I've been on a review hiatus for quite a few months now, which I apologize for. To whomever has sent me music in late '22 to the present thanks for your patience. Here are a few words on a handful of titles that have made an impression or two.
I've been guilty as the next guy of ignoring the most recent release(s) from a prolific artist, namely one who has say, ten+ albums to their credit. From Robert Pollard to Neil Young to Motorhead, I've quite literally taken all of these institutions for granted simply because I have so much from them already. I may not be as familiar with Chris Church's quickly accumulating catalog as the aforementioned, but I'm conscious of the fact that just about every time I turn around I learn he's got a new CD under his belt. I'm glad I opted not to sleep on Radio Transient, because it's one of his most inspired and inventive in recent memory. Church has always been a deft power pop craftsman, yet there's something different about this album's commencing tune, the brash, multilayered "GCRT," that grabs you by the collar with it's mix of lush instrumentation, technical finesse and frantic vocals. Although the going on the remainder of RT isn't always as urgent, it's an embarrassment of riches, much in league with what Tommy Keene, Marshall Crenshaw, and even Todd Rundgren were supplying us with in the mid/late '80s. Yes, there's a certain slickness to the arrangements here that could seemingly pass for major label-budget muster, say three decades ago, but every iota of this disc is thoroughly heartfelt and delivers a spate of stunning high water marks, like "Going Til We Go," and "Over and Out." Radio Transient is already a contender for one of 2023's best albums, and has me scurrying to see what else I've recently missed from Chris Church. It's available now straight from Big Stir Records.
Hailing from Detroit but distinctly conjuring up a musical reference due west in Minneapolis, Popular Creeps swiped their moniker from a Chris Mars solo cut. Truthfully, there aren't exactly 180 degrees of separation between this quartet and the Mats, but the Creeps rough-hewn stripe of warm, reverby rock n roll eschews any semblance of filler or pretense. Frontman Lenny Grassa previously made a name for himself in a wonderful, like-minded outfit dubbed The Leonards in the latter increments of the twentieth century and hearing him again on the mic is a welcome surprise. Both of his bands seemed to be tilting in the vicinity of early Figgs, not to mention bygone southern aggregations like Snatches of Pink and Finger. Given the low visibility of these names however, my observation might amount to nothing more than sheer coincidence. Their second album (and first for Big Stir) All of This Will End in Tears wields some serious pent up aggression in the guise of the absolutely cranking "Tear Me Apart" and "From the Past," both of which embrace pure punk, or at the very least the biting power chords thereof. Overall these guys tend to function at a less strenuous pace on Tears, just don't hold out for any ballads lurking on this record. It's 2023 kids, and this is about as earnest as it's going to get.
I've got even more Detroit tuneage to enlighten you about, namely Jeremy Porter and the Tucos, a combo who've been in business for about a decade or so who are touting their most recent album, 2021's Candy Coated Cannonball. Nothing too unusual here - singer-songwriter fronting a sharp, guitarsy three-piece whose plaintive confessions usually hit the mark and occasionally yield something gnarly, like the indelible "Dead Ringer," which strikes me as the best slice of power pop Wilco forgot to come up with on A.M. In fact, there are shades of '90s indie rock cropping up delightfully all over ...Cannonball, and when these guys really nail the bullseye on the power chord enhanced "Girls Named Erica" and the looser "What Could Be in That Box" Jeremy and the Tucos impact along the same lines as the Lemonheads. I discovered more than a few interesting ideas here. Smash the hyperlink above and set yourself up with a copy of Cannonball on CD, digital, or even clear wax.
And now we're up to the Black Watch's difficult twenty-second album...or is their twenty-third? At any rate, John Andrew Frederick and Co. have given us a hell of a lot of music over the years, and seem to up the
sophisti-rock ante with virtually every successive release. As for this
being a "difficult" album, I say that partly in jest as Frederick
strikes me as a bit wearier and perturbed than usual on Future Strangers, albeit not by much. No, this isn't the Black Watch's Disintegration or Unknown Pleasures or really anything uber-cathartic, yet it is divinely moving and contemplative. In fact, any given salvo Frederick utters is likely bejeweled with an advanced quotient of depth. Occasionally the scope of what B/W offer isn't immediate and takes a few listens to unfurl, but Future Strangers offers a bevy of visceral charges in the guise of "Off You Go Redux!," the compelling title track, and "In My Head" which emanates a waft of frosty, post-punk entrails. If this album isn't their masterstroke it's at the very least one of their most poignant and affecting. Atom Records or Bandcamp have you covered should you opt top indulge (and yes, it's available on wax).
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