High Bias aural fixations
August 3, 2003

CAMAROSMITH
Camarosmith
(Dead Teenager)
Rising like a carnivorous ghoul from the ashes of Zeke (as has Zeke itself recently), Camarosmith roars through a baker's dozen slabs of punkified metal—you know, that brutish, snarling type of eardrum shred that is so popular with the kids these days—on its self-titled debut. Guitarists Pat "Fuckin" Brown and Chris Johnsen beat those classic rock riffs mercilessly with a spiked baseball bat (or a guitar, whichever), as drummer Donnie Paycheck and bassist Jeff "Sweet Potato Jackson" Matz do their best imitation of a brontosaurus using uppers to come down from the downers. Vocalist/harmonicat Ben "Devil" Rew snarls, growls, barks and howls, sounding like he swallowed the microphone whole and is trying to sing while puking it back up. The relentless drive of cuts like "Choker" and "It's Alright" tend to pack the most immediately visceral punch, but slower, burlier tunes like "This Need" and "714" also have their ugly charms. "Running Free" pretty much sums up the Camarosmith aesthetic, revving from a ridiculously distorted bass solo to a slow, heavy stomp and a turbo-enhanced charge, not to mention the various permutations thereof. Camarosmith smashes rocks and gargles with the gravel. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: Bad Wizard, Dixie Witch, Alabama Thunderpussy

DENGUE FEVER
Dengue Fever
(Web of Mimicry)
Los Angeles-based combo Dengue Fever has a pedigree that includes not only underground rocksters like Dieselhed and the Radar Brothers, but also an honest-to-God dynasty. Lead singer Ch'hom Nimol comes from the Cambodian equivalent of the Jackson family, and the band wisely centers most of the arrangements on her appealing vocals. Patterning itself after 60 Asian psychedelic groups, Dengue Fever mixes Nimol's vocal lines (all sung in Khmer) with surf guitars, garage organs, soulful saxophones and straightforward rock/pop rhythms for an unusual yet familiar sound. It's modern, yet retro; futuristic yet nostalgic. On catchy, melodic cuts like "Hold My Hips," "Lost in Lads" and the irresistible "New Year's Eve," the band has no problem fronting an extremely distinctive sound while remaining accessible to those who barely know where Cambodia is located on a map. As more indigenous musics get absorbed into what we know as pop, we move ever closer to a truly global fusion; perhaps Dengue Fever is pointing the way. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: Cambodian Rocks, Ghost, Church of Betty

THE DRAGONS
Sin Salvation
(Gearhead)
A few years ago, San Diego quartet the Dragons released an album called R*L*F, which stands for "rock like fuck." That's a better description of what the band's all about than anything a humble music critic could come up with. The outfit is one of the leading lights in an undefined movement of artists who don't see any difference between punk, hard rock, roots rock or any other permutation—as long as it gets the blood pumping, the fists clenching, the heart pounding and the feet moving, in other words, as long as it rocks, it's grist for the two-guitars-bass-&-drums mill. The combo's latest album Sin Salvation is a testament to its powers. Frontman Mario Escovedo and company slam out hardfastrules like "Money or Your Life," "Play For Keeps" and the breathless title track with the hard-won wisdom of longtime barflies but the energy of three-year-olds on Sugar Pops dancing to speeded-up Wiggles tunes. "Claire" and "Tragedy" add some honest-to-Townshend pop hooks but bury them under the stale beer and cigarettes. "Sad Vacation," one of Escovedo's best-ever tunes, is a tribute to Johnny Thunders, one of the band's primary inspirations, but eschews tenderness to simply rock like, well, you know. Ken Mochikoshi Horne's muscular leads and Escovedo's JD-for-breakfast rasp sound like the culmination of the efforts of every bar band that's ever introduced punk rock into a classic rock-loving shot bar. It's damn near impossible to listen to Sin Salvation without wanting to jump up and down playing air guitar like a fool, which is kind of the point about rocking like fuck, right? Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: "Demons," Electric Frankenstein, the Supersuckers

GINGERSOL
The Train Wreck is Behind You
(Rubric)
L.A.'s Gingersol plays a roots-inflected style of melodic rock on its third album The Train Wreck is Behind You. Songwriters Steve Tagliere and Seth Rothschild write emotion-drenched pop songs that combine classic melodies with an almost desperate sense of heartache, adorning them tastefully in the usual mix of acoustic and electric guitars, vocal harmonies, organ, piano and occasional touches of banjo. Sonically, there's little here to distinguish Gingersol from its dozens of roots pop contemporaries, so the band has to rely on its songs to get its talent across. Fortunately, that's not a problem; poignant, memorable tracks like "Make It Stick," "You Fall Off" and the near-anthemic "Sleep Alright" (a hit in waiting, and for all the right reasons) hit all the pleasure buttons with the right force. Speaking of force, there's not much rocking out going on here, though "Amnesia" kicks up a decent cloud of dust—this is a band more concerned with communication through songcraft than raising a ruckus. The Train Wreck is Behind You won't exactly get the blood pumping, but it's sure to satisfy the bittersweet tooth. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: Blue Rodeo, Minibar, the Swinging Steaks

HORACE X
Sackbutt
(Omnium)
It's a rare band that can make a jaded critic sit up and exclaim, "What in the heck…?" With Sackbutt, Horace X manages to do it. It's not like the elements in Horace X's dance rock stew are anything that unusual; funk polyrhythms, folk fiddling, jazz fusion sax, raga vocals and electronic enhancements abound all over the music world. But somehow this band makes it all sound so…different. The British quintet not only draws its melodies and instrumentation from Celtic, Middle Eastern, African, Jamaican, American and Asian sources, it mixes and matches them so flawlessly it's nearly impossible to tell where one cultural influence ends and another begins. Between bassist Fabian Bonner and drummer/programmer Mark Russell's hip-shivering rhythms, fiddler Hazel Fairbairn and woodwind player Pete Newman's freeflowing melodies and frontman Simon Twitchin's caffienated ranting, the band's song never slow down long enough to be analyzed, and frankly, that's the way it should be. This is dance music, plain and simple; "Bad Lies," "Dreams—Half Empty" and "Nuff Megabyte" should get your feet moving, arms flailing and blood pumping in no time at all. No matter what its origins, Sackbutt will make your booty happy in no time. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: Brooklyn Funk Essentials, Afro-Celt Sound System, the Klezmatics

MASTODON
Remission
(Relapse)
There's heavy and there's heavy; Mastodon is the living embodiment of the latter. The Atlanta quartet's second disk Remission is simply a massive block of sound, like the enigmatic pieces of Stonehenge fused together and translated into music. Guitarists Bill Kelliher and Brent Hinds spew forth great, frothing gouts of heavy metal, their twisted yet accessible riffs leaving bleeding wounds in their wake. Drummer Brann Dailor is all over his kit like a jazz musician, never losing sight of the beat even as he beats the fecal matter out of every cymbal and snare, like the Keith Moon of death metal. Bassist Troy Sanders is in there somewhere too, his low-end throb the bent nail to which the other attach their flailing entrails. Sanders and Hinds trade off vocals somewhere between a psychotic drill sergeant and a hungry Tyrannosaurus Rex, like an erupting volcano transmuted into human speech. Yet there's an atmospheric quality to Mastodon's brutality; the band amazingly leaves enough open space in its arrangements to keep from overwhelming its audience with its relentless onslaught. "As passion encircles the daily storm," the beast seethes in the catchy "March of the Fire Ants," the heart bleeds and droughts do not"—that mixture of violent passion and nihilistic poetry pretty much sums up the group's approach. Shimmering arpeggios give way to boulder-smashing crunch in "Ol'e Nessie," which declares "Be mine always/Here for duration/Miss my sweet love" in the ugliest, most raging manner possible. "Mother Puncher," "Trilobite" and the aptly titled "Crusher Destroyer" combine impressive technique, compositional savvy and pure, raging emotion into the kind of savage beauty that blurs the line between a brutal attack and a loving caress. With Remission Mastodon takes dinosaur-stomp steps into redefining what the term "heavy" will mean from now on. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: At the Gates, High On Fire, Burnt By the Sun

CHRISTOPHER O'RILEY
True Love Waits: Christopher O'Riley Plays Radiohead
(Odyssey)
Christopher O'Riley is a world-renowned concert pianist with several classical albums to his credit. He's also a musician with a passion for Radiohead; thus, the album True Love Waits: Christopher O'Riley Plays Radiohead, a collection of Radiohead songs arranged for solo piano. Unsurprisingly, O'Riley draws most heavily from the OK Computer album, arguably the band's best balance between anthemic melody and its experimental instincts, though he takes tunes from every Radiohead release. O'Riley's lyrical fingering and attention to melodic detail underscores the band's compositional consistency; even if you listened to this blind, you'd know immediately every tune was written by the same folks. Some of the more florid songs, like "Karma Police" and "Airbag," border a little too much on Muzak cheese in these arrangements, but the approach works quite well for "Fake Plastic Trees" and "Subterranean Homesick Alien." O'Riley is smart enough to avoid the obvious choices, like "Paranoid Android" or "High and Dry," and many of these tunes work better without Thom Yorke's vocal histrionics. This probably isn't the record one is likely to throw on before an evening out with the boys, but it's probably a hip choice for background at your next dinner party. Michael Toland [buy it]

For fans of: Liz Story, Brad Mehldau, Bob James

Copyright © 2003 High Bias