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THE CORDUROY ROAD
Just One Drop EP
Mule Train
This new release by The Corduroy
Road is refreshing in that it doesn’t
wear any influences blatantly on
its sleeve but successfully blends
old-time, country and folk. It’s also a
deceptively sad record, with tales of
near misses, lovers pleading, resent
ment and seduction. Every track is
masterfully played and more than
competently composed. The recording
is crystal clear, too. So much so that it
could stand a little dirtying.
The clear standout tteckTiere is
“The Wind and Water." No, I don't
simply mean that it stands out from the
rest of the songs on the EP. I mean it
stands out as the best work the band
has done so far. Although played
mostly in a major chord sequence,
you’ll hear minor ones where there
aren't any. The folk-waltz stays true to
both styles by virtue of its tempo and.
lyrics, and it’s the lyrics that are worthy
of the most attention as there are. liter
ally, hundreds of songs written with
similar melodies and tempos.
The words, sung with incredible
but reserved heart, share a mythologi
cal account of the Mountain feeling
jealous of the Wind’s love for the Earth.
The song’s delivery is stunning. The
reservation in the vocals, laced with
desperation, perfectly match the senti
ments of the Mountain—so anxious
to hold on to the thing he loves. It’s a
love song of grand proportions and an
expertly deft use of metaphor.
People love to dumb this music
down. They love to reduce it to
“Americana’ this and that. But, never
you mind. This ain’t "Americana." This
is American. But, even beyond that,
this is human; and that’s about the big
gest compliment! can give.
Gordon Lamb
The Corduroy Rood celebrates
ils EP release at the Melting Point on
Thursday, Apr. 9.
THE K-MACKS
Welcome, Everybody
Independent Release
Locals The K-Macks are capable,
of writing some really powerful folk
songs. Stand out tracks like “Sin
Boldly’ and "Rearranging’ lure the lis
tener in with their candid wisdom; and
I found myself clinging to every word •
from beginning to end. The acoustic
accompaniment is bare and under
stated, as it should be, allowing the
lyrics to take the lead. When vocalists
Kevin Craig and Max Shultz take turns
at the mic, their passionate delivery
calls to mind the rootsy punk of The
Avett Brothers.
Unfortunately, however, the musi
cianship is not always as strong as the
poetry, and The K-Macks’ forays into
alternative rock and ska fall flat. Any
band can inject that bouncy up-stroke
reggae rhythm into their songs, and
The K-Macks’ execution just feels
unnecessary and derivative. I can
appreciate the band’s effort to diversify
its sound, but it feels a bit forced and .
misguided. “Eight Foot Universe" is
especially egregious. The alternative-
style rocker is muted by lo-fi produc
tion, and at four minutes the track feels
about two minutes too long, with nary
a memorable chorus. It’s just frustrat
ing to hear generic funky jam breaks
("Do Engage") on the same record as
infinitely superior country-tinged bal
lads like “Darling, I’ve Been Thinking."
If The K-Macks just stick to what they,
do best right now and trim this record
into a focused EP, they could really
make an impact in the quickly rising
folk-rock scene.
Michelle Gilzenrat
The K-Macks will play the
Caledonia Lounge on Thursday, Apr. 9.
N.A.S.A.
The Spirit of Apollo
ANTI-
Incidentally, I was able to read
Pitchfork Media's scathing review of
The Spirit of Apollo before presenting
my own opinion. Pitchfork's format
awards albums a score between one
and 10, given to one decimal place
(e g.. 6.7—the average in 2003, based
on 5,575 reviews). This album received
a 1.6—the lowest I’ve seen. Yet, the
only reason I got to Pitchfork ms
because I was diggin’ the joint, and I
wanted to send my friends an email
with more info...
Pitchforks reviewer eventually
summarizes the disc as a “cautionary
tale (of) clusterfuck... experiments."
arguing that the album’s 40 guest stars
(they are bigtiames, I promise) get
washed out in the chaos of the project’s
scope and among its “mediocre beats"
that “Prince Paul would’ve trashed."
While I agiee the album runs the risk of
being so streamlined (it was in produc
tion for five years) that it can slip from
one’s focus, I also believe repeated
listens will continue to titillate through
many cycles, as each track stands
strongly on its own while celebrating
the album's overall theme: unified
humanity.
N.A.S.A. stands for “North America
South America," the native continents
of the album’s two (now L.A.-based)
producers. Squeak E. Clean and DJ •
Zegon. And the name is apt: The Spirit
of Apollo sails joyously on sunny
coastal seas for most of its 73 minutes,
effectively merging hip-hop, Brazilian
funk and elements of electropop into a
cohesively grooving package that hap
pens to come with cool interchange
able art. I’m inclined to flip Pitchforks
rating 180 degrees and give this one a
9.1. The rest is up to you.
Tony Floyd
MAH AND KIM
Grand
Fader Label
Unguarded observations filtered
through curious semi-cryptic symbols,
suggestions—and music! Grand is
DIY ethos, punk-rock aesthetics and
endearing amateurish euphony deliv
ered by a Brooklyn-based drum-and-
synth duo you should fearlessly travel
third-wheel with. •
“And in the daylight we could
hitchhike to Maine/1 hope that some
day I'll see without these frames/ And
in the daylight I don’t pick up my
phone/ Cause in the daylight anywhere
feels like home," chants Matt in mul
tiple vocal tracks over Kim's simple,
syncopated beats during "Daylight," the
bouncy (read: danceable) album opener
and closer (reprised as the "Daylight
Outro Remix'). Matt (Johnson) and
Kim (Schifino) don’t simply excel at
salutations and adieus; the bookends
of their sophomore effort are filled with
several worthwhile listens.
You’ll be hard-pressed to find a
more playfully poignant record. It’ll
be even more difficult to refrain from
hopping around in a frantic frenzy
throughout the aptly titled “Don't Slow
Down.’ an homage, it would seem, to
the dashing pace of the place the pair
calls home.
David Eduardo
THESE ARE POWERS
All Aboard Future
Dead Oceans
Despite its electronic construction,
These Are Powers’ second full-length
release is fleshy; it's visceral. Anna
Barie’s repetitive vocals are more a
chant than they are qualified to be
called “singing," but that sort of tune
lessness helps them fit in with this
machine music (see “Life of Birds" for
a particularly shrill cry)—that they’re
created by a person only makes the*
juxtaposition that much more interest- .
ing. and humanizes what might come
across as industrial or impersonal.
It’s not too far off from The Raincoats’
similar brand of abrasive, tone-jarring
vocalizations. New drummer Bill Salas
slides right into the group, no problem;
his beats are as deconstructionist as
they sound—like they're straight from
a construction site.
The New York/Chicago band’s
grimy, spastic cut-and-paste aesthet
ics rest easy over late-’80s, no-wave
cacophonies, and though the results
are harsh, there’s a slight—slight!—
melodic underpinning that keeps
'em accessible. As a follow-up to
last year's middling first full-length
Terrific Seasons, All Aboard Future
is an improvement, but still spends
time working its way through sounds
pioneered years ago by act's like Silver
Apples, DNA, This Heat and Throbbing
Gristle. Confusion Is Sex-eta Sonic
Youth, too, is an obvious touchstone,
an influence that blasts through in the
These Are Powers' carefully unstud
ied, skillful sound. Check the creepy
"Double Double Yolk," or the alluring
"Parallel Shores’ for confirmation.
Pleasant? Not particularly—but sur
prisingly enthralling.
Chris Hassiotis
MORRISSEY
Years of Refusal
Lost Highway
You’d think that people would have
had enough of silly, unrequited love
songs. Apparently for Morrissey that
isn’t so. Oh, no.
He is still alone and brilliantly bit
ter. at turns wallowing melodramatically
and unleashing the usual daggers of
smug-yet-cunning insults.
Thematically, Years of Refusal
feels like a rehashing of old material,
and the anachronously generic rock
guitar on some of the songs is instantly
forgettable—like the backing track in
karaoke. “When I Last Spoke to Caro!"
is perhaps the major exception, the
rapid acoustic rhythms pleasantly
recalling “Big Mouth Strikes Again’
are punctuated by zesty mariachi horns
which are enjoyable even if it's just
pandering to Morrissey’s notoriously
loyal Latino following.
But the pitfalls are easily forgiven
when you hear the utter conviction in
Morrissey’s forever-youthful croon.
Lest we forget, this record was pro
moted with nearly nude press photos of
the man himself, just prior to his 50th
birthday. The only thing that's aged
more gracefully than his svelte phy
sique is his vocal dexterity; his range
reaches new peaks on this record,
soaring to altitudes a youthful Moz
rarely explored.
If you, like me, have always been
partial to the snarky snide of Morrissey,
never fear. You’ll still need plenty of
aloe for all his sweet burns. The epi-
cally deprecating “It’s Not Your Birthday
Anymore" is a panicular highlight.
Likewise, opening track “Something
Is Squeezing My Skull" is quick to put
naysayers in their place, as he point
edly retorts, “I know by know you’d
think I should have straightened myself
out.. .Thank you, drop dead." Good ol'
reliable Morrissey.
Michelle Gilzenrat
14 FLAGPOLE.COM • APRIL 8, 2009