Sound escapes
New: Meat Depressed, Lovetrain, and more
by Bob Gulla
The woodwork serves as a curious place to hide, but that's where it
seems like a lot of local bands come from these days. All of a sudden, without
a word, a record comes forth from a group, dropped from the skies, unheralded,
unexpected, and, largely, underrated. Why do these bands hide? Is it because
they can't get gigs and/or other exposure? Or does it go deeper than that? Is
playing in a band today humiliating? Is it one of those ignominious pastimes
where people who do it don't like to talk about it? Like plumbing? Like
undertaking? I never thought so. It used to be that playing in a rock band was
a badge of honor, something to wear with pride, like a boss new haircut. Then
again, with today's sorry state of pop music -- and teeny boppers and canine
rockers like Limp Bizkit giving commercial music a pathetic name -- maybe it
isn't such a proud vocation. Still, there are the records. And aliases always
come in handy. Come to think of it, the woodwork isn't such a bad place to come
from.
Pretty Boy Floyd (demo)
Mike Dinallo had a pretty good thing going with his last band the Radio Kings,
with a good, rootsy rock record on Rounder and lots of touring opportunities.
But it apparently wasn't quite good enough to hang with, as he broke that band
up for good last year. In its stead, guitarist Dinallo -- who also plays in
Barrence Whitfield's band -- has teamed with singer-songwriter Tim Gearan in
Pretty Boy Floyd, a more decidedly rural album with elements of real country
and smoky blues.
Recorded up in Boston at Room 9 From Outer Pace by Sean Carberry and produced
by Carberry and Dinallo, the record grinds out some sweet, mid- to slow-tempo
homespun roots, country and blues. Among some cool original numbers like the
swooning instrumental "Bluebonnet Lullaby" and the rollicking opener "Misery
Train," there are a couple of nifty, well-chosen covers: the Sam Collins
classic "Lonesome Road Blues" and the old-time standard "In the Pines." Former
members of the Radio Kings help out, including John Packer (acoustic bass), Lou
Ulrich (bass), and Marty Richards (drums) and their experience punches these
songs up admirably.
The production is organic and satisfying, with nary a trick in sight -- just
good playing, good singing, good arranging, and some excellent songwriting. Who
knows what the future will hold for Pretty Boy Floyd? Hopefully, a deal is in
the offing. It helps that they've already gotten off to a great start with this
demo.
Lovetrain: Almost Home (Burning Bright Records)
From the first few acoustic guitar chords on Lovetrain's new record, you get
the feeling you're in for a pretty exhilarating ride. Led by songwriter Dan
Lilley, the band travels through a smart set of melodic working-man music,
falling somewhere between the wise-guy pop of Marshall Crenshaw, the Jersey
sounds of the Boss and Southside Johnny (without the Jukes), and the roots-rock
sound of the Cracker clan. Lilley's a heartfelt songwriter with the ability to
communicate stories clearly and concisely without resorting to uncomfortable
turns of phrase, especially on the sweet "Lovers of the Past" and the telling
"Separate Ways."
As an ensemble the group plays with fluency and taste. Lilley never overdoes
his vocal tracks, letting his simply expressed lyrics do most of the talking.
Mike Sullivan's guitar playing is also sophisticated and tasteful, never
overreaching, rarely calling attention to itself. Production-wise, the record
loses something on the high-end, cutting off Phil Hicks' cymbals and Sullivan's
piercing licks. But then, when you've got songs with this kind of quality,
sound becomes secondary to sentiment. And the music simply speaks for itself.
Lovetrain's record release party is on Friday, April 7 at the Century
Lounge.
Soulshed (self-released)
Holy f**king smokes! Living Room mainstays Soulshed move mountains with this
massive slab of angular metal and extreme dissonance. Spearheaded by the
astounding -- yeah, astounding! -- vocals of singer Rick Massa, the record
lurches toward a sonic apocalypse, characterized by fire-breathing power
chords, poison sentiment, and left-field song structures. Dan deMelo and Josh
Floriano kick up a nasty racket on their guitars, but, thankfully, they don't
execute everything in dropped D like so many of today's metal magnates. Check
out the off-kilter figures in "In My Head" to see what I mean. The rhythm
section of Manny Pires and Nelson deMelo hang tough, with profoundly potent
teamwork, especially on tunes like "Anthem" and "Death Becomes You."
But the real star of this record is singer Massa, who rips through every song
on this ten-cut set like a maniacal impersonator, someone who can change his
voice depending on the song and who's listening. On "Rapist" he sounds like
Ozzy Osbourne, Jello Biafra, and Slayer's Tom Araya, sometimes in the same
sentence. Massa's voice can bend into a seemingly infinite variety of styles,
from rapping and screaming to black metal belching and angelic singing. It's a
freak of nature, truly, but it keeps this record consistently compelling, if
only to hear where the hell Massa is headed next. A fine, abrasive effort, in
all, and exactly the kind of disreputable music that should make their hometown
of Swansea proud.
Meat Depressed: Deface the Nation (Good Cop/ Bad Cop)
Remember how you felt when you spun your first Buzzcocks record, or your
first Stiff Little Fingers disc? The guys in Foxboro's Meat Depressed do, and
they let us know they've never forgotten that punk-rock high with a set full of
blitzkrieg bop. It's high-energy stuff capably performed, with enough sizzle,
universal sentiment, and crankin' punk guitar to keep the disc in the player
longer enough to singalong to.
Though there are no surprises here and the very concept of making a 1978 punk
rock record 22 years later is actually kind of funny, Deface the Nation
blasts through its material as if the band itself discovered the genre. Big-ass
songs like "Get Away" and the maddeningly catchy `I Can't Hear You," which has
one of the great build-up chorus pay-offs in recent memory, really do the
trick. You gotta hear it.
For the most part, too, the tunes are terse and to the point. Classic titles
like "Armed Farces," "Suicide Is Painless," and "It's Time to Fuck!" breeze by,
well, painlessly, instigating, poking fun at, or riling up its numerous targets
along the way. So what if they're stuck in the '70s? Meat Depressed -- Peter
Walsh, Vic Leemon, Bob Kadlec and John Stone -- like it there. After all, there
was a lot to complain about.
WANDERING EYE. Lots of cool stuff going on at the Green Room these days.
On Saturday the 8th, you'll find the Sheila Divine packing a wallop, and
get this: there's no cover. Head on down. Beer's on me.
Jeffrey Underhill, guitarist extraordinaire of Honeybunch, is happy to
report his band has a rare local gig on Thursday, April 13 with Lois and Mark
Robinson at the Met Cafe. It's a P Squared Production, of course.
Just so you know, there's a March Against Racism and Police Brutality
on Saturday, April 8 at noon. Meet at the Broad Street entrance to Roger
Williams Park. The march, marking the 23rd anniversary of the assignation of
Dr. Martin Luther, is organized by the Coalition for Justice and Community
Reconciliation. Take a stand, eh?