My Audition For Spin, Part 3

I'm finding as I do this that editing, forcing myself to cut words, serves a pretty distinct purpose. Granted, sometimes I lose parts of the review that I thought were really good and worthwhile, but other times I find that the process tightens up my writing and removes things that, upon reflection, I realize weren't that well-written anyway. I will probably continue with the process even when I don't have a specific word limit under which to bring the pieces I'm working on.

Death From Above 1979 – You’re A Woman, I’m A Machine
(Vice Records)

Halfway through a recent Death From Above 1979 gig, someone yelled, “Lightning Bolt!” Drummer/vocalist Sebastien Grainger affected confusion. “Lightning Bolt? Have you even been listening to the songs we’re playing?” Death From Above 1979, a duo composed of Grainger and bassist Jesse F. Keeler, bear no resemblance aside from their minimalist instrumentation to Lightning Bolt, who play jazzy, mostly instrumental noise-punk. These guys are a straight up rock n’ roll band. Other bands of that stripe who’ve removed an instrument from the typical rock setup have removed bass, resulting in a sound reminiscent of the days when transistor radios were state of the art. Death From Above 1979 are uninterested in this throwback impression. What they are doing by removing guitar is focusing concentration on the groove. Grainger’s drumming is pure timekeeping—solid, but with no frills. Keeler’s bass is front and center, impossible to ignore, his note-heavy riffs driving the songs all by themselves.

Their debut EP, Heads Up, was a 6-song blast of raging fury. Keeler’s nimble-fingered riffing crammed a million notes into every song, and Grainger’s drumming pushed them along at a galloping clip. Several of these songs replicate the EP’s fast, furious sound, but the majority of them are slowed down, funked up, and dripping with sexuality. Grainger’s moaning croons and excited yelps accentuate the feverish intensity of mid-tempo workouts like “Little Girl” and “Romantic Rights”. The album even ends with a full on disco-funk jam, “Sexy Results;” it’s unexpected, but it works. This is the sort of album that you can’t listen to without thinking about sex, making it the perfect record to put on when you get that punk rock girl you’ve been chatting up at the bar to come over for a “nightcap.” Don’t miss out—buy it now.

And now, for something a bit different: here's the original text I wrote, cleaned up but without any significant cuts.

Halfway through a 2003 Death From Above 1979 gig in Montreal (a bootleg of which I acquired through debatably legal means), an audience member yells “Lightning Bolt!” Drummer/vocalist Sebastien Grainger responds immediately. “Lightning Bolt?" He affects confusion. “Have you even been listening to the songs we’re playing?” While the audience member’s reaction is somewhat understandable, Grainger’s frustration is far moreso. Death From Above 1979 are a duo composed of Grainger and bassist Jesse F. Keeler, but aside from their minimalist instrumentation, they bear no resemblance to Lightning Bolt, who are purveyors of some of the harshest noise the current musical landscape has to offer. Death From Above 1979, on the other hand, deal in straight up rock n’ roll.

Other rock n’ roll bands currently at work in the indie scene who’ve chosen to remove an instrument from the typical rock setup, such as The Black Keys and The Coachwhips (to say nothing of those red and white-clad pseudo-siblings from Detroit), have removed bass, usually resulting in a sound reminiscent of the days when pocket transistor radios were state of the art listening devices. Death From Above 1979 are completely uninterested in creating this throwback impression in their own music. What they are doing by removing guitar is focusing concentration on the groove. Grainger’s drumming is pure timekeeping—solid, but with no frills, allowing him to concentrate on vocals. They occasionally add rudimentary synth notes for emphasis, but for the most part, Keeler is front and center, impossible to ignore, his note-heavy bass riffs driving the songs all by themselves. He is more than equal to the task.

Their debut EP, Heads Up (under the name Death From Above—the 1979 was grudgingly added at the insistence of in-vogue New York production team The DFA), was a 6-song blast of raging fury. The only factor that really separated them at that point from the noise-punk scene was Grainger’s vocals; he disdains screaming in favor of lascivious vocals that evokes a baritone version of Jerry Lee Lewis or Little Richard. Keeler’s nimble fingered riffing crammed what sounded like a million notes into every song, and Grainger’s drumming pushed the whole thing along at a galloping clip. Fans of Heads Up will find much to favor on You’re A Woman, I’m A Machine—in particular, “Turn It Out”, “Go Home, Get Down”, “Cold War”, and “Pull Out” replicate the EP’s fast, furious sound. However, Death From Above 1979 use the extended length they’ve been given to do some branching out and work with new sounds. Their emphasis here tends to be on the classic meaning of the phrase “rock n’ roll”—a lot of these songs are dripping with overt sexuality. Grainger’s vocals make more sense in this context, his moaning croons and excited yelps only accentuating the feverish intensity of mid-tempo workouts “Little Girl,” “Romantic Rights”, and “Black History Month.” In fact, the album ends with a full on disco-funk jam, “Sexy Results,” which is twice the length and half the speed of anything else here, and yet fits perfectly with the rest of the songs.

You’re a Woman, I’m A Machine is heavy and powerful, but it’s also the sort of album that you can’t listen to without thinking about sex—making it the perfect record to put on when you get that punk rock girl you’ve been chatting up at the bar to come over for a nightcap. Death From Above 1979 are devoted to becoming masters of the groove, and all for the purpose of helping you get laid. The least you could do to repay them would be to buy this album now.

My Audition For Spin, Part 2

This one got down under 300 words. I also think it reads a lot better. I'm kinda getting the hang of this. Maybe I'll go back and tinker with the Converge review some more after this whole experiment is finished.

The Mars Volta - "Frances The Mute"
(Universal Music)

Art-rock experimentation may not inevitably lead to arena-rock bloat, but on “Frances The Mute”, The Mars Volta are treading on thin ice. Musically, their abilities have grown: “L’Via L’Viaquez” combines the powerful post-hardcore riffs on which they built their reputation with quiet Latin breakdowns, while “The Widow” and “Miranda That Ghost Just Isn’t Holy Anymore” are both radio-ready ballads that retain a sharp edge and stand above typical examples of modern rock melodrama. However, by placing several minutes of irritating noise between each song, they disrupt the quality of the album as a whole. The fault here is in the particular set of ambient noises used–rather than creating a mood, they just grate on the listener’s nerves and go on for far too long.

That same criticism could be leveled against “Frances the Mute” as a whole. The album’s 5 songs stretch out over 76 minutes, and the final track, “Cassandra Gemini”, accounts for 32 of those minutes all by itself. It’s not a bad song–it has a rousing chorus, and incorporates both horns and a string section into a dramatic buildup that peaks around minute 15. If it had ended right there, it’d be perfect. Instead, they back down from this crescendo and engage in another quarter-hour of directionless jamming. We get pseudo-Coltrane sax blowing over rhythm section vamps, we get extended Hendrix-inspired soloing, but mostly we just get bored. The members of The Mars Volta may have extensive backgrounds in hardcore, but they seem to have forgotten how it was this exact sort of self-indulgence that punk rock started as a backlash against. In the end, their inability to rein themselves in, to concentrate on songs and not meandering jams, cripples “Frances the Mute”. File under “nowhere near as good as it should’ve been.”

My Audition For Spin, Part 1

I've never submitted any writing to be considered for publishing, ever. However, lately I've been feeling like I should go ahead and get started with that sort of thing before any more of my life slips by with me still working in retail. Therefore, I've decided to work up a few sample reviews and send them in to Spin magazine, in hopes that they will start paying me to review records. It's probably going to result in nothing more than my first rejection slip, but at least I'll have done something. This is the first of four sample reviews that I'm planning on writing, to be followed in the near future by reviews of The Mars Volta's "Francis The Mute", Tanya Donelly's "Whiskey Tango Ghosts," and something else I haven't yet decided on. They're supposed to be 300 words, but try as I might I was unable to get this one below 375. Maybe I should edit a little more, but there's nothing in it that I could cut without feeling like I'm hurting the piece as a whole. Hopefully, I'll do better on the other three.

Converge - "You Fail Me" (Epitaph Records)

After 2001’s magnum opus “Jane Doe”, it was hard to imagine what direction Converge could have left to take their music. They’d already made four full-length albums in a genre—metalcore—where most bands break up after one or two. There were mutterings in the underground that they’d lost their relevance, been superseded by the next generation of up and coming bands. However,with the release of “You Fail Me”, their first album of new material in three years, they’ve effortlessly reasserted their dominance of the genre and shown that they still have plenty of new places to take their sound.

The album is bookended with “Last Light” and “Hanging Moon”, two mid-paced rockers that aren’t as heavy as the typical Converge offering. Vocalist Jacob Bannon trades in his high-pitched scream for a sort of half-sing half-yell, and the guitars rely on ringing chords instead of the galloping distortion we’ve come to expect. It still works, though—on “Last Light”, Ben Koller’s intense drumming propels the song towards a crescendo that it never quite reaches. By the time the song ends, the tension is at an almost unbearable level. It is released over the course of the next four songs, all of which are much more typical of Converge’s grinding metal attack. “Black Cloud” is a highlight here, with its sing-along mosh chorus, sure to generate dogpiles at upcoming live shows.

Things open up a bit in the latter half of the album: the title track slows things down in order to further explore the epic structures first used on “Jane Doe”, while “In Her Shadow” goes even farther out on a limb by being almost entirely acoustic. However, it’s nowhere near a ballad; its dark sound simultaneously channels Neurosis and Nick Cave, creating a heaviness of mood even without heaviness of instrumentation.

Inevitably, there will be those who complain that “You Fail Me” is a lesser album than its predecessor. However, while it may not be as epic as “Jane Doe,” it is the work of a band who continue to push the boundaries of their sound in all directions. Converge succeed admirably at this goal, and “You Fail Me” is every bit as outstanding as any other album they’ve released.