High Bias aural fixations
July 7, 2002

THE CURSE OF BLEFUSCU
The Island of "Terra Immobilis"
(Pecan Crazy/Punjab Trough; PO Box 434, San Marcos, TX 78667; atticted@yahoo.com)
The Curse of Blefuscu is a group of respected Austin musicians who come together at far-too-infrequent intervals to create music outside their normal spheres of influence. The collective's previous, self-titled album and its live shows put an emphasis on improvisation, but here the music sounds more structured and composed. Which fits the theme, as this album is allegedly the score to The Island of "Terra Immobilis," a never-completed animated film by obscure Czech director Vichislav Aslo (whose credits mysteriously don't appear in the Internet Movie Database). Who knows what the plot is, but from the haunted soundscapes presented here with titles like "Black Barnacles," "Aghora Death" and "Anti-Life Equation" (hmm, might Jack Kirby's Fourth World be an inspiration?), it's obvious furtive glances and a lot of fog are involved. Things take a slightly happier turn in the quirky "The Yuaca Toad," which centers its arrangements around Keith Palumbo's off-kilter percussion and Bill Jeffrey's processed trumpet. The aforementioned "Aghora Death" actually has an enchanting lilt to it, not to mention sampled birdsong—the love theme from "Terra Immobilis"? There's obviously a hipster sense of humor behind the whole thing (just check out Jeffrey's Jim Woodringesque artwork), but at the same time the composition and layout of the tunes themselves indicates that the players take the music itself seriously. Very nicely done. Michael Toland

For fans of: Shinjuku Thief, Gary Lucas' soundtrack to The Golem, Nathaniel Ashley

DEATH OF MARAT
All Eyes Open
(Stickfigure)
Now this is a power trio. Phoenix's Death of Marat may not be slamming out the power chords or pounding the crap out of 4/4 rhythms, but guitarist Mike Juliano, bassist John Brandon and drummer Jef Wright generate plenty of intensity with few tools on their second album All Eyes Open. Juliano's harsh, angular riffs (this is a guy who knows his Gang of Four records) wrestle with Brandon's busy four-string plucking, building a pockmarked wall of sound carefully crafted to sound like utter chaos. The engine driving this brakeless bus is Wright; his shifting snare and cymbal work, furiously roiling rhythms and anguished blurt supply the combustion that starts the flames. There's a sense of uneasiness to this record. Chord changes never seem to quite resolve, the lyrics owe more to William Burrough's cut-up method than narrative poetry and Wright always sounds like his gut is twisted into a square knot. There's no easy way out on All Eyes Open, but then again, there isn't meant to be. Go ahead, take the Death of Marat challenge. Michael Toland

For fans of: Tripod Jimmie, Gang of Four, Jacob's Mouse

DORA FLOOD
Welcome
(Dora Flood)
If you hear Welcome only once, you can be forgiven for thinking of Dora Flood as a clone of the British psychedelic arena bands of the early 90s. Rest assured, though, that there's more to the San Francisco quintet that mere mimicry on its third album. Leader Michael Padilla and his crew may be infatuated with flanged guitar leads, jangly strumming and tripped-out harmonies, but they're equally dedicated to honest-to-Oasis songs, the kind that sport tasty hooks, yummy melodies and real emotional punch behind the neopsych atmosphere. Long, shimmering epics like "Transition" and "Safety" share top shelf space with tuneful pop-rockers like "Down Again" and "Las Vegas." The band also pushes its own envelope with the slide-laced white soul track "Forgot to Be Numb," a startlingly good song that easily trumps anything Scritti Politti ever did. Dora Flood has the remarkable ability to sound cosmic without ever having to go into space; the opening title track practically defines the phrase "arrive without traveling." But this is a band that keeps its bare feet firmly planted in the earth—the song always comes before the sounds. Padilla would probably be the first to admit that his band isn't terribly original, but if he's honest he'll also assert that Dora Flood is one of the best of its type. Michael Toland

For fans of: the Verve, Tender Idols, Jeff Trott

AMINA FIGAROVA
Night Train
(Munich)
A concept album about a long train ride through Europe, Amina Figarova's Night Train takes the listener on a jazz journey through middle of the night. As much a showcase for the Rotterdam-based pianist's strong melodies as for her classically trained piano chops, the record moves through various post-bop styles with style and finesse. Aided by a couple of singers and a crack band of Dutch jazz vets, Figarova tickles the ivories through swinging blowouts ("Open to the World") and sultry ballads ("Good Neighbors") alike, with a sure touch for both. She's an excellent soloist, as she proves not only with her lead breaks within the tunes, but also with the series of interludes that appear throughout the record Indeed, the opening "Waiting for a..." is essentially a self-composed classical piano solo. This isn't to take anything away from her septet: saxophonists Carolyn Breuer and Kurt van Herck lay down some mellifluous breaks themselves, and flautist Bart Platteau also distinguishes himself nicely. Figarova's liner notes explain the story and intentions, but you don't need to understand the plot to grok the fine music on Night Train. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: Duke Ellington, Keith Jarrett, Joe Jackson

THE MAKERS
Strangest Parade
(Sub Pop)
It's hard to believe that Spokane's Makers were once a three-chord, by-the-book garage punk band. A couple of albums ago the quartet ditched the duplicate suits and Standells records for a retro-glam look and a fresh take on 70s rock, and it's never looked back. Where before the group snarled and spit, now it swaggers, with guitarist Jamie's tough riffs and frontman Michael's pouting tenor stalking the stage as if they owned it, the theater and the city in which it resides. Despite its gleeful acceleration straight over the top, though, the band's songwriting chops were never quite up to snuff, probably to due to its many years cranking out predictable garage rock. On Strangest Parade, however, songwriters Michael and bassist/keyboardist Donny finally have a strong enough grasp on vainglorious melody to come up with truly memorable tunes. "Laughter Then Violence," "Addicted to Dying" and "Hard to Be Human" are the kind of stomping melodic rockers that turn audiences into worshipful throngs, and ballads like "Calling My Name" and "Concert of Colors" will have the girls lining up by the backstage door. The band even tries its hand at lilting folk rock with "Wide Wide World of Girls" and "Suicide Blues," succeeding handily. The group still has some improvements to make (What's with all the underdeveloped song fragments? Someone's been listening to a few too many Guided By Voices records), but Strangest Parade finally moves the Makers from the file marked "interesting curiosity" into the one marked "band to watch." Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: D Generation, Hedwig & the Angry Inch, the New York Dolls

SKELETON KEY
Obtanium
(Ipecac)
After far too long an absence, Skeleton Key returns to the indie rock scene with its third disk Obtanium. Though now more of a collective than a steady group, the musical focus hasn't changed. The band's raison d'être is still slightly twisted pop hooks buried in junkshop noise, and the salt-and-pepper vocals, gnarled bass and quirky tunes of leader Erik Sanko still sit calmly at the center of the chaos. If anything, the melodies have grown sharper and catchier, though any reduction in the amount of clanking bottles, ringing hubcaps and shortwave radio static is minimal. In a sense, there's been no progression in the sound of Skeleton Key at all, but considering that no one else sounds anything like this, it doesn't make any damn difference. Terrific tunes like "One Way, My Way," "Kerosene" and "Sawdust" will satisfy the sweet tooth, while grittier cuts like "Dingbat Revolution" and "Panic Bullets" will bring grins to the face of any noisemonger. Obtanium will bring back fond memories of the group's previous opus Fantastic Spikes Through Balloons for longtime fans and blow the unprepared minds of newcomers. Hopefully Skeleton Key won't make us wait quite so long for its next masterpiece. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: fIREHOSE, And They Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead, the Meat Puppets

SUPERDRAG
Last Call For Vitriol
(Arena Rock)
Forget progression, innovation or stylistic experimentation. That's not sarcasm, but an honest admonition: forget 'em, you don't need 'em. Superdrag certainly doesn't, and it's made one of the best records so far this year. For its fourth album Last Call For Vitriol, the Knoxville quartet eschews any attempts at high-falutin significance or bold forays into new territory and just commences to rockin'. Hit the start button and you'll be immediately seduced by "Baby Goes to Eleven," a future power pop classic so good even a guest turn by Guided By Voices' Bob Pollard can't fuck it up. The band can be tough ("I Can't Wait," "Stu," "The Staggering Genius") or tender ("Safe and Warm," "Way Down Here Without You," "Her Melancholy Tune"), though it's arguably at its best when it combines the two ("Feeling Like I Do," "Remain Yer Strange"). "Drag Me Closer to You" even dabbles in cock-rock—you'll believe in the word "baby" again! Leader John Davis' winning melodies are matched only by his attractive vocals, and the band vigorously rocks out with both taste and gusto. Davis' ambition stretches only as far as writing great tunes and performing them like the world may end any second, and that's as it should be. Two guitars, bass, drums, harmonies and enough hooks to catch all the trout in the Mississippi are all Superdrag needs to bring a smile to the faces of all who hear Last Call For Vitriol. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: the Greenberry Woods, the Posies, Cheap Trick

Copyright © 2002 High Bias