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Blasts from the Past!
LifeHouse, Pretenders, PlasticEaters, John Mayer, more...
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exclusively by yours truly
Terry Christopher
Take Another Look
Self-Released
2002
by Roxanne Blanford
To be completely honest, I was a little afraid of this disc.
After receiving
Take Another Look in the mail, sent to me by the artist himself, I had made the all-too-common “friendly journalist”
error of engaging in a dialogue with the artist well before I had ever heard one note from the CD.
In our communications,
Terry Christopher came off as a genuinely sincere man with a great sense of humor and a firm grasp of the realities facing
independent recording artists today. Yet – that had absolutely nothing to with his talent (either real or perceived).
So,
when I finally had a moment to give Take Another Look a well considered and professionally objective listen, I was
pleasantly surprised (and vastly relieved!). Relieved, because I would now be able to one day look Terry in the eye (gorgeous
eyes, I must add) and say, without reservation or doubt: “Man, you got something truly good going on here.”
The
very first track, “Going Going Gone” exhibits echoes of Top 40 pop-funk the likes of which has been toyed with
by boy bands from N’Sync to O-Town. Much better, however, is “Same Time Next Year,” a light, romantic song
with some nicely arranged background sonics (including gentle rock guitar, some keys and soft percussion), and “Take
Another Look” where the rhythm soars with confident edge.
“Forked Tongue-She Devil,” a funky, bass-groovin’
little number, and “Freedom Love/Love Freedom” show up Terry Christopher’s affinity for the up-front, definitive
‘rhythm/rhyme’ plan found in essential pop-rock, 70’s funk and especially within country/western lyrical
schemes. While this approach can lead dangerously down the path towards corny, simplistic musical constructions, Michael LaGennusa’s
restrained arranging and deliberate programming adds subtle nuance, turning what could easily be considered trite songwriting
into something sneakily compelling. This skill is clearly seen in the juke-box/honky-tonk vibe of “Bad Boy” where
the guitar and percussion combinations have the power to make you wanna kick up your boots and party hard, despite the nagging
suspicion that you’ve somehow been duped into it.
“And There You Were” and the reverent “Friends
and Heroes” make me think of the kind of heart-felt, lite-rock AOR music that was dominant in the mid-70s. Terry Christopher
has the same elements working in his favor--that of the earnest, unfettered singer/songwriter who, like David Gates and Don
MacLean, pour their hearts into their lyrics. “And There You Were,” though very basic in its statement of the
redeeming value of love, would fit perfectly on the soundtrack of a WB show, like the Gilmore Girls or Everwood. The bridge
is sweeping and invocative of warm smiles. Terry Christopher’s voice is even, mellifluous, inviting and all-comforting.
“And There You Were” turns out to be my favorite on this 10-track disc. I like this one a lot, and that’s
a bold statement coming from a woman who has been known to rock out heavy to bands like Pantera and Godsmack!
While
this debut won’t win any awards for being cutting-edge, nor for going where no pop artist has ever gone before, Take
Another Look is a concise, rhythm-infused, hook-happy assortment of wide-appeal music, delivered just for the sheer joy
of it. So, just enjoy.
Visit Terry Christopher Online !
Lifehouse
Stanley Climbfall
Dreamworks Records
2001
A-
By Roxanne Blanford
When did it become a crime to write catchy, passionate songs?
What’s wrong with infusing music
with fat power chords, thick rhythms and robust textures?
Why is it condemnable to craft songs with
harmonies and choruses so finely constructed they immediately bring to mind some of modern rock’s best and brightest
talents?
And, now that Los Angeles alt rockers, Lifehouse, has done
all that and more on its sophomore release, Stanley Climbfall, is the band now supposed to hang its collective head
in shame for producing yet another recording of readily pleasurable and gripping grandiose rock?
Lifehouse has
been both criticized and hailed for their mainstream compliant/FM-friendly compositions, dating back to 2000 when the chart
topping single “Hanging By A Moment” off the multi-platinum No Name Face debut dominated radio and MTV.
Disparagement has also been tossed their way for sounding like “other” cathartic bands, namely Pearl Jam, Creed and Stone Temple Pilots (with a healthy smattering of U2’s spirituality and spiraling Edge-like riffs). The similarities should
come as no surprise to anyone who knows anything about music: Stanley Climbfall was produced by the prolific Brendan
O’Brien, whose resume’ boasts not only Pearl Jam, Creed and STP, but also Soundgarden, Train and Matthew Sweet.
As well, frontman Jason Wade’s smoky,
deep and emotionally reaching vocals are constantly and unavoidably compared to Eddie Vedder, Scott Stapp and Scott Weiland.
Although this only seems to stir up more criticism, to be held up to the template of those three singers is not such a bad
thing at all.
This new disc establishes the ground rules right away by kicking off with the infectious single
“Spin,” a colossal number fueled by a sneaky Zeppelinesque bridge outro and the same propulsive and hard-edged
pop/rock grooves found in its sonic sister, “Out of Breath.” Both are shot out of the canon with immediate energy
and a fierce celebratory verve. Yet where “Out of Breath” is jubilant and up-turned, “Take Me Away”
is conversely reverent and internalized. Jason Wade sings these songs with genuine ardor, delivered earnestly (think Stapp
joined at the vocal chords with Vedder) and rendered successfully.
Likewise, Wade’s emotive vocalizations,
hooky guitar and combination bass/percussion rhythm imbue each note of “The Sky is Falling,” (a song with subtly-masked
references to 9/11) with a poignant delicacy usually reserved for more venerable bands of rock, such as U2.
Jason
Wade’s flair for passion pop is demonstrated time and time again in songs like the haunting “Stanley Climbfall” and the rapturously sensual “My
Precious.” The singer/songwriter has gone on recording, claiming he wrote most of the songs naturally, letting the songs
‘breathe’ and find their own distinctive Lifehouse sound, while he focused on conveying personal experiences and
beliefs through the music. “The Beginning,” “How Long” (both with meticulous Edge-like guitar flourishes),
“Empty Space” and the powerfully interpreted “Wash” are just a few examples of this ‘sound’-- of vibrant, meaningful
songs where all the riffs, breaks, intros, and outros consistently hit the mark.
Lifehouse has put it all on the
line this time, making a heartfelt and sonically stirring recording that has the music world asking, “are they true
contenders or just pretenders?” Hopefully the merits of the resplendent Stanley Climbfall will outweigh pre-mature
detraction and the California band will be deemed fully deserving of all its initial and subsequent
praise.
The Pretenders
Loose
Screw
Artemis
Records
2002
Reviewed
By Roxanne Blanford
(see
Stylusmagazine.com, archives)
I’ve been a big Pretenders
fan my entire life and, now, with the release of the brand new Loose Screw, my unyielding allegiance has been validated
and my patience in waiting for a new Pretenders recording, gratifyingly rewarded.
“Brass in Pocket”
became my mantra even before I saw Chrissie Hynde saunter along in the video of the same name in that French maid-type waitress
get-up. And for some odd reason, “The Adulteress” just wouldn’t get out my head...possibly had a lot to
do with the way her voice vibrated over the line “.....I didn’t wanna be-e-e-e-e-e-e...” The huge hit single,
“Back on the Chain Gang” was a wonderfully crafted song and a touching tribute to the late, Pretenders’
guitarist James Honeyman-Scott. And even when the reigning Toughest Chick in Rock n Roll became a sentimental mother and penned
the cutesy ode to her daughter, “Show Me”, I remained hooked, and was even all the more hooked on those fierce
guitar licks she plied so well in that song --Hynde’s admitted worship at the altar of Keith Richards definitely paid
off.
And now, after what feels like a very long hiatus, The Pretenders are back with Loose Screw, their
first recorded effort since 1999’s Viva el Amor, and baby, Chrissie is definitely back in grand form!
The
songs are immediately accessible, with a classic rock/modern pop delivery that’s every bit as lively and exciting as
the very first disc this band released. Tightly written and professionally executed, Loose Screw does the trick. Listening
to Chrissie sing in that indelible, identifiable style of the “tough ‘n sexy dame-with ballsy attitude”(which
she has perfected to infinite precision), is like meeting up again with a long missed, old friend and finding that nothing
has really changed at all -- and if there is any hint of difference, it’s all only for the better.
Loose
Screw’s first single, the completely inviting “Complex Person,” toys with light reggae touches and infectious
dub cadences. This track establishes a fresh direction for the 20+ year old band, yet faithfully adheres to the basic elements
that have always made The Pretenders an such an essential band: direct delivery, competent rhythm (thank the powers-that-be
for drummer Martin Chambers!!) and stark, honest expression (“I’m a mixed up, fucked up, singer of a song”).
Chrissie’s vocals are sly, tough and passionate throughout, displaying the kind of cocky mixture of self-deprecation
and personal pride that only she can pull off successfully.
Incidentally, the original intent was to craft an all-reggae
album ( ! ) and while that did not happen, incorporating the contributions of British producer Jonathan Quarmby (of Ziggy
Marley and Finley Quaye fame) provides genuine Caribbean sway and motion, taking some of
the edge off of these otherwise aggressive rock tracks. This is most notable in the emotionally pleading “Nothing Breaks
Like a Heart” and in the heavy bass/dub reverie of “Clean Up Woman.”
Staring off with a slightly
classical/orchestral intro, “I Should Of” swiftly evolves into a deliberately evocative tune of compelling hooks
and driving melodies. In this song, which has a vague groove reminiscent of “Show Me ” Chrissie laments the lost
opportunity of love (“hindsight is tough”, she sings, “Oh, fuck, I really miss you”) with a caught-in-the-throat/choking-sob-regret
presentation that conveys a mature, self-aware acknowledgement of the consequences in making choices.
“Fools
Must Die,” “Time,” “Kinda Nice, I Like It” and the sweeping signature ballad, “The Losing”
are such on-target songs, such songs of definable excellence, it’s as if the band’s many years of existence as
a determining force in music have simply coalesced into one frozen moment in time, and the former priestess of the UK punk
rock scene reigns just as nascent as ever. What’s most remarkable about this, the band’s eighth release overall,
is that it all still works. Everything still registers as musically relevant despite the band’s status as veteran rock
n roll survivors.
My only complaint is the songs are just too short. Either the band was complacent with what
they created, or they just got lazy. At that exact moment when the vibe is totally working and hitting that ultimate peak,
the song is already over. But if the only failing with this long-awaited release is that the songs are so good you regret
the final chord, then, I guess, I can live with it. It’s simply an awesome thing to witness the 52-year old Ms. Hynde
continuing to hold court as the Most Righteous Babe in Rock n Roll (all apologies to Ani DiFranco). To quote Ms. Hynde, this
Loose Screw is “kinda nice, I like it.” I like it a lot!
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Sing-Sing
The Joy of
Sing-Sing
Manifesto
2002
D+
by
Roxanne Blanford
This recording marks the full-length debut of singer/guitarist
Emma Anderson since the demise of her UK space-melody band, Lush. When that band disbanded in the late 90’s (after drummer
Chris Acland’s suicide), Anderson eventually hooked up with vocalist Lisa O’Neill and in short order formed Sing-Sing.
The
Joy of Sing-Sing amounts to a pretty neat way of establishing Anderson’s post-Lush credentials, since it is basically
a joyful experience—that is, if you like your pop music full of sultry/ synth-sensual/swiveling girlish singing.
Anderson lets her voice spin circles around an atmospheric
array of electronica rhythms and groove-resplendent sounds, such as the sprawling, guitar/electro-heavy “Tegan.”
The Joy of Sing-Sing alternately dips into mod rock and new wave, combining drum machines, sampling, backwards guitars,
dance floor bass, and a variety of styles and music genres to achieve some intriguing results.
“You Don’t
Know” mixes melodic singing with Anderson’s signature guitar play, all the while being supported by highly listenable and engaging
synth-strings. “Panda Eyes” is a complete ‘80s rave and “Far Away from Home" employs trumpets and
whimsical singing to enhance its overall sound. "I Can See You" has sweet harmonies and "Émigré" is performed as a waltz out
of the technological future.
The Joy of Sing-Sing is full of easy, flowing melodies, airy grooves, fat
hip-hop beats, delicate keys and intricate lyrical schemes. On the surface it sounds like a mess, but in the competent hands
of producer Mark Van Hoen (Mojave 3), it’s a sensible and seductive presentation. Anderson’s guitar work melds
nicely with the synth-pop components and O'Neill, who has a had a history as vocalist for Mad Professor and Kid Loco, reveals
herself to be amazingly capable of handling the challenge, occasionally joining forces with guest singers Vinny Miller ("Émigré”)
and Departure Lounge’s Tim Keegan (“Keep It That Way").
Sing-Sing released a total of 4 indie singles
in the UK before delivering The Joy of Sing-Sing. Anderson
and O’Neill actually made an impact with those indie singles, the wildly romping “Feels Like Summer” being
the most notable of all. That single is included in this recording, and thusly, The Joy of Sing-Sing stands as a full
testament to the work of these two women who are steadily making a name for themselves on both sides of the Atlantic.
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Plastic Eaters
Giggies and Piggies (Limited Edition EP)
Independently Released
2002
C+
by Roxanne Blanford
The Plastic Eaters,
for the uninformed, are a New York City-based punk rock band (by way of Philadelphia and Great Britain) that blends old school
punk ethos with urbanized industrial touches, the occasional break beat, and (GASP!) actual melody.
Comprised of
multi-talented musicians who have also made substantial contributions in the fields of filmmaking, video and sound production
(singer Robdaly - yes, it’s usually spelled as one word- is an accomplished programmer, sound editor and filmmaker with
several high-profile projects to his credit, and bassist Stan Stammers {of Theater of Hate/Spear of Destiny-fame} has his
hand in music production ranging from hip hop artists Incognegro to Rocket From the Crypt), the Plastic Eaters have been around
since the late 1990s and if this is the first you’re hearing of them, you’d better catch up quick.
Giggies
and Piggies makes for a pretty decent initiation to this band, though it’s only a 3-track recording. If you’re
looking to get an earful of something more fully realized, check out their website (www.plasticeaters.com) and get a hold
of Live At The Uptown. But for the purpose of introduction, this current disc serves well.
My first impression
upon listening was that of an oddly successful blending of Oi and American punk, with commercially viable aspects similar
to a band like the Clash. I’m not sure if I’m on target with that appraisal, but when I hear these tracks, I hear
absolutely nothing that The Ramones, The Business or The Sex Pistols would be ashamed to cover.
Giggies and
Piggies kicks off with the succinct “Nowhere to Go,” a track that jumps immediately out at you with all the
ferocity of an early Johnny Lydon number, replete with rousing choruses and frenetically paced, bass-heavy percussion. With
slightly more rhythm than you would expect, this track manages to combine working class frustrations with genuine sentiment.
You’re compelled to move to the dense beats despite the dead-end lyrics (“it’s 3pm and I’m still
bed...”). And to add to the lure, there are subtle traces of hip-hop sprinkled throughout.
“Bug Away”
comes on with a Ramones-like “hey-ho let’s go” rambunctiousness as singer Robdaly redefines the punk ethic
with a voice that’s all at once raspy and strongly presented. The churning break in this song soars with a precise and
driving rhythm (again, thanks to the combined assault of Stammers’ 4-string, Sean Money’s fretting finesse and
Geoff Verne’s pummeling technique).With more of a hard-edged affront, “Big Ball It” is a colossal, good
time number, full of raw power and emotionally vibrant energy. (And, the hard rocking intro ain’t bad either!) The sing-a-long
chorus (“big ball it -Its all we know/big ball it -and at the show/ big ball it -and later too/big ball it-its what
we do”) is done up with an amazingly infectious zeal for the genre, and therein lies the appeal of this band.
The
Plastic Eaters make music that’s fun and fresh, adding urban beats and hooky riffs to catchy rhythm lines and choruses
that make you wanna jump and shout. This is a completely noisy, stimulating, and joyful sound. The main drawback being that
it’s just way too short. But then again, that’s the beauty: It makes you want more.
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