Once again, it's time for our quarterly look at a few of the homegrown releases that have crossed the Music Editor's desk over the past three months or so. Dig in, and remember, if something sounds like it might be up your alley, by all means, go find it. Now.
Mind Machine
Full-Length Demo
Veteran Sarasota fivesome Mind Machine offers up a seriously well-produced collection of pounders: seven tunes, and one "radio edit" each of what are ostensibly the two tunes going for radio adds. The first three tracks offer little more than generic moody, angst-laden metal-lite, albeit executed tightly and with conviction. Both the intrigue and listenability factors ratchet up a notch with the upbeat, anthemic "Imminent," however. They spike again for the familiar but here nicely done all-out-blast/quiet-groove dynamic of "Poetry for Mad Men" — featuring a great Kirk Hammett-influenced lead — and the dreamy, off-kilter and vaguely Pearl Jam-esque "Heal." Here, Mind Machine are at their best when they stretch their legs and wander away from plodding heavy-rock banality, but despite their obvious talents, it doesn't happen enough over the course of this group of tunes to transcend mediocrity. (www.mindmachine.net)
1/2SEBOSToken VesselThis is what the Butthole Surfers might've sounded like had they formed in Dade City and matched their LSD intake with copious amounts of quaaludes. Spring Hill one-man band David J. Patterson has concocted a disconcerting yet captivating sound in the guise of SEBOS, industrial-tinged and menacing but simultaneously organic and endlessly surprising. The programmed drums can become a bit of a drag after a while, and Patterson's vocal shape-shifting is definitely a love-it-or-hate-it proposition. The disc overcomes monotony by wildly mixing styles, however, and standouts like the somewhat danceable "What You Said" and "It's Not My Scene," the twangified "Earn the Fade" and the, um, compellingly odd "Rolling Church of Paranoia" inspire repeated listens. Fans of the Ipecac Records catalog, take note. (sebosmusic@aol.com)
Life of Pi
Sunrise with Seamonsters
This new Bay area outfit displays a rather narrow avenue of fuzzed-out pop-rock expression. Further, they wear their influences on their collective sleeve. It's lucky for them, then, that they're nothing short of excellent at what they do. It would be extremely easy to write off Life of Pi as a Weezer clone; all you have to do is overlook the less obvious inspiration of a few other hip inspirations (The Pixies, The Vaselines, Sloan), and the fact that Sunrise with Seamonsters is actually better than anything The Big W has released since Pinkerton. Yes, the fuzz is nearly identical, and yes, they tend to rely on the old, waltzy 1-2-3, 1-2-3 beat a little more than is prudent. But these 13 raw but sweet, familiar but fresh, ironic but sincere tracks comprise one hell of an accomplished and addictive debut. (www.lifeofpiband.com)
Crippled Masters
The Wreck of the Crippled Masters
Crippled Masters are a St. Pete garage-rock trio whose live show never disappoints, but whose first full-fledged LP occasionally does. This is nasty old-school distorted rock 'n' roll that fares best when it keeps pop hooks and brief, humorous blasts in mind ("Helper Monkey," "Somehow I Turned Out Wrong," "Manchowder"). The disc occasionally overextends itself for the sake of moody Doors-esque fuzz 'n' roll — the surfy "Down That Road" and unnecessary instrumental "Supper's Ready" are prime examples. The pervasive sense of knowing and caring more about the Nuggets compilations than whoever came from Detroit or Sweden most recently, however, is both refreshingly new and refreshingly dated. Inside-joke samples aside, the trio plies solid, workmanlike and un-hip rock that, more often than not, scores without the dubious benefits of skinny ties and $75 haircuts designed to look like the barber paid the client for the privilege of screwing his head all up.
Hell on Earth
All Things Disturbingly Sassy
The Bay area's own resident Goth/metal/industrial stalwarts put on some of the most entertaining deviant-culture spectacles this side of New Orleans' Vampire District. Now, having said that, the conglomerate's latest opus, All Things Disturbingly Sassy, is something of a sub-par listen. Here, the group takes the most anonymous, watered-down aspects of movement-defining outfits, and works them well beyond the attention-span threshold of both the average listener and the diehard fan. In the case of the former, the crushing industrial beats, tortured processed vocals and simple, repetitive riffs will work for a while, but certainly not over the length of an album; in the case of the latter, there's none of the innovation or true dirty-acid danger present. This disc is neither groundbreaking nor truly malevolent; it simply rehashes the lowest-common-denominator elements of its influences ad nauseum. Their live circuses of exorcised repression aren't to be missed. This disc, however, amounts to little more than a repetitive, caricatured rehash of the Wax Trax Nation's least inventive trademarks. There's a reason lots of people go see the Impotent Sea Snakes, but almost nobody buys their records. (www.hellonearth.net) 1/2
Eumenides
Eumenides
Holy shit. Bassist Gabe Lowenberg (Americar Underworld, Suspended) passed me this disc at The Washdown's recent New World Brewery show, and to be honest, I feared songless, overly arty bullshit. Instead, I was treated to perhaps the most deftly balanced combination of indie-rock aesthetic, iconoclastic lyrics and insurgent country-esque reverence for traditional song structure I've ever heard from a West Central Florida outfit. This new outfit puts familiar parts together to create a whole that's impossible to describe aptly, so I'll lapse into Jeff Goldblum-style staccato free association (you'll have to envision the manic hand gestures for yourself): "Guitars. Uh … twang, but balls. Familiar, uh, but so new, Spartan and casual yet epic. Er, warm, clever, funny and honest without being, uh, clever. (Big smile and, finally, mirthful, meaningful giant-eye contact.) I guess I'd call it fresh and melodic but, uh, at the same time, well … there you go." What else is there? It sounds like a lot of stuff, yet completely original, and the rough-hewn production fits perfectly. Hunt and haunt this band relentlessly, and expect gargantuan things. Wow. 1/2
Lo
Traces
There's nothing screamingly original about Lo's jagged, melodic metal. They do manage to imbue their particular take on the style with a weighty sense of drama and atmosphere, however, raising their whole somewhat above the sum of its parts. Interesting intros, outros and clean-guitar breaks pepper these seven tracks, nicely breaking up tight, mammoth down-tuned riffs that alternate between clever and clichéd. Sure, the quiet-to-crushing formula has been done to death, but Lo seems honestly interested in searching out fresh textures and passages, and definitely deserves an E for effort on that front. Midpoint tunes "Dead End" and "Track" best combine the band's various talents. There is absolutely no reason this material shouldn't be on modern-rock radio; it's actually far better than most of the dreck clogging the airwaves. And while that's not really saying a whole lot these days, this might be: Even a listener as biased against contemporary commercial heavy music as I am can find something here to like. (www.loband.com) 1/2
Truly Sunday
3-Song Demo
Emorific new Pinellas four-piece Truly Sunday has been making some serious noise amidst the local scene's new generation over the past several months, and this brief introduction shows why. Melodic and catchy but still quite muscular, these tunes mine posthardcore's mix of hook and introspection without resorting to journal-entry whining or histrionic pop-screamo catharsis. They've got great taste in influences, too; the specter of energetic, more-rock-than-emo Orlando act My Hotel Year looms large throughout. On the nit-picky side, the production could've used some work — the guitar tones are muddy and awash in midrange, detracting a bit from the total impact. But the songs are fairly strong, the melodies are there, and Truly Sunday manages to avoid that post-core virus that makes so many bands sound exactly like 10 more well-known bands jamming together in one room. This one's solid and effective, if not overwhelmingly daring. (www.trulysunday.com) 1/2
Dead Dark Slide
Dead Dark Slide
Some of the same local upstarts who brought you the industrial Diet of Worms and Old Wave-inflected Spaceking now deliver Dead Dark Slide, a project that incorporates elements of both. It's a little more hit-and-miss than previous endeavors, but still provides some interesting surprises and a couple of top-notch tunes. "Grim" could've played in the background during that scene in every John Hughes movie when it seems that true love might be unattainable (even though we know those two will hook up in the end). The Gothic string intro and breaks in "Sax & Violins" crop up unexpectedly, pleasing the ear, even though the track's heavy moments tend to drag. "Rape" evinces a nice Sisters of Mercy feel, while the drawn-out noise-collage of "GothicNEWStarwars" intrigues and "Gothicgirl" waxes dreamily. Unfortunately, the rest of the disc comes off as either plodding or engaging in ill-advised musical ideas. "Fish Bowl" typifies the more industrial-tinged tunes' tendencies toward monotony, and "Tree" blends sub-par recording sounds and performances. On the whole, this disc comes off as just a tad on the disappointing side, but there's still a number of worthy listens contained within.
CorrectionIn last week's Music column, a principal of Bay area-based label Peephole Records was referred to as Heidi Peel; her legal name is actually Heidi Shaffer.
Music Critic Scott Harrell can be reached at 813-248-8888 ext. 109, or at scott.harrell@weeklyplanet.com.
This article appears in Sep 18-24, 2003.