Posts Tagged ‘In The Red’

CFM – “Rise And Fall”

2017 appears to be the year when the members that have made Ty Segall’s backing bands so potent get their own shared glow of the spotlight, and deservedly so. With Meatbodies heading up the glam-psych concept album and The Cairo Gang shined into pop prettiness, it’s left to Charles Moothart to lift the garage baton high and get into some dirty riffs. The first taste of the band’s upcoming LP on In The Red is the tar-thick garage-pscyh stickiness of “Rise and Fall.” The recording here, like Moothart’s compatriots in Meatbodies, takes a notch up from the shredded psych salad he’s released in the past. He has West Coast studio wizard Eric Bauer and old pal Segall to thank for that, as the pair get down on recording and mixing duties. There’s an air of Motorhead’s laryngitis howl, a thatch of Sabbath via Satori riffs and a cloud of smoke so thick that the band can cut their dry ice budget in half. Couldn’t be happier to see all these solo runs adding up to a year of heavy gems.




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Meatbodies

So just to get it out of the way, yeah it’s obvious that Chad Ubovich, Charles Mootheart, Ty Segall and Cory Hanson have at one time or another borrowed from each other’s record collections. There are a lot of the same influences at work here, and while the lazy review could write Meatbodies off as just a carbon copy of any of the others, Ubovich has built an impressive tower of psychedelic pop in his own right on Alice. What he’s really excelled at is finding a way to seamlessly intertwine the best hallmarks of any ’70s guitar freak’s record shelf. There’s the Bolan warble bumping into Syd Barrett’s own tremolo madness, neither affectation overtaking the other completely in a dance of madness. The band builds matchstick temples to Sabbath and burn them down with the glee of bubblegum glam. They know that Bowie and The Sweet both wanted to make you bop and treat them on equal footing, no hero hierarchy here, egalitarian aesthetics copped to the core.

In an age when it’s possible to completely saturate yourself in an almost overwhelming amount of musical output, it’s impressive to see someone take his obsessions and lacquer them together into a monster of an album that doesn’t whiplash between styles like a giddy kid in a candy store. Stacking LEGO® pulled from your best bins can muddle more than it can shine, but the band builds a solid psych foundation that keeps me coming back time and again for another dose of cotton thick clouds of fuzz. Ubovich, along with West Coast studio backbone Eric Bauer shellac this sucker into its shiny fanged form. They indulge (heavily) in the effects of their forefathers, but let them color strategically out of the lines in hypnotic shapes rather than make a splotchy mess.

There’s an overarching theme here of “war, sex, politics and religion,” but to be fair that covers a lot of ground and while the lyrics stick Alice together some, it’s more of an album about feel and tone, time and space. It’s the past skinned, sliced, packaged and shuffled into an order that feels natural. It’s the countless hours of a music junkie made material and fed through a Big Muff for good measure. If that’s not enough for you, then door’s on the right, be sure to hit the black light your way out and let the rest of us fuzz out grinnin.’



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The Intended

Still mopping up the great untouched leftovers from 2016. It was a crowded field, but that’s no excuse for leaving a good one on the table. The Intended was born out of members from Tyvek and fellow Detroiters Odd Clouds, simmering over years of practice space knockarounds and well-intentioned promises. Captured to four track in a basement space, the record is raw, like a nerve exposed and picked at til its sore. Long past lo-fi’s swan song the band aren’t looking to create an aesthetic, merely finding a means to an end and the end is a record that’s wielding noise cradled garage like perfectly muddied sketchbook rendering. The songs aren’t polished, but they’d be neutered if they were.

The power in The Intended’s arsenal is their dirty, sweat stained charm. The band are pulling this record off like a recovered demo session from the best of the Nuggets generation. Like a Remains session, a Nazz demo or John’s Children practice room cut, they’re finding the nerve of garage as it’s rarely still presented. Sure, there’s a scuzzed up sensibility to many garage bands, but they still don’t feel like you were maybe a fly on the wall for the best take. That’s where Time Will Tell finds its strenth. Each one feels like the band let the listener in on their unguarded moments and everyone won in the process.

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Meatbodies – “Creature Feature”

Good to hear Meatbodies jumping back in the saddle for a new LP as 2017 crests over the horizon. The first taste of Alice is a cleaner fit for the band than their eponymous 2014 LP, baking off a bit of the fuzz for a poppier sound. That’s not to say that they’ve completely shucked the garage ethos though, the track is still rooted in a frantic groove and knotted with plenty of guitar bursts that melt away the top layer of epidermis. Underneath its much more structured than their slash and bop past, knocking out some piano jams and glamming up the sound to a full 10 foot tall wall of crunch that seems to fit them well. Apparently “Creature Feature” fits into an overall loose concept in the album, but high-minded or no, its simply a sugar shock blast of fun on its own. Can’t wait for the rest.

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Danny & the Darleans

So without every recording another note, Daniel Kroha is already in the pantheon of rock heroes for his membership in The Gories. The long running Detroit scrappers have gold status in pretty much any garage lover’s book. But Kroha’s never leaned on that membership as a way to coast, he’s cut ragged acoustic blues under his own name, teaming up with Third Man for an album, explored glam pop with the Demolition Doll Rods and gotten scuzzy in his own right time and again with the Darleans. The last Darleans album came down the pike in 2013 and Bug Out follows pretty much in its shoes. Its ruffled and ragged party rock that’s dirty, sweaty and flecked with the right kind of smirk to keep people moving and having a good damn time. Add in Kroha’s natural soul that funnels the ethos of The Troggs, early Shadows of Knight, Motown’s rockers and that other garage demon with a smile, Mr. King Khan, and its shaping up to be a damn fine party in here.

Kroha stacks the Darleans with talent that can’t help but swing, drummer Richie Wohlfeil was in The Detroit Cobras, probably one of the finest garage bands to ever hit the stage. Bassist Colleen Burke cut her teeth in We Ragazzi, and though they may have had a more serious bent, they gave her the chops to wail on Bug Out. There’s little room to really make garage rock new, or to break the mold. What’s left these days is the way to perfect the form you’re fighting in and in that regard, Danny & the Darleans are knocking out most who step to them. They’re tight as hell, and to prove it this sucker was recorded pretty much live to tape, giving very little mystery as to what these songs might sound like up on the stage, you’re living it every time the needle hits the wax. Its a hard trick to pull, but when it goes right, this is what it sounds like.

When it comes down to it, The Darleans know that a great garage band can tackle covers as handily as they can simmer an original, and both should mix seamlessly, giving the listener little pause when a cover hits the speakers. If they make ’em their own, then who cares who wrote it, its theirs now. The Darleans pack heat into songs by The Night Crawlers, bluesman Jim Jackson and Eddie Holland while making them seem as much a part of their DNA as any of their own cuts. The album shapes up to as solid a garage album as you can hope for. It never flags, never begs forgiveness and never seems to care – and that’s what any garage band should aspire to. Kroha’s a human jukebox, serving up singles that cook the whole record through. Bug Out is the kind of record that lights up any room it hits.




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GØGGS

In hindsight there’s no shortage of “supergroups” that Ty Segall’s been involved in. The current version of the Muggers is stacked so high with garage talent that its a wonder there’s any brevity to Emotional Mugger. At the time of it’s release, a collaborative record with Tim Presley from White Fence wasn’t marked by the same stigma it would be now, given both artists’ elevated status, and same could be said for his freakout fuzz platter with Mikal Cronin. Suffice it to say that most of the people that the man gathers around himself could be considered for supergroup status and Fuzz is pretty much in the same category now anyhow. However, GØGGS is the first to really get the flag hoisted high over its head and one that lives up to the expectations that sticker supports. Its the hardest sound yet from a Segall orbiting body and that’s largely because while Ty is in the ring, its Ex-Cult’s Chris Shaw who provides the driving force and evil-eyed core of the band’s sound.

Fans of Ex-Cult have plenty to chew on here but for my money GØGGS is the pure distillation of where Shaw was headed with that band. Thicker, grimier and flecked with freaked out forms that may have spilled over from Moothart and Segall’s work together earlier this year; GØGGS is a testament to shaking up your lineup from time to time and finding the friends who know how to kick out the shaggiest shit from your dirtbag soul. There’s no fear in GØGGS, its a howler monkey pinned to corner and eager to bring the fight. In a year that’s been packed with garage greats, this one’s the biggest trash can fire of the bunch; raging out of control, jagged and dangerous. Its peak Ty, peak Shaw and peak Mootheart. If Emotional Mugger is the punch to the throat of 2016, then this is the finishing kick.



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CFM

Its a little hard to divorce Charles Mootheart’s work from that of his longtime collaborator and often bandmate Ty Segall. There are a lot of the same influences, styles and obsessions at work in both men’s work and such close collaboration naturally brings up a few comparisons. CFM’s sound seems to be springing from a well of garage, psych and thick billows of 70’s glam stomped classic rock fodder. So yeah, check boxes all around as far as crossover appeal, but if the guitar strap fits, fuck it. The sound’s thick cut and meaty and it’s sometimes hard to believe that this was laid down on 1/4 inch tape, it feels like a much bigger studio record and it’s impressive what Mootheart’s done left to his own devices.

Though he’s been a member of Epsilons, Fuzz, The Moonhearts and Ty’s band for some years, there hasn’t really been a front and center avenue for Mootheart’s work until this solo LP. He’s definitely playing in the same leagues as Chad Ubovich, Kyle Thomas and the rest of the crew of pop miscreants that orbit the L.A. hub of creation that’s now making up the bulk of weirdo garage-psych these days. Its not a broken mold that’s at play here but Mootheart knows what to do with the form he’s working in and the record’s got some pretty shiny moments amongst its crust of amplifier fuzz.




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The Intelligence

Lars Finberg kicks out another release under The Intelligence umbrella, and suddenly it does seem like a while since his bracing brand of garage-punk hit the speakers. Three years to be exact, but the interim is washed away under the cutting sneers of The Intelligence’s caustic lyricism and skin crawling, panic laced guitar. Vintage Future may look like a dub session blowback from the cover art but inside the grooves its full bore Finberg, shaky and greased with the kind of nocturnal jitters he’s been adept at wrangling. And that’s not to say that in all that evil sway there aren’t some hooks, there are more than a few that clasp onto your brain and hold for dear life and in tow a few flashes of fang that produce some of their most gnarled and ravaged material yet. Finberg even throws in a few lighter moments but it always seems to return to the barbed attack that makes this one stick.

Listen:


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