Wednesday, February 5, 1997
Built to Spill "Perfect from Now On" (Warner Brothers) Pop songs
work  especially for the latter half of 1996 and the new
year. In fact, they have always been a safe commercial bet for the
past two decades. But do they still work when they are over eight
minutes long?
Built to Spill frontman Bill Martsch seems to think so, and
Warner Brothers must agree with him somewhat, signing the band
after only three independent releases. They put their faith in the
lead singer/songwriter/ guitarist, knowing that he can write catchy
pop melodies at the blink of an eye, not to mention really good
songs.
Nevertheless, Built to Spill’s fourth album comes off more like
Mr. Martsch’s opus than a radio-friendly, major label cash-in.
However, therein lies the album’s strengths. At 54 minutes, the
eight songs are chapters and Martsch’s lyrics and vocals are the
prose. This is not a joy-reader but an introspective, filled with
figuratives, ideologies, stories and illustrations.
But as the prose becomes harder to follow down the page, the
lines blur into unconscious thoughts, and the music runs every
which way but straight. Swirling buzzes of guitars and entrancing
vocals from Martsch that sounds like Perry Farrell’s innocent drawl
mix intros and endings at ease. Then, suddenly a catchy pop hook
appears from nowhere to bring the listener back to consciousness at
the turn of the page.
Martsch likes to misdirect his songs, adding in a Moog, cello
and mellotron in mid flight He’ll then replace them with
guitar-fuzzed melodies and switch solos and timbre unexpectedly.
"Stop the Show" could be three songs but chooses to flow in pieces,
slowly coming together into one cohesive song. In fact, the entire
album, from "Randy Described Eternity" to "Untrustable/Part 2,"
puts the pieces together one by one, comprising a completed
work.
Built to Spill isn’t doing anything innovative and new. There
are more than a handful of ambient pop rock bands who have a niche
for making long car drives enjoyable. But it’s Martsch’s confidence
and inventiveness in his songwriting that elevates Built to Spill.
His confidence comes clear even in the album title itself, hinting
at greatness before a listen of a single note. Although his
longtime girlfriend is credited with the premature title, Martsch
delivers the goods, making sure she won’t be caught eating her
words. Brendon Vandergast Grade: A
Wammo "Fat Headed Stranger" (Mercury) "There is no gob of spit
big enough to cover the TV," declares Wammo, kicking off the first
track of the spoken word/punk rock album "Fat Headed Stranger."
Yet, this less- than-traditional form of music may take a few spins
on the CD changer before it loosens up the ears and takes hold.
Doing everything from spouting angst-driven tales of a childhood
Batman fetish to yodeling the country tune of a harmonica-laced
song about a skinhead on a skateboard and his relation to the
fashion faux pas of "wearing flannel when flannel wasn’t cool,"
Wammo provides a unique listening experience.
Best when played as background music to the dripping of red nail
polish down a shredded up "Say Anything" poster in a merciless ode
to Valentine’s Day and the false hope of a fairy-tale relationship
the holiday inspires, Wammo encourages borderline behavior. He gets
under your skin with songs like "There is Too Much Light in This
Bar," where his claustrophobically pounding guitar strummings and
jarring lines like, "I’m here to do heroin and fuck and I’m all out
of heroin," tear into your skull. Where he’ll take the
ever-changing storyline next remains a ceaseless mystery. How he’ll
get there remains an even bigger mystery, but why he chooses to
make the journey appears obvious. There is a lot of pain and crap
to deal with in this world.
Kurt Cobain’s death resulted in more intolerant, brain-dead
youths to squeal his lyrics with no idea as to what the Nirvana
frontman really meant. Drunk fathers in the backwoods beat their
sons for writing poetry. New York gets hot in the summer and
there’s a shortage of beer. In the somewhat pretentious tradition
of a ranting Henry Rollins, Wammo proves that perhaps there is too
much light in this bar. Maybe we all should just pour another drink
and dim the stained glass reflections hanging over the pool table.
Vanessa VanderZanden Grade: B+
Comet "Chandelier Musings" (Dedicated) Does the band Comet rip
through the atmosphere at a cosmic speed with streams of fire close
in tow? Not exactly. Their new album "Chandelier Musings" does,
however, give a hint as to the astral pleasures space men must
feel, floating gravity-less through the galaxies. In some places,
it seems to provide a clear vision as to what an asteroid belt of
closing lounge acts in a smoky blue room would look like in the
eternal night-time glow of the milky way.
Slight piano accompaniments to barely audible violin dronings
trail casually behind wispy guitar riffs to create a somber air of
tranquility. Yet, the lead singer’s scratchy voice disturbs this
settling domain, forcing out lyrics of loss and sorrow in the hopes
of appealing to sad girls who apply make-up before kissing their
wall-sized posters of the Cure’s Robert Smith.
Fortunately, Comet knows to keep vocals out of the majority of
their songs, extracting notes from the lead singer’s throat only
when they absolutely can’t contain themselves. Perfect for
after-hours Sunday evening cram sessions, when the weekend’s
relentless oozing of all-nighters and unhealthy mental medications
finally catch up to your failing system, Comet’s "Chandelier
Musings" acts as a calming way to ease into Monday morning.
The last song, an untitled track, does the smoothest job of
causing your unfocused eyes to drift off the words printed on the
page before you and onto the warping shapes displayed on your
screen saver as your mind becomes conscious only of the lunar
activity inherent in the music’s bedtime beat. Still, just as the
dupe in a hypnotist’s show will not recall his sordid activities at
the mind manipulator’s snap of a finger, you’ll jump to attention
when the CD clicks off and wonder where you are and what you just
listened to. Vanessa VanderZanden Grade: B
fluf "Waikiki" (MCA/Way Cool Music) A few years ago, when a
major pop music magazine hailed San Diego as the next hot music
spot to replace the Seattle grunge craze, many industry folks
focused their attention toward the strong underground punk locale
brewing down south. But after the hype, only a few bands emerged
with their heads above ground, with the power punk trio fluf
leading the way.
As a tour regular with punk icon Jawbreaker and a return
invitation to the Warped skateboard tour the past two years, fluf’s
exposure has produced major-label decor. With a well- deserved
opportunity to make a lasting impression on the major music world,
fluf has taken it by the neck on their fourth full-length
album.
Unlike their previous works that were butchered with
hit-and-miss tunes, "Waikiki" mixes the best of big Fender guitar
chords (think early Nirvana) and clean melodies and vocals a la
Husker Du into 13 satiating hits. Heavyweight lead singer/guitarist
O showcases his spotless voice and simpleton dogma that ranges from
life to relationships and everything in between.
He refrains from circumventing the point. Whether he asks, "How
can you cry when you’ve got everything?" on the grungy "Got
Everything" or, "How can I make it up to you?" on "Bump," the
questions are always clear and familiar. Familiar enough that when
Track 10, "Chocolate," comes around, you’ll definitely be singing
along. Brendon Vandergast Grade: B+
Cravin’ Melon "Red Clay Harvest" (Mercury) Cravin’ Melon is a
Hootie for the pre-30-year-old set. They’d probably vomit if they
heard that  they’re not millionaires, and they’re not as
cliched and slickly produced. They also have a much more
countryish, casual feel  like Athens’ Vigilantes of Love.
Still, there’s that undeniable tight harmony and predictability
that beckons the "H" word.
But in some cases, is that so horrible? Listen to one Hootie
song and you’ll actually find yourself humming along. The danger is
that those songs are so easy to write and popular that every band
becomes a Hootie band. These bands are to music what "The Brady
Bunch" was to television  horrendously popular and cliched,
hideously shiny and happy. And neither Hootie nor the Bradys knew
they were as campy as they are. So if you get a craving for Hootie,
do the biz a favor and reach for Cravin’ Melon instead. Kristin
Fiore Grade: B
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