High Bias aural fixations
May 11, 2003

BUDAPEST
Too Blind to Hear
(Republic/Universal)
Despite the name, modern rock quintet Budapest hails from the UK, near Oxford. Like so many other bands from that area (not to mention England in general), the five lads in Budapest were deeply affected by Radiohead's commercial breakthrough The Bends; the band's debut Too Blind to Hear is filled with morose, widescreen ballads and frontman John Garrison's keening tenor. The guitars mostly stay subtle in the mix, though they occasionally hit the boiling point whenever Garrison can no longer contain his anguish. Tunes like "Life Gets in the Way," "Further Away" and "Is This the Best It Gets" (it takes balls to challenge critics with a song title like that). It's a sound guaranteed to evoke a Pavlovian response in anyone who close his eyes and sings along to "High and Dry" or Coldplay's "Yellow" when they come on the radio; anyone else, however, may not look quite so fondly on the band's by-the-book emo-pop. The final song is unfortunately indicative: "Nothing New." Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: Coldplay, the Prayer Boat, Starsailor

VIC CHESNUTT
Silver Lake
(New West)
When it comes to a critically acclaimed artist like Vic Chesnutt, it's fairly disingenuous to use the phrase "his best album yet." In Chesnutt's case, the phrase has been applied to nearly every album he's released; either he's on a constant upward swing creatively (which is certainly possible, not to mention desirable) or it's just an easy catch phrase critics use to make sure laymen pay attention to an idiosyncratic artist. That said, Silver Lake is Chesnutt's best album yet. No, really. This record, Chesnutt's ninth, is the kind of project artists dream of making: the perfect marriage of sympathetic musicians to an exceptionally strong set of songs. Produced by Mark Howard, Silver Lake was recorded mostly live, using a set of session musicians including Lucinda Williams guitarist Doug Pettibone, Daniel Lanois bassist Daryl Johnson, Michael Penn associate Patrick Warren and roots rock drummers Don Heffington and Mike Stinson. The loose (but never sloppy) arrangements and intimate interaction between the musicians and Chesnutt result in a warm, soulful sound that could only come from a bunch of guys who understand exactly what the songs need. And many of these tunes would make a top ten list of Chesnutt's best: the bittersweet reminiscence of "Band Camp," the self-loathing ballad "Styrofoam," the quirky portrait "Zippy Morocco," the observational tale "Fa-La-La," the twin anthems "Stay Inside" and "2nd Floor," the wry affirmation "In My Way, Yes." Chesnutt's conversational twang is as love-it-or-hate-it as ever, but it's impossible to imagine anyone else singing these songs effectively (though no doubt many will try). This is not only the most listenable album in Chesnutt's career, it's also the most emotional and moving. Say it together: Silver Lake is Vic Chesnutt's best album yet. Believe it. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: American Music Club, Giant Sand, the Band

THE DERAILERS
Genuine
(Lucky Dog)
Genuine is the second album (sixth overall) Austin's favorite honkytonk band the Derailers has recorded using the Music City production process in Nashville, and it shows. Once a self-contained C&W powerhouse, on Genuine the Derailers "accept" (and we use the term loosely) help from various Nashville co-writers (including respected guns for hire Jim Lauderdale, Al Anderson and Kostas) and a ton of backup musicians. Not just on pedal steel or fiddle, mind you, but also on guitars, bass, drums and harmony vocals—all of which are already provided quite competently by the band itself. Really, if you're producing a band with a lead guitarist and harmony singer as ridiculously gifted as Brian Hofeldt, why hire four extra six-stringers and five additional throats to augment what's already there? And since Hofeldt and lead singer Tony Villanueva have proven themselves honkytonk songwriters in the classic mode, why bring in a hack like Kostas, especially if a mediocrity like "Boomerang Heart" is the best he can provide? Producer Kyle Lehning seems to be doing his best to bury the Derailers' naturally rootsy personality in a ton of studio gloss, including, on "Alone With You," Billy Sherrill-style strings. Put in the position of fronting a gaggle of Nashville sessioneers rather than his band, Villanueva responds appropriately, sounding detached and listless on tracks like "Whole Other World," "Leave a Message, Juanita" (a band-generated tune, even) and the title track. Considering that Villanueva is usually one of the most soulful vocalists in country music, this is a sad state of affairs. Then there's the utterly stupid "I Love Me Some Elvis"—one wonders what threat to the guys' children induced them to record such a moronic ditty. Only the low-key bluegrass gospel of "The Wheel" (the irony of this track being essentially Villanueva and the session dudes is duly noted) and the nimble cover of Buck Owens' "The Happy Go Lucky Guitar" have any punch. The title of this album is sadly ironic, since there's only one thing genuine about it: its status as pure product. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: Jim Lauderdale, the Mavericks, Hal Ketchum

FOREST STREAM
Tears of Mortal Solitude
(Elitist/Earache)
Like a lot of groups in the extreme metal universe, Russian black metal mob Forest Stream has been waiting a long time to drop its debut album. Fortunately Tears of Mortal Solitude is, for the most part, worth the wait. Guitarist Wizard Omin, bassist Silent Anth and drummer/keyboardist/singer Somn the Darkest (don't look at us, we didn't choose their stage names) play majestic, sorrow-soaked metal that emphasizes the melodies as much as the misery. An epic track like "Last Season Purity" uses changing time signatures, tuneage that moves from the atmospherically sinister to the brutally hateful and a definite sense of progressive rock dynamics to back Somn (who's also a doctoral candidate in physics, not that it makes a difference) and his blackened rasp. "Snowfall" and "Black Swans" deftly conjure auras bleak enough to pass for Gothic poetry, but Omin's six-string aggression and Somn's unintelligible growl keep the songs from lapsing into self-pity. "Whole" even drops the death metal theatrics in the intro's keyboard-driven, crooned Gothic rock. At nearly 70 minutes, the record is somewhat overlong—few can last over an hour wallowing in despair with fangs this sharp. But emotional oppression is the point here; in the world of Forest Stream, "crestfallen" is the natural state of the union. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: Vintersorg, Emperor, Agalloch

MOUNTAIN MIRRORS
Voices
(Mountain Mirrors)
On the Voices EP, Mountain Mirrors specializes in what principal Jeff Sanders calls "Zen guitar rock," mantra-minded psychedelia centered on worldbeat rhythms and six-string sonics. Middle eastern tonalities meet an array of effects pedals and tunings; interestingly, despite the guitar being the center of the arrangements, the guitar solo is mostly absent. Atmospheric, acid-drenched cuts like "Field of Grass" and "Eclectic Caravan" are all about texture more than riffs; "Wash Me Away" is the closest thing to a conventional rocker. The bonus track "Sidewinder" has some rubbery wah-wah and squealing solos, but even then they share space with busy percussion and Sanders' personable voice. The low budget hurts a bit, as the mix isn't as full as it should be in order to appreciate the nuances involved here. But Sanders definitely has the creativity side down; it won't be long before someone gives him the money to make his recording dreams come true.

Voices is available from mp3.com. Michael Toland

For fans of: Hawkwind, Led Zeppelin's trippier side, Brant Bjork

THE SUPERSUCKERS
Motherfuckers Be Trippin'
(Mid-Fi)
Now this is what we call faith in the universe. Seattle's favorite bastard sons the Supersuckers have abandoned the world of corporate labels to plant their own flag in the pop culture landscape, releasing their latest album Motherfuckers Be Trippin' on their own label, and yet they're the first to point out that "Rock-n-Roll Records (Ain't Selling This Year)." Not that this hard rockin' little number, which leads off the album with some of the band's most devastating riffs, is in any way pessimistic; rather, frontbozo Eddie Spaghetti declares that, regardless of what kind of shitty-ass music rules the charts, he and the boys pledge their allegiance to three chords, illegal substances and the kind of volume that melts speaker cones and brainpans. The Suckers have been ramming out their manifesto for rockism for well over a decade now, long before any of the current "punk rock & roll" combos made the scene, and it shows in the performances, which are as raucous as a ten-dollar-whore on too much tequila while still being as tight as the condom they'll use to fuck her. Alcohol plays a big part, of course, as tipsy tunes like "Bubblegum and Beer," "Pretty Fucked Up" and "A Good Night For My Drinkin'" make blearily clear, and that's about as high as the sleaze factor gets on this slab, though "The Fight Song" hints at stranger kinks. Nothing seems to bring these boys down; they've got smiles on their faces more permanent than Joker venom tattoos. Except for the wild-eyed "Someday I Will Kill You," the admonition "Grab a drink and chug-a-lug/Have some sex and take some drugs" in "Rock Your Ass" is about as brow-furrowing as it ever gets. Motherfuckers Be Trippin' isn't as start-to-finish consistent as the band's blood-pumpin' masterpiece The Evil Powers of Rock 'N' Roll, but it's still guaranteed to box your ears, burst your aorta and wreck your vertebrae like a good rock & roll record should. This one will sell this year, no question. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: Motörhead, Dash Rip Rock, the Turbo AC's

CHRIS WHITLEY
Hotel Vast Horizon
(Messenger)
Some might argue that Hotel Vast Horizon, Chris Whitley's ninth album, is the record hardcore fans have been waiting for him to make since his debut Living With the Law. It's an acoustic record, with Whitley totally forgoing electric guitar and backed by a subdued rhythm section, not unlike his Perfect Day album, except with original songs instead of covers. A lot of his fans believe Whitley should stick to his dobro and not call upon the demon electricity, as if that would somehow make his music more "pure" somehow. Well, one could argue that purity is a matter of intent, not execution, and that Whitley's albums depend on the quality of the songs and performances more than the trappings in which they're dressed. Hotel Vast Horizon complicates things, however. Every track is hushed, as if the band was afraid of disturbing the folks next door to the studio; even Whitley's sinuous voice is kept in check. The effect is that, while not really harmed by this approach, tunes like "Breaking Your Fall," "New Lost World" and "Assassin Song" have their impacts diminished by the sedate presentation. You keep waiting for a howling guitar solo, sudden falsetto or a trippy studio effect to add a twist to the proceedings, but none ever comes. Only "Insurrection at Newtown" raises the energy level above warm, and even then Whitley keeps his voice down. For many longtime fans, these points will bring a smile to their faces, but for those who love Whitley's unpredictable nature, Hotel Vast Horizon may be something of a disappointment. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: Daniel Lanois, Vic Chesnutt, Bob Dylan

Copyright © 2003 High Bias