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**Please do not reveal artist in comments!**
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In case you haven't noticed I'm way overdue for some reviews of current releases and reissues, and I'm going to try to address that over the course of the next few paragraphs. I appreciate everyone that has been gracious enough to set up vinyl and CDs. Being provided with physical media is more of a luxury than ever, and if I haven't been thoughtful enough to those who go to the trouble your generosity is appreciated. More critiques to come in the near-future, I might add.
Spandex. Breakdancing. Mullets. And just about dayglo-everything. For better or worse this is the world in which Long Island's Mosquitos were forced to toil and contend with. But guess what? They weren't having a lick of it. In fact, it would seem like this quintet hadn't gotten the bat signal that the world had evolved past say, 1966. Stuck in their own time-warp, not unlike similarly bespoke San Diego brethren The Nashville Ramblers, this quintet carved out a small niche within the environs of New York's power pop circuit alongside contemporaries The Bongos and Fleshtones, yet their antecedents were entirely steeped in British Invasion and Merseybeat pop, with nary an inclination to the present day - and you can take that literally. Their discography consisted of a well received 1985 ep, (That Was Then, This is Now), and if you want to get technical a few demo tapes, but that lone record was essentially all that was made available for public consumption - until 2023, which saw the release of the double CD This Then Are the Mosquitos, and the more concisely consolidated vinyl incarnation, In the Shadows.**Please do not reveal artist in comments!**
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01. Gashound
02. Hold Me Up
03. Let's End
04. Nothball
05. Ironlung
06. Cry a Little Bit
07. C'n Opn'r
08. If You're So Smart
09. Sundown
10. Diesel Down
11. How Long, Far?
12. Another Lonely Weekend
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Over the years I've featured titles that are bona fide classics (some far more renown than others) that have more than earned their installation in the echelons of indie/alt rock glory. I'm afraid the single I'm offering today isn't quite of that lofty caliber...though it's still certainly commendable. The hard scrabble, stick-it-to-the-man, ethos laid out on the comic strip gracing the sleeve of this 45 does indeed lend itself to the modus operandi of Liverpool's The High Five, albeit this quartet's delivery system wasn't particularly punk, pub, wave or the like. That doesn't render the band any less anthemic however, with these gents loosely conveying themselves as a kinder, gentler Big Country or Alarm. A full length, Down in the No-Go, followed in 1986, and I'm curious to lay ears on it to gauge what their inevitable progression yielded.
That being said, I'm not sure why I opted to take the plunge with Demo-itis, which technically isn't even a proper album, rather as it's title makes obvious, prototypes of songs to be pursued and perfected at a later date. Oddly enough, the vast majority of these songs (save for "If She Knew What She Wants" and "She's in Love Again") didn't make the cut for his bona fide solo records. As Demo's compiler, Sam Franklin is wont to point out in the liner notes, that's not so much a byproduct of these tunes being throwaways, rather the exact opposite - Jules Shear was so prolific and substantive that this collection exists as a means of salvaging many primo compositions that would have otherwise languished on the shelf.
I'm not sure exactly how many of this baker's dozen tracklist were actually sold or given to other artists to make their own, perhaps for two well known exception, "If She Knew..." which went to the Bangles for 1985's Different Light, and of course, the considerably more veritable hit "All Through the Night" which Cyndi Lauper ballad-ized and took to the bank. Jules' early incarnations of both future-hits sound a tad stiff held up to the more famous versions, yet somehow more earnest than the ones the general public became acquainted with. Elsewhere, there are plenty more invigorating guitar-pop salvos, including "Deliver Love," "Chain Within a Chain," and the aforementioned "She's in Love" which would have held up to just about anything on the first two Marshall Crenshaw albums. The driving "Trained For Glory" sports a rollicking, Dylan-esque air, "Eligible For Parole" wields Rockpile-ish punch galore, and the synth-endebted "Take The Risk" indulges in some mild concessions to the new wave era. Not bad for a record of glorified outtakes!
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Coral, much like Honor Role themselves, entailed a certain amount of concerted observation - probably too much so for someone like myself, circa 1994, who was besotted with the likes of The Posies and Jawbreaker. Time marches on, tastes become more refined, and the need for instant gratification wanes...and as such, a reassessment of the band in question was in order. The post-rock inch evidenced in H/R may not stretch a mile or even a kilometer in the guise of Coral, but I'll be damned if what I'm encountering on Pillowtalk isn't considerably more breathable, simultaneous to this band's frequent penchant for all things dissonant. Schick's sung/spoken patois blends in well with Coral's finagling of first generation-emo sonic leanings, yet never concedes to anything wrought or exaggerated. You'll certainly not unfurl any twee or precious niceties here, but this quartet falls well short of the abrasiveness of say, Fugazi or any of that legend's fill-in-the-blank Dischord Records stablemates. A torrent of incongruent minor chords goes a long way in coloring-in the tense, cerebral, and all-around obliqueness of Pillowtalk, an album that challenges and ever-so-subtly provokes. As I've said in reference to a copious amount of unrelated artists on these pages, this one is an acquired taste well worth acquiring.
News dropped earlier this year of an impending (and final) Red Lorry Yellow Lorry LP, Strange Kind of Paradise, to surface in the near-future along with some potentially accompanying eps to boot. To tide you over, check out a live 1992 concert that was made available via BandcampBandcamp a couple of years ago, bonus-ized with some modern-era studio tracks.
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Downtown NYC is not one of those legendary time capsules, like say, No, New York. documenting a certain niche, rather a mish mash of widely disparate genres, for the most part honing in on new and upcoming talent. The only real semblance of a unity here in fact is the opening cut, a euphoric, soulful spin on Petula Clark's "Downtown" by the impromptu Downtown Chorus featuring members from a handful of the other bands occupying this same 33 1/3, the Uptown Horns, Jerry Harrison, and I would imagine some session musicians to boot. The overall effect is that a of a lively Broadway cast recording. This leads into the album's finest moment, a just-under three-minute slice of guitar pop genius from Mark Johnson. "Breakin' Rocks" is a perfect-ten that sounds 100% inseparable from anything that might have jumped off the first two Marshall Crenshaw albums, and is quite literally worth every penny of this record's cut-out-bin admission. I'm flabbergasted and will be checking out the arears of this mans catalog soon. Surprisingly the only band featured here with any Wilfully Obscure overlap is Rude Buddha who's sassy "No More Gravy" is more nervy than anything on their 1985 Blister My Paint ep. As for Loup Garou, I was never a mark for zydeco, but damn, these gents are mightily adept at their craft.
Side two offers several pleasant surprises. Going into this, I wasn't at all familiar with the late Frank Maya, who was a comedian by trade, however more notably on "Polaroid Children" he's backed up on guitar by Naux, a one-time Voidoid and part of the creative heft behind China Shop, a rather arcane but rewarding artifact of New York's no-wave syndicate. Soma Holiday's syncopated synth-pop boasts more 1980s production indulgencies than one can shake a stick at, the absolutely frenetic and dissonant Ritual Tension are in prime under-your-skin form as usual, and Ok Savant whose discography consists of merely two compilation showings (this one included) involves the talents of Vernon Reid on "Rain."