Our Enemies Are Invisible
THE CHASE THEORY
One Day Savior
On … In Pursuit of Excellence, their previous release for New York-based emo label One Day Savior, Bradenton's Chase Theory sounded like a promising band playing every trick they had. Ambitious but mired in anonymous Foo Fighters-inspired pop and sprawling jams (two of the EP's five songs clocked in at five-plus minutes — an eternity in emo-time), these guys obviously had it together, but they lacked distinction.
Scarcely a year later, they've come back with Our Enemies Are Invisible, which is by contrast far more terse. CT has progressed beyond the simple hooks and drawn-out jams of their previous EP without losing their most important assets: frontman Matt Burke's vocals and the other two members' seamless shifts in groove. For an illustration in how emo can mature beyond the confines of its genre, compare this band's past two albums. Burke sings with vendetta-like rage, spewing each syllable like a New Orleans street preacher bent on indicting the unwashed masses.
Or in this case, us listeners — opener "Silhouette" and mid-disc highlight "Waking the Dead" are perhaps the best illustrations. Brother Danny Burke and drummer J.P. Beaubien (hold on — beau = boyfriend, bien = good — "good boyfriend?") shift gears easily behind frontman Burke's tattered lyrics and structured chords.
Our Enemies has all the qualities that made Jets to Brazil's '98 release Orange Rhyming Dictionary so justifiably hyped, complete with its acute wit and unapologetic sensitivity. If you're looking for virtuoso soloing, guttural howling or the prescribed quirkiness that seems a validation factor in modern rock, look elsewhere. If you want to sing along with your catharses, however, this is a good place to get your fix. (www.onedaysavior.com) 
—MARK SANDERS
Travels in the South
CHRIS STAMEY
Yep Roc
Despite the Faulkner-esque promise of its title, Travels in the South, Chris Stamey's first solo disc in more than a decade, strikes a chord of universal Americana. The 49-year-old godfather of Southern alt-pop — a former member of the dBs, journeyed sideman and seasoned producer of acts ranging from Whiskeytown to Yo La Tengo — has crafted a beguiling chunk of omnipop, splashed with stylistic flourishes from jazz to country. Melody carries the day. Stamey writes grabby but sophisticated hooks, letting the songs unfold, outfitting them with exquisite bridges and concise solos. His clear, somewhat fragile, tenor perfectly suits the tunes. Lovely harmony vocals, mandatory for this type of record, add color but never become overbearing. Stamey's staple is guitar, of course, but he sprinkles in electric piano, pedal steel, organ, piano, flute and other instruments to add sonic heft. His lyrics are personal but not confessional or whiny, and are imbued with a warm nostalgia. We've all heard albums of this sort that are striking at first, then quickly become disposable. Travels in the South turns that notion on its ear, becoming more engaging with each listen. Stamey has brought all of his diverse talents to bear on an album that can best be described as a triumph. (www.yeproc.com)
—ERIC SNIDER
Van Lear Rose
LORETTA LYNN
Interscope
The coal miner's daughter received quite a belated gift for her 69th birthday, which was April 14. Van Lear Rose, released 13 days later, has become an instant hit, entering the Billboard country chart at No. 2, and the pop survey at No. 24. The album's success is ever more sweet because it broke all the Nashville rules. Recorded in 12 days on an 8-track machine, and produced by alt-rock wunderkind (and uber-fan) Jack White (White Stripes), Van Lear Rose possesses the kind of down home authenticity that's rarely heard, and is even shunned, in today's contemporary country. Furthermore, the album has hopped to the top without benefit of a hit single. Van Lear Rose is an honest-to-goodness country album, with tender ballads, honky-tonk tunes and some gospel-flavored sing-alongs. Some of the songs have a modern rock backbone, but by no means does that make this a crossover effort. White has not tried to reinvent Lynn, just bring out the best in her. At his behest, she wrote all the tunes. The disc's most rockin' tune is "Portland, Oregon," a stomping duet with Lynn and White that lightheartedly talks about a one-nighter fueled by pitchers of "sloe gin fizz." White ups the energy quotient with some brilliantly buzzy slide guitar work. Elsewhere, Van Lear Rose is decorated with weeping pedal steels, sawing fiddles and slinky dobro. Lynn, whose voice is in great shape, still possesses a real flair for musical narrative. On the loping "Family Tree," a woman brings her "little babies" to confront the "trash" who's "burning down our family tree." "Miss Being Mrs.," built around a lone acoustic guitar, tenderly ruminates on the loss of Lynn's late husband Doo. The disc flirts with too much corn in a couple of cases: the impossibly sunny "High on a Mountain Top"; and "Little Red Shoes," where Lynn talks a story from her childhood over a simmering rhythm track. But overall, in an era when popular music seems increasingly canned and created for the marketplace, it's encouraging to see an album become popular for all the right reasons. 1/2
—ERIC SNIDER
Australasia
PELICAN
Hydra Head
Instrumental metal is tough to pull off. Teeter toward moody simplicity, and you come off as turgid. Teeter toward ambitious complexity, and you come off as, well, a pain in the ass to listen to. That's why Pelican's eponymous 2003 debut EP was such a wonder — the band avoided either extreme, and delivered a collection of lengthy, dynamic tunes so engrossing not even the most pedestrian heavy-music fan could mourn the absence of vocals. It just didn't need 'em. Their second effort for noted extreme-tuneage indie label Hydra Head, the full-length Australasia (we're talking pure time here — it may be over 50 minutes long, but there are still only six tracks), doesn't quite live up to the potential of its predecessor, but it's still an extremely admirable effort. The band's penchant for stepping outside hard-music lines to incorporate indie-rock and unabashedly anthemic hooks remains their saving grace. There's less of it here, though, and the songs tend toward plodding chunkage a little too often, particularly during the first few cuts. Their ability to construct and shift between convincing moods redeems Australasia, however, and their ability to stretch taut, dark passages almost to the breaking point before bringing the sun from behind the clouds is consistently awe-inspiring. (www.hydrahead.com) 1/2
—SCOTT HARRELL
This article appears in May 27 – Jun 2, 2004.