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The American EP is the result of Roni Brunn only discovering music in the last two years. Born in Israel and moving to America at the age of 10, Brunn is a self taught musician. Playing all the instruments save for guitars on ‘American Girl,’ Brunn has created an ethereal and moody pop album that sounds more like it was recorded in the early Eighties than last year. Brunn’s background is a Harvard education and fashion which begs the question, how did she find her way to music?
Mixing electronic music (not techno) with brooding and sugared vocals, the tracks exhibit a unified vision of modern pop, not as a disc with one single only. It recalls early to mid Eighties British obscure pop, snotty sugar laced vocals colliding with synthesized music. The vocals are made up less of melodies than straight harmonies.
‘Mean to Stay’ is filled with echoing, hypnotic keyboards and forlornly thick Kim Wilde-ish vocals. Working like a song burning in the background of Less Than Zero or a post punk pop soundtrack of a film about young people struggling, ‘After That’ is a different take on longing for affection. The keyboards and staccato beat echo life’s movement and insecurity. Overall the disc’s raw qualities are matched by its stylization.
The American EP is catchy pop interlaced with moody music via The Cure in a Blade Runner future. Its simplicity is a refreshing change in a world of teen divas and regurgitated boy band heroes. The sound will stand alone as raw yet stylized.
- Brian Tucker
Majestic Twelve
Musically, Schizophrenology, works like the shape of the letter V. It begins on a high mark, energetic songs that slow down only to speed up again at a fine finish. Its themes traverse musical terrain, between political, the romantic, autobiographical and familial admiration.
It is the atypical rock album, devoid of designated pop hooks and catchy lyrics. Lyrically, it’s one story after another with depth you might not find elsewhere. For such a potent album, it is musically entertaining, and a treasure to experience live.
However, the best songs are likely to be overlooked due to those politically charged. While ‘Condoleeza, Check my Posse’ undoubtedly is all high wire, energetic and poignant, it takes away from the album as a whole. It’s the type of track that, after a few years, will seem misplaced, possibly irrelevant, pieces of the song likely to be samples on another album by another artist. ‘Thank God Everything on TV is a Lie’ is a close cousin to R.E.M.’s ‘It’s the End of the World as We Know It (and I feel fine).’ It succeeds in tapping into current political zeitgeist, mixing Viet Nam era catchphrases like winning hearts and minds with modern conflicts when adding it to with every bullet in Iraq. The narrator claims no allegiance to any party (I have figured out that you are all completely full of shit, he finishes) but continually makes one sided assertions and statements such as a baby and a fetus are completely different things and if everyone found Jesus, all those fags would have a cure. Other assertions that the straight white males are the lord of the world is a tired cliché and doesn’t serve anyone, merely a musical yardstick for radicals with no solutions. The track ends with the idea that a person should believe in themselves. Thank God. As a song, it certainly makes a point but it’s not that interesting to groove to.
‘Welcome to the City’ opens with drumming the likes of a machine gun, moving along swift and funky. With sparking guitar notes (that at times recalls Hendrix’s ‘Highway Chile’), hand claps and swirling police sirens it is a fiery mix of aggression and funky drumming. Sullivan’s vocals are loud and echoing, like a deeper voiced Fred Schneider.
Of those songs, ‘Trapped Underwater’ and ‘Cry’ are similarly powerful. ‘Cry’ is wrought with confusion and rage, the chorus belting out with such force to crack a stone wall only to end in the gentleness of piano notes. Beautiful stuff here. ‘Trapped Underwater’ moves along subtle and tense only to explode without warning. The opening lyrics saying more than the standard verse, Your fingertips are shaking/There's rhythm in your hips/Your fears are overtaking/Your perfect painted lips/I could be there, I could be real. The vocals are spoken and then sung, a reverse quality lending to the frenetic nature of the song.
‘Grandfather (Sweet Baby Jesus) is the album’s center piece, a quiet meditation on the finality of life, I can no longer build, so if it’s alright with you/Can I please come home? ‘Whispering’ is a welcome companion to it, a song rife with local history, from Hurricane Hazel in the Fifties, watching films at the beach, azaleas, to Grandma and crabbing and fishing. Joyce Bowden’s vocals on the track are a true gift. Tempo picks back up with ‘Break It and Breathe,’ a lively and uplifting song about the loss of a dear friend. It’s a moment on the album where a listener truly feels powerful, uplifted by the muscle of the song. And ‘American Rage’ is a working class song that anyone punching a clock for few dollars can easily get on board with.
Kenyatta Sullivan’s vocals are varied, he mixes up spoken word and singing while making fine form of a mouthful of lyrics. Arlo and Zimmerman would be proud for sure.
You may not agree with him politically or socially but you would be hard pressed not to spend time with him and probably like the guy. Schizophrenology is a thoughtful and intelligent rock record that should one day be translated into a damn fine musical.
Check out themajestictwelve.com for more and especially the lyrics
- Brian Tucker
When it reaches that time of year when everything warms up and you can go out without all that clothing on and have fun, you know, later and longer at night. Well, there are certain albums that just go right with that feeling. Everyone has their own list, but here’s an album you can add to that list.
So, grab your favorite six pack or drink mix, pull out the lawn chairs and a copy of The Maddhatters Just Another Day. Sit out in the sun and press play. All the other bullshit will drift away. At least for a while.
With Just Another Day, The Maddhatters have put together an energetic and frenzied mix of Ska, punk, psychobilly and a dose of old spy film music. If you aren’t familiar with Ska then this disc is a fine way to start. Just Another Day mixes in shades of reggae as well. The vibe of the record is summed up easy, fun and fast. If you like Reel Big Fish, Madness, Rancid or The Specials, you’ll dig it. If you don’t, you’ll dig it anyway.
The juxtaposition of music on ‘Just Don’t Get It’ describes the band’s caliber. It open’s fast and slides into a laid back stroll in the middle only return to full speed. Trent Petty’s vocals are a perfect match, at once scratchy and feverish on one track and then soulful and smooth on another.
‘Suicide Scarlet’ is wild mix of punk, a gate crasher of a song. Horns open the song and drive it harder than the guitar parts one would normally expect. The title track strides along, again, the horns carrying the mood of the song. It slinks and strides along, taking it’s time to please.
‘Dirty Rat’ is the most fun, as if trying to lift a roof off the place. ‘Detective Herb Token’ calls up ‘Peter Gunn Theme’ to great effect. Petty croons dirty against gritty guitar and shuffled drum beat. You can just see the bad guys with your ears.
‘New Chiller’ is a laid back instrumental that builds to a ferocious middle returning to it’s laid back vibe. It’s a stellar track and, like ‘Beetle Juice,’ is a superb instrument only track. ‘Superman’ is a humorous combination of sexual bravado, self promotion and children’s potty mouth tunes.
With Just Another Day the band proves that a variety of musical styles can make a potent combination. Fun anytime of year, check it out.
- Brian Tucker
First off, let’s just put it out there, this disc is relentless. It’s comes on like a storm surge and leaves everything exhausted and dehydrated in its wake. Sounding like a funkier version of old school Metallica or Rollins Band and Fu Manchu as a hybrid, one would be hard pressed to say Damaged Goods doesn’t put a tattoo on your eardrums.
The difference is the sound of the album, which is much rawer, pure power and loose energy on the floor. It’s as if the Hulk learned to play guitar and drums and made a band. R.T.I. is a heavyweight in the local rock scene.
Damaged Goods has a plug in and play feel, in the room with the volume turned up all the way and unapologetically in your way. ‘T.K.O.’ is rich in melody, its intro sounding unexpected. The guitar lifts up, like early era Van Halen but with sharper teeth. I can’t explain/Why I feel down they sing, standing in contrast to the music which is just the opposite.
As a whole the vocals are gritty and punkish, think Johnny Thunders with too many cigarettes underground. The guitar is heavily fuzzed out and bone crunching matched with invaluable drumming. It is never more apparent than on ‘Stick to Your Guns’ where the drums keep up more than the pace, helping form a metal collage.
‘Hidden Agenda’ boasts two vocalists and grinds away feverishly, sounding as if the speakers have a crack in them. It’s an aggressive song, pounding along mean and nasty, perfect to skate a bowl to. ‘Surrender’ may be the slowest track, think ‘Planet Caravan’ all sludged out and with a faster pace.
Damaged Goods is a collection of garage heavy and fever induced hard rock fit for a fight or a few hours in the pit. Leave your house now and buy it.
- Brian Tucker
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