From 2004. There isn't a moment of this album that I don't enjoy.**Please do not reveal artist in comments!**
You say you've never heard of a band from San Antonio, TX? You have now, and as luck would have it they were a good one. Meet Lung Overcoat, new wave denizens from the Lone Star state who oozed copious loads of promise on this four songer. Perhaps these youngsters didn't lob the beefiest hooks on the block, but Climbing Up the Hill is an ambitious mofo of a record with dense arrangements and subtly veiled socio-political themes that plot these cats wiser than their collective 80 years... or so it would seem anyway. At times Overcoat pitched in the direction of a less danceable Duran or Japan, yet were inflicted with just enough artful maneuvers and post-punk inclinations to keep them from taking the pedestrian plunge. "Life in Holes" is my pick of this all too brief litter. Check out In Depth Music Blog's excursion into the guys, with all kinds of tasty YouTube linkage and such.
Soul Asylum were clearly on a roll - one that perpetuated through their first major label outing, Hang Time. '88s Clam Dip and Other Delights ep isn't necessarily part of that volley, as it were, given it wasn't a proper album. Instead, the six-song hodgepodge with the spot-on Herb Alpert and Tijuana Brass album jacket parody is a collection of loosely executed covers and some outtakes yielding jovial but mixed results. One of the standouts, "Chains," was originally the invention of another Minneapolis act, The Wad, that Soul Asylum keenly transform into an essential missing link of their own. There were two versions of Clam Dip making the rounds, depending on what side of the Atlantic you obtained it on, but Omnivore's reissue includes all the songs from both incarnations. Four Twin/Tone-era outtakes conclude the CD incarnation of the reissue. While You Were Out and an expanded version of Clam Dip are available separately on vinyl. Physical versions are available now straight from Omnivore, and Amazon has you covered as well.
Recently had a request for this one, and an interesting pick at that. Taking Look Around's album sleeve at face value you might reckon Lawrence, KS' Start were on the same wavelength as the Smiths or Rain Parade. Not completely off the mark, but this trio's inclinations were more disparate than that. The first side emanates some choice, left-of-the-dial leaning pop, like the Wurlitzer-spiked "Empty Rooms" and the even more coveted "Where I Want to Be," oozing with chiming guitar strains and DIY ethos that might as well have predicted what Brit indie titans-to-be Primal Scream would have in store just a couple years later. Very much on the Postcard Records tip I might add. Side two gets a lot more unpredictable, commencing with "Little Fish/Big Fish," featuring none other than Allen Ginsberg reciting a poem regarding U.S. involvement in Central America atop these guys providing the music bed. A bit disorienting at first, but somewhat fascinating on return visits. Word has it Start had connections to William Burroughs as well. "My Town" prominently features trumpet, and is almost another harbinger of mid-80s UK indie pop. Problem is the band didn't bother to insert a hook anywhere. As for the remainder of Look Around, there's not much else that's overwhelmingly effective, but not unsatisfactory either.
So I was never quite bitten by the House of Large Sizes bug, as it were. Then again I know of no one else that was either, so maybe I'm not in the minority for once. In my reexamination of the subject three decades on, I would submit to you this co-ed Cedar Rapids, IA trio may have been on the right wavelength after all. "Man Overboard!" is nearly four minutes of convincing, riffy indie-rock with a delectable guitar line and ironic observations. The guitars get even stockier on the subsequent "Eisonhower," though a diminished semblance of melody and Dave Deibler's obnoxious vocal parlance threatens to collapse his band's humble abode. Over on side two, "Cold-train" is redeeming and rollicking, loosely in the same ballpark as period Meat Puppets. As for "40 Orange Cookies." one gets the impression the tune isn't necessarily about food. From what little I've been able to glean online, these songs were re-cut for HoLS' first album, One Big Cake.
The latter part of this '80s band's discography. A unique and invigorating take on punk with intermittent assaults of funk, plus a few choice anomalies that I never, ever tire of. There's 31 songs on this sucker, so check out the comments for a few suggested cuts to get you started.
Yet another substantial indie rock proposition from the '90s that passed me by at the time. Motor Home (which I've also seen spelled as a single word) were a trio of co-ed Chicago kids who were adeptly in tune with the aesthetic of the time. Side A, "Whole In My Head" is female fronted, wielding a comparatively mellow, but dynamic vibe sporting shades of the Spinanes and early Lilys, but not overly derivative of either. The flip, "Sugarlow" is considerably noisome and aggro, pounded out with the fuzzy, distortion-addled fury of contemporaries Monsterland, taking a good five and a half minutes to finish off the listener's sizzled nerves. The packaging for this one was unique and went way above and beyond what's normally expected with your typical pic sleeve 45. Motor Home were also responsible for an album around the same era that I anticipate getting my hands and ears around soon.
So, what's stopped me from posting anything from Kitchens of Distinction? This probably has to do with the fact that most of their catalog is still available - but then I remembered...b-sides. Truthfully, I'm sharing this for the a-side, the sublime "Drive That Fast," which had me enamored from the word go, almost thirty some years ago now. Alongside Swervedriver's "Mustang Ford," The Kitchens brought the car song to dream-pop, though I would venture to guess neither band had that particular end in mind. Patrick Fitzgerald's caterwaul/croon gracefully sits atop a bed of Julian Swales atmospheric, chiming guitars, sounding nothing short of ripped from a primo Cocteau Twins record. In fact, nothing off the band's subsequent LP, Strange Free World could quite rival it, but nonetheless manages to stand as their finest hour.
Not to be confused withe the Boston band of the same (coincidentally featured here a few years ago) the Rods and Cones I'm sharing today were a more economical three-piece set up, situated in the less urban locale of Bloomington, IN. Guitar pop with varying dosages of power was their calling card and they played it capably, if perhaps half a step or two shy of the mainstream. Their approach was plenty accessible, but thankfully not as gaudily decked out as the drivel that say, Huey Lewis and his dudes were crapping out around the same time. The Rods thing was more in league with Tommy Tutone and later Knack. "Hypnotize Women" and "Useless Knowledge" were cheeky riff-rockers with ample bite, bearing enough commercial prowess to land on AOR playlists of the day...though I'm not sure if that scenario ever came to fruition. Rods and Cones winds things down with a novel acoustic reading of the Peanuts theme (lazily titled "Charlie Brown") before seguing into one last original. BTW, the band reunites every Christmas for a local performance. Visit the link above to be delivered to their Facebook page for evidence of this.
Something has always fascinated me about rural/small town indie rock, maybe because there seems to be so little of it. Signal Thirty, ostensibly hailing from Paducah, KY, could have conveniently chosen to season their ears on such mainstream purveyors of
the day as Def Leppard or John Cougar Mellencamp, but I tend to think
their collective tastes ran a little deeper than the Top-ten. Said to have
been recorded over the course of Memorial Day weekend in '87, Purpose sounds like a dandy way to have killed three days. Varying from twangy, albeit skewed roots rock, to jangly REM-isms, this trio never quite settles on a singular penchant here, yet manages to keep the entire affair structured. Purpose really gets cooking on side two, with brisk keepers like "Wild With Me," "(The Adventures of) Laritasm," and "Some Sweet Day" all exuding verve and zest, not to mention a homegrown aplomb that occasionally floats in the vicinity of what the Meat Puppets had up their sleeves around the same time. Solid stuff. The record ends in somewhat uncharacteristic fashion with a medley of the reverent country ballad "Wings of a Dove" and the theme to Petticoat Junction.