Tell Them Hi
CAMPFIRE GIRLS
Interscope
Nearly 10 years ago, Los Angeles' all-male Campfire Girls made enough waves with their moody, idiosyncratic alt-rock to get them signed to Interscope. In the wake of some heavy hype and EP releases, however, the group sank back below the surface, weighed down by rumors of drug use and the label's qualms regarding their marketability. (At the time, Interscope was very publicly implementing a policy whereby artists it felt had serious drug problems were compelled to enter rehab before their records would be released.)
In 2002, songs from the mid-'90s EPs and the sessions that might've yielded their debut full-length were collected on the indie release Delongpre, showcasing an edgy, truly original take on fuzzed-out modern rock.
Late 2003's much more mainstream Tell Them Hi, unfortunately, finds the band cutting that maverick personality with generous portions of tried-and-true convention. Some of the elements that made their early work so intriguing — distorted bass tracks, overlapping single-note guitar wash, taut dynamics and surprising chord progressions — are still around, particularly in promising opener "Junkman," "Pedestal," "Post-Coital," and "Homework," a holdover from previous releases.
But big production, bigger anthemic cliches and a few utterly predictable choruses have lessened Campfire Girls' once singular impact. Occasionally, they even approximate the innocuous hooks of L.A.-scene contemporaries Tonic. Which is not to say Tell Them Hi is a failure; at its most blatantly commercial ("Someday," "Day Before," "Incomplete"), the band is still able to impart something more than mere airwave pandering. There are some throwaways ("Fancy Shirt," "Broken Tooth"), and listeners who were exposed to the potential of previous tunes will be a bit stung. On the other hand, this disc is better than the formulaic stuff it too often stoops to consider, and will hopefully lead intrepid new fans back to the iconoclastic earnestness of Delongpre. 
—Scott Harrell
Mylab
MYLAB
Terminus
This is what happens when a gang of musical crazies gathers around a tandem of trailblazers. Mylab is the brainchild of Seattle-based pianist/composer Wayne Horvitz and producer/engineer/sound manipulator Tucker Martine. They've concocted a thoroughly mind-bending, genre-obliterating disc just about equally emphasizing groove, melody and pure sound. The duo actually began the Mylab project by sampling and looping old folk recordings from the public domain, then decided to replace most of the samples with playing by forward-thinking musicians who could reinterpret the vintage material. But Mylab does not sound like a deconstructionist take on old-time music (a la Moby). It sounds very much like its own animal — an unpredictable, busy, often cacophonous animal. Mylab features work by 15 contributing musicians, most notable among them guitarist Bill Frisell, drummer Bobby Previte and saxophonist Sherik. This ambitious sonic smear includes elements of spy jazz, dub, funk, various African stylings, mountain music, drum 'n' bass, drones, even, hell, some stuff you might consider rock.
And far from being wanton skronk, most of the songs have a strong melodic core. Solos (on piano, organ, guitar, fiddle, banjo, sax, flugelhorn and more) pop up in odd places and then vanish; horn licks appear out of nowhere; space sections morph into grooves; singing and chants bubble up now and again; bleeps and blips color the music. Suffice to say that, with Mylab, a whole lot is going on all the time, and most of the time it's extremely intoxicating. www.terminusrecords.com
—ERIC SNIDER
Don't Explain
JOEL FRAHM WITH BRAD MEHLDAU
Palmetto
Two Connecticut high school pals join forces for a charming duet session of pop chestnuts, jazz standards and an original. Frahm, on tenor and soprano sax, and pianist Mehldau display a relaxed chemistry as they swing through effervescent tunes like "Smile" and "Get Happy," and navigate the darker waters of the title track and "Round Midnight." One of the most likable aspects of this disc is the way the two instrumentalists, sans rhythm section, explore such a variety of moods. The most refreshing selection here is a stately take on Lennon/McCartney's "Mother Nature's Son," with Frahm's unadorned soprano ladling the melody over Mehldau's rolling chords. Don't Explain is a CD free of guile and gimmick — just an honest set of songs and solos marked by emotional generosity. 1/2
—ERIC SNIDER
Leave Your Name
STATISTICS
Jade Tree
Shortly after rising to national notice as part of ragged, socially aware rock spectacle Desaparecidos, Denver Dalley released an introductory EP by his semi-solo project, Statistics. While engaging in its blend of frail guitar and electronic atmospheres, the self-titled disc also suffered a bit from unfocused or unfinished ideas. Leave Your Name makes good on those ideas, and occasionally expands Dalley's usually intimate melancholia to grand proportions. Here, even when Statistics isn't sounding like a band, it's at least sounding like a project, rather than a series of sketches — though the disc is full of brief interludes and little sonic cul-de-sacs, these moments are surrounded by big, well-developed tracks. The guitar and live drums are more prominent, but the assorted textures, beats, keys and noises have also risen to meet the rawk head-on, resulting in dynamic, propulsive indie-pop songs that effectively balance bombast with the inventive arrangements and pocket-sized portraits that drew interest in the first place. Highlights include the putting-critics-on-notice treatise "Sing A Song," the brief, endearing techno-meditation "Hours Seemed like Days," and the maudlin "2 A.M.," but there's nary a filler track or overly artsy non-song to be found. 1/2
—Scott Harrell
Error
ERROR
Epitaph
Epitaph's new all-star band, Error, dares to fuse two musical styles traditionally opposed to each other — punk rock and electronica — and just might have the big names to pull it off. Fans of Nine Inch Nails will be excited to hear the strong production influence of NIN/Nothing programmer Atticus Ross. The songs are at times reminiscent of NIN, but with more punk attitude. Lyricist Brett Guerwitz confessed that his role in writing lyrics for Error gave him a chance to be "unabashedly cynical and negative," straying from the more thoughtful lyrics he wrote for Bad Religion. Cynical and negative? These nihilistic stanzas, delivered raspy/hardcore-style by Dillinger Escape Plan's Gregg Puciato, are enough to justify Baker Acting the entire crew. If Error's vocals were wiped out, it could be easily mixed into a drunken Florida drum 'n' bass set, especially the Squarepusher/Bogdan Racyznski breaks in "Brains Out." Error's primary strength — a strong lineup of talented, unique, and established artists — also contributes to its major drawback: The tracks are at times scattered, skipping in and out of genres at disorienting speed. Nevertheless, anyone who is interested in electronica, industrial, punk, hardcore, or just plain chaos should check this album out.
—Valerie Mojeiko
This article appears in Jan 28 – Feb 3, 2004.