This disconnect isn’t surprising, considering the sextet of psych rockers is based in the Portlandesque neighborhood of Silver Lake in northeast Los Angeles—the same neighborhood Elliott Smith, Beck and Grandaddy called home in the late ’90s and early oughts. “We’ve really grown to love it here. We’ve created a really nice spot in the community,” says Parson frontman Evan Way.

“Community” is a fitting word for the Parsons themselves. The tight-knit group of former Oregonian twentysomethings is a mishmash of longtime friends, family members and spouses: “I went to high school [in Medford] with the drummer, who is now my wife [Brette Marie Way], and played high-school baseball with the bass player,” explains Way, whose sister, Erin Way, plays keyboard in the band. The tambourine-heavy music lies in the gray area between jam-band fare and psychedelic folk pop. But while the Red Heads are constantly compared to ’60s groups like the Byrds (which Way takes as a high compliment), their new EP, Owl & Timber (self-released in May), has a dreamy, soft-edged singalong quality to it that places the Parsons squarely in the present.

The Parsons do have one undeniably retro quality—their cultish all-white (think Polyphonic Spree) fashion sense. The clan picked up the dress code in late 2003 after imagining that other bands would “look cooler” in white. “Almost every time, they did,” says Way. The band’s career turned white-hot around the same time, as buzz around its full-length debut, King Giraffe (Yukon Records), scored it monthly residencies at the Echo, Spaceland and Silver Lake Lounge—three of L.A.’s top venues for indie rock (in L.A., residencies are a big deal). Suddenly, all-white seems alright, and everything old is new again.
]]> Thu, 28 Aug 2008 17:04:37 +0000 red heads parson red heads red heads live silver lake silver lake loungethree parsons squarely parsons residencies jam-band fare The Parson Red Heads. Thursday, Aug. 28 http://www.musicratty.com/article/5488e21565aa994e243273dbab6639fd http://www.musicratty.com/article/5488e21565aa994e243273dbab6639fd

HOT VICTORY, Self-Titled (Megathon/One Legged Pup)

[DRUM & DRUM] On side A (the “HOT” side) of its new single, Hot Victory stakes its entry into the burgeoning drum & drum genre. Live, it’s Portlanders Caitlin Love and Ben Stoller on mirror-image drum kits with a squall of cassette tape noise and broken toy accoutrements. On record, it’s often one drum set in a big hall, accompanied by hand drums, buckets, found objects and what sounds a lot like the ambient power-tool smorgasbord of a construction site (most likely found sounds from under the venerable Hawthorne Bridge, near Audiocinema, where this EP was cut). By side B’s single long track, “Bungalow,” the pair’s gone completely prehistoric, with the percussion getting deconstructed even further and the ambient sounds seeming more simian by the moment. But part way through the B-side, things change: The glitchy distortion of processed drums creeps in from silence, only to be doubled by a massive reverbed kit and blissed-out, sub-bass synths. It’s a glimpse of just how accessible these skeletons of songs could be—if the artists involved were considering an audience outside of friends and fellow art fags. When making music this purely abstract, and processing it to gorgeous two-tone vinyl, there’s no reason to consider anyone else, really.

 PURE COUNTRY GOLD, P.C.G.E.P. (Green Noise)

[PUNKIFIED BLUES] There’s no country to be found on the craftily named P.C.G.E.P. (no doubt a reference to the Butthole Surfers’ infamous PCPEP), but there is plenty of pure, uncut, adrenaline-fueled blues revisionism. The raspy vocals on all these tracks are workmanlike and pushed through vintage mics. The instruments are played and produced perfectly for the sort of high-octane, punk-influenced rock and roll that’s PCG’s bread and butter. These two men (Patrick “Petey” Foss and Jake Welliver) absolutely wail on the guitar and drums, setting up four toe-tapping numbers and knocking them down in under eight minutes. Side A kicks off with “The Boss,” a series of open chords and fast beats the band can’t seem to wrap up fast enough. Next up is “Witchtown,” a swinging blues guitar line that rides over a shuffling drumbeat, just begging for sweaty dancing and spilt beer. If the first track on side A sounds like Buddy Holly as interpreted by John Waters, then side B kicker “Lady Low” conjures the ghost of Elvis and pumps him full of amphetamines (as if he needed more). The closer is a chunky midtempo rocker called “You Got to Bro Up to Bro Down” (a title that peels back the veil of poster-modernism at work here). This one ends with a bit of noodling and feedback that would make Greg Ginn sneer with approval.

SHARON ROBINSON
Everybody Knows
(Sharon Robinson Music)

By Todd Lavoie

Sharon Robinson is one smooth deceiver. On first listen, the singer-songwriter's silken soul meditations might easily billow on overhead in drifts of nerve-soothing R&B - but pull your ears a little closer, and you'll see that there's much, much more at work here than merely setting up some hot-whisper mood music for kicking back with a bottle of wine and your sweet thing on the sofa. Her new release, Everybody Knows, certainly succeeds in creating such ambiance, yes, but further inspection shows enormous depth and complexity across these 10 elegantly arranged songs.

This isn't to downplay the burning sensuality that casts an amorous glow throughout the disc - only the most puritanical of listeners could miss, or deny, the extended come-hither of Robinson's songwriting and self-production. Still, what ultimately resonates the most profoundly is the sense of haunting, of introspection, which burrows itself firmly among the satiny synth textures and jazz-informed midnight grooves.

Such a realization shouldn't come as much of a surprise to those already familiar with Robinson; the songwriter has been a longtime collaborator with Leonard Cohen, having co-written songs with him as well as producing his deliciously moody 2001 album, Ten New Songs (Columbia). (That's her on the cover with him, by the way - an entirely appropriate sharing of the credit, too, given that her involvement included co-writing, arranging, electronic programming, and harmonizing throughout the recording.)

A former back-up vocalist for Cohen, Robinson can also boast of sharing songwriting credits for what has become one of the Canadian treasure's signature songs over the years: the still-jawdropping, still-undeniably relevant "Everybody Knows," a cynicism-tempered panorama surveying the perils of love in the modern era. Originally on Cohen's stunning 1988 full-length, I'm Your Man (Columbia), the song has since been covered by everyone from Concrete Blonde (rather effectively in the film Pump Up the Volume) to Rufus Wainwright (with a nice injection of sordid-cabaret melodrama) to, um, Don Henley (no comment). And, as the album title would suggest, Robinson also takes on the song herself - more on that later.

Obviously, then, Robinson's kinship with Cohen runs quite deep - an observation furthered by the inclusion of three Cohen collaborations, as well as album artwork provided by the inimitable singer and poet. Like Cohen, Robinson possesses a gift for slipping long-lingering images and sly observations into wooing melodies. One gets the feeling that both delight in luring unsuspecting listeners into their strategically placed lyrical traps.

With Everybody Knows, glistening synth and Fender Rhodes arrangements and rubber-smooth bass lines furnish the seductive backdrop for such under-the-skin pronouncements as "a room full of revelers are waiting inside / to bear witness to your struggle, to sanction your pride" ("Party for the Lonely"). Endowed with a rich, soulful alto - landing somewhere between Roberta Flack, Cassandra Wilson, and Sade Adu - Robinson breathes immeasurable levels of misty-eyed longing and downhearted reflection into her songs, thus delivering far more than simply a gorgeous voice floating above subtle electronic textures. Fans of the lights-down-low atmospherics and mellow-soul of Zero 7 and some of Morcheeba's catalog should find themselves similarly engrossed by this disc. Everybody Knows reveals itself slowly, gradually - like a guarded lover, perhaps. Thus, getting acquainted will probably throw more than a few surprises.

"Party for the Lonely" is at the moment my favorite track, an alluring web of haunting keyboards and fluttering, sometimes electronically treated vocals married to a delicate folk-soul arrangement which wouldn't feel out of place on a more recent Terry Callier album, for example. Robinson's sultry-hush delivery of the titular phrase - administered with a slight vocoder tweak along the way - goes right for the eardrum, serving the perfect set-up for a lovely juxtaposition between the lush, romantic ambiance and the downbeat lyrical thrust of the song.

To my ears, there's a bit of ambiguity to the song - never a bad thing, as it allows for multiple interpretations. Are she and the subject - the guest of honor at this party for the lonely - lovers? Ex-lovers? Somewhere in-between? I'm unsure, as Robinson prefers to leave things open: "There'll be a flower for your lapel / A list of things you do really well / You'll be in the spotlight, you'll be at your best / I've got an invitation for one and a guest."

"Invisible Tattoo" is another highlight, driven by a late-night-drive rhythm and understated jazz-accented instrumentation. Puffs of keyboards intersect with elegant piano lines to tremendous effect on this spellbinding confession of longing after the love has gone: "There's an invisible tattoo / a lasting impression of you / all over me."

"The High Road" is the jazz-pop centerpiece of the album, offering Robinson's most full-throated vocal turns in a gospel-tinged tale of moving on from a no-good lover. James Harrah's weary-but-hopeful electric guitar phrasing renders a splendidly heartfelt duet with such strength-summoning avowals as "My heart is battered, my soul is bruised / My face is wearing that smile I use / I'll put my anger under lock and key / And I'll take the high road and walk away quietly."

And how about the title song? Robinson immerses herself in the "Everybody Knows" world of jilted lovers, secrets, and lies, and, yes, the ever-looming threat of AIDS ("everybody knows that the plague is coming / everybody knows that it's moving fast"), and she recounts it all with a bewitching combination of resignation, hope, and lustfulness. Whereas Cohen brought an appreciable amount of apocalyptic narration to his version, here the song's cloak of dread, desperation, and cynicism is tempered by Robinson's discernibly-less-doomsday delivery.

Don't lose yourself in the velvet ambient-soul arrangement and the unflappable coolness of the vocals for too long, however - or else you might be in for quite a shock upon hearing such observations as "Everybody knows that you love me baby / everybody knows that you really do / Everybody knows that you've been faithful / Give or take a night or two."

Here's a clip of "Invisible Tattoo":

To be sure, each song is quite like the last, only the stories and the tempos seem to change as Joshua and his band roll through easy to digest, soft, breezy and personal Nashville-ready numbers. For a man who's seen as being indie in his musical nature, his finger is firm on the pulse of what's hot today. His voice is the most enjoyable part of the entire affair, bringing to mind a more lively Paul Simon or a less disgruntled and strangled Connor Oberst. The songs feature flourishes of mandolin, steel, organ and piano at proper moments, hitting all the right notes but doing so rather flatly in the process. When the songs focus more on James' story-telling is when they're most effective; "FM Radio", "Lord, Devil & Him" and "Tell My Pa" stand out on such merits. The rest just sorta blends together in an admittedly easy but ultimately too easy fashion, going down like a glass of lukewarm lemonade on a blistering hot day. 

I'm really not the guy you want reviewing someone like Joshua James. When it comes right down to it, all the honesty, integrity, skill and will you can muster doesn't save such standard music from letting me down. It's altogether a good album and one fans of the country-minded singer/songwriters popular nowadays should most certainly own. For the rest of us, however, we might long for Dylan or Cash to get a feel of how music of this nature was originally done, and done with much more honesty, integrity, skill and will.  

It's not that "The Weight," "Jambalaya" and "Like a Hurricane" are bad, and Healy's playing is raw and right throughout. And certainly the choices of familiar songs benefit a bar band, and this was recorded with a bar band backing him, and two tracks on the record are live. But too often the playing doesn't rise above what you'd hear on a Friday night anywhere. And you know yourself, most Friday night bands sound great only after a beer or four. Other tracks like "It's Only Money" and "Mess O'Blues" are by the numbers barrellhouse blues, nothing more.

Better are the slow, sexy strut of "How Blue an You Get," or the semi-funky "Sugar Sweet."

But even here there is nothing adventurous at work, nothing that tries to take you higher. Healy, at least in the early days, was mentioned as a new blues guitar hero, only just below Stevie Ray Vaughn. What kept him from reaching that level, aside from not being able to singvery well, is that his fretwork, for all its fire and bruising potential, never made any tune his own. "Messof Blues" is fun record, one featuring several shit-hot guitar solos by an artist who'll be missed, but who didn't leave anything classic behind. Maybe some posthumous live stuff will come out and make me sound like a son of a bitch. I hope so.

Unofficial, VIDEO PREMIERE!

Above is the supposed video for another track from Paper Trail called “What Up”! I’m havin’ trouble playin’ videos myself right now, but I figured the top spot is nothing new 2 T.I. b/c he just scored the biggest leap in Billboard Hot 100 history with his 1st single, “Whatever You Like” jumping from #71 to #1! Congrats to T.I. & I’m real happy 2 see him up on top with a song that has really grown on me. Jyea! Down below, a few trax and vids featuring Cassidy, Saigon, Jagged Edge, Nas, The Game, Joe Budden, & many more! Enjoy!

Statik Selektah “To The Top (Stick 2 The Script)” f/ Cassidy, Saigon, & Termanology

FULL, CDQ *Tibs Fav.™

Casely “U Got That Fire”

FULL, CDQ

Jagged Edge “Rider (Pt. 3)

FULL, CDQ

—————————————————————————————

Nas “Sly Fox” LIVE @ Letterman

The Game “Dope Boys” f/ Travis Barker LIVE @ Jimmy Kimmel

Statik Selektah “To The Top (Stick 2 The Script)” f/ Cassidy, Saigon, & Termanology

Joe Budden Speaks On Padded Room

DJ Envy & Maino Interview

~ Sgt. Tibs

THE PHANTOM JETS

"The Phantom Jet Set" LP
SCALP 179

Lookout! Flying atcha in their patented Rev-O-Phonic sound, it’s the Phantom Jets! This phearsome phoursome has been serving up searing-hot, flame-broiled slabs of prime-cut garage-punk grunt all around Northern California for nearly two years now! But who are they you ask? Hailing from Sacramento, California's own 'River City', this capitol group is one capital group! These Golden State go-getters have but a single goal: to get toes tappin’ and mitts clappin’ to their fuzzed-out, reverb-drenched tunes. And you'll know the Phantom Jet sound when you hear it: take minor-key 60’s garage punk, mix with a healthy dose of hip-shakin’ teen-beat, and serve with a steaming side order of brat-punk attitude! You want more? You got it! Add a dash of spy-tinged sleekness, a dollop of spooky combo organ vibe, cook in a fiery cauldron of pure rock n’ roll fury and there you have it: the primitive garage-beat stew from whence the Phantom Jets emerged! These wyld kids will rock your socks and blow your tops!

In the last year alone they have released two successful self-produced EP's and a rockin', boppin' 7" single featuring mixes of three ground pounding PJ stompers, all in futuristic MONAURAL sound! But the list of accomplishments doesn't stop there. Not only did they headline the inaugural Sacramento Horror Film Festival in 2007, they also became the first band to play California’s legendary Thunderhill Raceway...and believe us, the sound of race engines PALED next to the rockin' power of the Phantom Jets!

But don't just take it from your friendly neighborhood record label, Sacramento’s infamous 'Unknown Critic' described the Phantom Jets as "...crazy rockin’ classic 60's garage pop with a side of surf punk. Dick Dale meets The Sonics, not a bad combination. These guys are fun, exciting, energetic and talented. So hold on tight because they will indeed deliver the goods. Do yourself a huge favor if you haven't done so already: check out The Phantom Jets!" We couldn't agree more!

The Phantom Jets! They're togged to the bricks and lookin’ fer kicks as they continue to spread their brand of wyld rock'n'roll around the Golden State.

The 'Jets are:

Phantom No. 1 – Ted ‘Howlin Mad’ Murdock! Lead guitars and vocals. His licks cut harder than a Ginsu knife!

Phantom No. 2 – John ‘The Punisher’ Guinan on bass! He’s got more grooves than a stack of 45’s!

Phantom No. 3 – Sarah ‘The Ice Queen’ Hudson on organ! The fetching femme fatale of the Farfisa!

Phantom No. 4 – Frank ‘The Belgian Brute’ Temmerman on the drums! Someone call the fuzz, there’s a beating going on behind those tubs!

Yes, they'll shred like Krueger and howl like cougars, so get on board and come fly with thee wyldest outfit this side of the American River. The Phantom Jets: moving at the speed of sound…destination: EXCITEMENT!

Screaming Apple Records is proud to release their debut-album, "The Phantom Jet Set", a true little masterpiece of real 60’s buzz saw garage-punk, which should complete the record collection of every STAGGERS, WITCH DOCTORS, SATELLITERS, early CYNICS, SONICS, SWAMP RATS and DEL-VETTS afficinado on our planet.

Tracklist:

Side 1

1.Phantom Stomp
2.Prisoner of Love
3.Drag Queen Race
4.Heart of Stone
5.Teenage Frankenstein
6.Swingin' Zombie Head
7.Thee Action's Gone

Side 2

1.I Can Tell
2.Ask For Nothing
3.We'll Be Fine
4.I Wanna Tell You
5.The One We Want
6.DeadBeat Drag

http://www.myspace.com/phantomjets

To purchase ..http://www.soundflat.de/shop/shop.cfm?artnr=12925&;start=8&ba=p&CFID=44512615&CFTOKEN=73919401

The real reason why Train of Thought is ranked so inconsistently inside of the Dream Theater fanbase is because its quality greatly varies in accordance with how one chooses to judge it. Judged as a whole, the album is a mess. The songs are too long, boasting too many irrelevant sections, too many keyboard-guitar duels and too much failed experimentation (rapping). Judged part-by-part, the record is quite good. It’s home to many of the band’s best melodies and riffs, and features some of their best ideas ever.

One of the weakest aspects of the album is its production. As if the compositions weren’t heavy enough already, Mike Portnoy and John Petrucci decided that just in case we didn’t realize it, they’d turn the guitars and drums way up in the mix and drown out all the other instruments in the process. In addition, the guitars are horribly downtuned and Jordan Rudess doesn’t seem to be doing much more than doubling over JP’s riff work. Every band member sounds out of his element to a degree, and it makes the record seem artificial and hollow.

Train of Thought is also notable for being the beginning of James LaBrie’s downfall with Dream Theater (his solo work is still splendid). It is ironic that, after giving LaBrie an ultimatum to get his act together and become a better vocalist after the Six Degrees of Inner Turbulence world tour, Dream Theater chose to start giving him lesser material to perform. It doesn’t matter that LaBrie isn’t hitting high notes; it matters that he’s being given generic vocal melodies to sing and that he isn’t being required to execute his vocals with the force and assertiveness that he is capable of.

On the rare occasions that LaBrie is given chances to shine, he steals the show, as is the case with the album’s closer, “In the Name of God”. Certain segments of the song are phenomenal. Its chorus is one of the best choruses in the DT cannon and its outro is one of the best stretches of music the band has ever produced. James is also very good during the opening minutes of “This Dying Soul”, which starts out great but ends poorly.

Some of the songwriting choices that are made over the course of the album’s running length are pitiful. “Endless Sacrifice”, in particular, is the most awkwardly disjointed song in the band’s discography. On top of that, it is home to one of the most mind-numbingly boring instrumental sections I’ve ever heard (four minutes of JP and JR playing as fast as they can and trying to out-shred one another before concluding things with an obligatory unison solo). “Stream of Consciousness”, an instrumental, has an excruciatingly dull stretch half-way through where the band stops and re-starts everything twice, perhaps with the goal of building up momentum, but, instead, all they do is draw out what would’ve been a stellar tune.

Not only are some of the songwriting choices bad, but some of the lyrical directions that the band takes are even worse. I’m all for fun, balls-to-the-wall metal, but that doesn’t excuse penmanship of this low quality. Many times, the respective lyricist doesn’t sound as tough or forceful as intended; instead, he sounds angsty and immature. As an example, “As I Am” sees John Petrucci telling the listener (and Queensrÿche) that “You cannot touch/The way I/Play/Or tell me what to say” and that he’s “Fucked/Feels like I’m stuck/Lost in a sea of mediocrity”. There is an abundance of laughable lines like these on the record, and they greatly detract from the overall listening experience.

As a whole, Train of Thought is too long, fat-riddled and poorly written to keep my interest. It’s a boring listen, one that is almost saved on numerous occasions by its individual moments of spectacle, but never entirely. Had the disc been produced and mixed better, and been judiciously edited, I might have liked it more, but as it is, it’s one of Dream Theater’s worst releases to date.

© Kevin Martell (TheOutlawXanadu)

by TheOutlawXanadu


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