for the headliner, Dramarama (‘member them?).
And then they hit. We all know the rest of the story.
But let’s talk about me. In the time between Versus (originally titled ‘Five Against the World’) and the misstep that was Vitology, I had collected 20 or so PJ bootlegs, every single import, single, vinyl, and still to this day have magazine articles and Rolling Stone covers from that period. This was MY band. I discovered them. They belonged to me. This was literally true among my circle of friends, and back then they were hard-driving gods of rock and roll whose live performances were epic religious experiences for me. I was a front-row fan all the way, completely enthralled in a state of love and trust. I have a DirtyFrank T-Shirt, for crying out loud. I apologized for Vitology, Eddie’s marbles, and the fact that they were so into PETA (rats have rights? You’ve got to be kidding me). By the time No Code was said and done, I stopped apologizing. I think even I could feel the slippage. And Vedder had stopped jumping around on everything. He actually kicked me in the hand once at Lollapalooza 92 when he swung out over the crown on a rope ladder. Think THAT didn’t pump me up? WOW! But lately he just kind of stands there bouncing his bob up and down and making slurred, mumbled, hopefully ironic statements about the government. The band’s evolution has just made this fan extinct.
(Whew) All that being said, I actually think Binaural and Yield are great discs, though they rarely capture the might of the first two discs. I bought the last one but only listened to it once (can’t even remember the name or bring myself to do enough research to find it) because it sucked and I wasn’t in the mood to listen to some old fart (Vedder’s in his 40s) bitch and moan about things he really was ignorant on anyway. Yes, the rest of the band is extremely talented, but Eddie decided to stop really using his voice sometime before Yield. Gone is that super-scream that had me going so much back in the grunge days. In its place is something weak. Why go home? Cause it just ain’t what it used to be, and it’s a damn shame when it happens. Metallica is going through it right now, and it’s freaking painful to listen to.
Now, I still haven’t missed one of their tours, and they still put on a fantastic show (the way Black rolls out in a live performance is subtle, amazing, and gets more and more interesting as the years go by), but seeing as they’re not coming anywhere within a 4 hour drive of Dallas this year I won’t be seeing them. Can’t say I’m all that upset. I grew out of defending them a long time ago, and think Vedder’s just a little silly nowadays. That there are still guys out there that will is pathetic, but to each their own—after all, I’ll write you a dissertation on Supergrass any day.
Until then, here’s me not buying that avocado-laden self-titled offering. Don’t call me, daughter. I just can’t be bothered.
Great column, man.
Thanks, Leo Lucky
And this one from Andrew Waldner:
Hello there Mr. Bell, just responding to your call on Pearl Jam fans.
Actually, I have no rebuttal. I have no idea why you think Pearl Jam fans are any more obsessed with defending their band from criticism than other bands’ fans are. Yes we’re a strange cult that there really is no explanation for. And of course I love the band, I’m crazy obsessed with them, to the point I love their last two albums when most of the world barely noticed them. I also admit they have little humor and not everyone’s going to appreciate that. Is there some reason youre entire review was a personal attack? Sure, hate their seriousness, hate their views, but next time try to write a review on the music, not on your own personal feelings.
Oh, I agree about the new Chili Peppers CD, they really did a fantastic job bringing all their talents onto this one. Although I have to disagree about “Dani California,” I just don’t get anything from it. I think other songs on the album would have been such better lead singles, and it pales in comparison to previous ones like “By the Way.”
Andrew
Thanks for writing in, gentlemen, and even more importantly, thanks for reading.
Well, friends, that is going to do it for this week. So, until next time, keep wearing it proud and playing it loud!
Send marriage proposals, review copies, presents and assorted hate mail to:
M.C. Bell
P.O. Box 1222
Arvada, CO 80001
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