Core Samples for July, 2003, features reviews of Ambulance!, A Northern Chorus, Joe Jackson Band, The Kills, Ted Leo/Pharmacists, Metallica, New Pornographers, Opeth, Quick Fix, Andrew Sandoval, Sadis Euphoria, Soilwork, Ben Taylor Band

Ambulance!
Ambulance!
TVT

I hate to resort to describing bands in terms of other bands, but sometimes I can't seem to find a better way to do it. That's the way it is with this band. Though their press kit touts them as revolutionaries (don't all press kits?) they owe some big debts. That's not to say that this is simply a rehash of old styles. I think what they do with what they use is very enjoyable listening, and I like this EP. It's just not a brand new bag. It's sort of like making a new sandwich out of favorite ingredients, just putting different ones together than you might usually. Ambulance! delivers mid-tempo, catchy songs with passing flavors of Big Star and 70's pop, and the poetic cadences of the spoken verses on "Primitive (The Way I Treat You)" are reminiscent of the Blue Aeroplanes, but the overall feel of this EP is Elliot Smith (complete with very Smithian piano) meets a mostly de-fuzzed My Bloody Valentine. The final track, "Young Urban," also has a Wondermints feel to it. If you like those bands, which I do, then you will probably like this, too.
Jen Grover

A Northern Chorus
Spirit Flags
Sonic Unyon

Hailing from Hamilton, Ontario, A Northern Chorus play atmospheric, shoe-gazing indie rock akin to the "Big Sky" sound of Ester Drang. Spirit Flags, the sextet's second release, is flooded with modest, slow moving sadness. Shimmering guitar lines are accented with flute and violin, as the vocals of singer Pete Hall whisper over the hazy melancholic brew. The disc occasionally climbs over a murmur, like on the tracks "Red Carpet Blues" and "Let the Parrots Speak for Themselves." But for the most part, A Northern Chorus favours the quiet more than the loud in the whole quiet/loud dichotomy. This isn't a bad thing by far. In fact, it is quite refreshing. The track "Mombassa" sounds like a homage to countrymen Godspeed You Black Emperor! with its simple building melodies and found voices. And the climbing chorus of the final track "Flag in Hand" seems to cut through the gauzy web of melancholy, briefly letting the sun in before the record ends. Spirit Flags is a lush and haunting disc that is a great escape from cocky garage rock or fake punk bands. Sad and lingering, something will pull you back to this record. Fans of Mogwai, Ester Drang or even Radiohead should give Spirit Flags a listen.
Andrew Murphy

Joe Jackson Band
Vol. 4
Restless Records/Rykodisc Records

Jackson had reunited with his original band, and this was the album that resulted from that reunion. That it sounds better than what might be expected from a reunion like this, and is amazing, is great for two reasons. One is that Jackson and the band have still got it, the magic that made them great, and he's never sung better. It also sounds like something that could have come out on his first two albums, both from 1979, Look Sharp and I'm The Man. It's like the last twenty-five years never happened, no hair metal, synth-pop, or grunge. If you don't remember, or are too young to remember, what original new wave/power pop sounded like, this is the album to find out with.

The highlights start with "Take It Like A Man," where you find out where Ben Folds got his sound. It's a relationship song in which the narrator is warning a woman friend not to treat her lover wrong. "Awkward Age" is both a look forward and a look back, where the main character identifies with a fifteen year old trying to become an adult, his own adult nerdy self, and ends with a plea to be yourself, whatever it takes.

"Love At First Light" is a beautiful ballad about a one-night stand, in which the person the main character is with is unmistakably male. That sets up one of the best songs on the album, "Fairy Dust." Jackson is gay, he came out years ago, and this is a gay rights anthem in the style of Tom Robinson's "Glad To Be Gay." He wasn't out in 1979, and I'm glad he didn't want to be too conservative, and skip this part of him. The album is worth buying for this song alone. Finally, "Thugs Are Us," puts down white rap and rap/metal fans for all the right reasons, like people who think they're hip by wanting to be Black, and is great ska-pop in a way that's not made anymore.

Most of the other songs drag a bit, but that's expected on a Joe Jackson album, and is why this is the first album I've bought from him. I've always liked him, but a lot of his songs were too dull on the whole for me to get into. But I'm glad I bought it, just to hear that the most lightweight of the big four English new wavers of the 70s, Elvis Costello, Graham Parker, and Nick Lowe being the other three, has made a better album than anything they are doing currently. This is pure punk from someone who used to be written off as a wannabe, but who proves to be more punk than any of them, and indeed just about all of what passes for punk these days. Buy it.
Andrea Weiss

The Kills
Keep On Your Mean Side
Domino Records

The Kills need no aggressive display of testosterone to prove their mean side. In fact, they're all the more authentic without it. Like Mick and Iggy, the Kills have a swagger, The Kills have the Blues and, when The Kills are in town, everyone's invited to the party. Perhaps post-modern in approach, meshing vintage fancies with selected modern technologies, The Kills essentially seem to yearn for the Delta Blues simplicity so revered by The White Stripes. Reminiscent of Rid Of Me-era PJ Harvey also, Keep On Your Mean Side is not a record without associations, but The Kills comfortably manage to corner a sound of their own. Former member of Scarfo, Hotel (guitars, drums, vocals) makes up the London contingent of The Kills, whilst Floridian V.V. (vocals, guitar) completes the Anglo-American, boy/girl partnership. The style is Bluesy, but the sound retains a sense of urban frustration - a concoction reminiscent of Primal Scream's recent explorations. Keep On Your Mean Side feels equally at home as the soundtrack to a frenzied road trip through the Deep South as it does to a binge on London's dusky, neon streets.

Sleek and edgy, The Kills steer clear of the theatrical eccentricities that burden so many of their contemporaries. Typified by their simple but chic, cutting-edge web domain, www.thekills.tv, which features images dripping with Seventies TV fuzz cool, the band's style is all retro and rough edges, with a sound stripped to its very core. Opening track "Superstition" eases the listener into a darkly enticing world of trippy vocals and pulsing beats, all within a dazed aural crawl. Next up, "Cat Claw" is a mesmerising chunk of dirty rock 'n' roll, with V.V. almost out-snarling legendary "riot grrls" Kim Gordon and Patti Smith. Struggling to contain an apparent split personality, she oozes vulnerable soothing moans one minute, and violent sexual threat the next. "Got my head stuck in a cat claw," she growls, "Come on, Sugar!" like an invitation into untold pleasure and certain destruction. The track is two and a half minutes of the finest commotion rock 'n' roll can be.

To follow, new vinyl-only (there's that vintage simplicity issue again) single "Pull A U" is a slower stomp of a track that offers vicious guitar scratching from Hotel and a string of hip, New Orleans-esque lyrics, "Pull a U in your gypsy car, got your black magic and your two-dollar luck," V.V. snarls. "Fuck The People" is mere apathetic rant, but features the catchiest of Blues-stomp rhythms, whilst "Kissy Kissy" seems pure Velvet Underground. A beautiful but woozy trip into the push/pull of yearning and fulfilment, the track features Hotel's sleepy vocal repeating the central lyric, "It's been a long time coming," over and over. The atmosphere would be unnaturally calm, given the feisty nature of The Kills' sound, but V.V. soon joins in and, with her vocal always on the brink of angst-ridden holler, the listener is never entirely at ease. Former single "Fried My Little Brains" offers the band a chance to hit full swagger. The verse sees Hotel's drum and guitar tracks tease in correlation with his and V.V.'s joint vocal, and, just as the listener finds pattern in the broken rhythm, a charging stomp erupts that would make even Bonzo proud. In an age of flamboyant over-production and vast multi-layering, the band's greatest achievement is retaining so grand an output from such basic means.

"Gypsy & You" is an almost inaudible, scuzzed-up recording of V.V. talking to herself and, along with various other similar snippets throughout the album, seems part of a conscious attempt to create a sense of voyeurism and information-overload. These sound bites do add to the atmosphere of confusion, but they can become tiresome. In time they may make more sense within the broader context of the record, but at first listen, as The Kills entice with the absorbing grooves of their upbeat music tracks (like "Hitched" and "Hand"), the spoken word deviations feel like a wasted opportunity for the band to have included even more lively songs (perhaps even their fantastic cover of Beefheart's "Dropout Boogie"). But, having said that, it's always better to leave the listener hungry than overfed, and The Kills certainly stir up great anticipation for their next release.

The Mean Side evoked by The Kills is one of mortal danger, sexual energy and hip-swerving Delta Blues. As the vogue for "style over content" sweeps through all areas of music, and creative visionaries are increasingly forsaken for Rolling Stone cover gods, The Kills largely avoid the trappings of so many others, who force image to hide musical shortcomings. The Kills' vocal tones are as capable and captivating as their guitar sounds are bitterly dark, and Hotel has an uncanny knack for creating riffs that probably have been done a thousand times before but that sound more fresh and true than anything I've heard in a long time. It has never felt so good to be mean - and never has jagged, deadbeat music been so much fun.

The Kills debut record screams of promise - the wise had better stay on their good side.
[www.thekills.tv]
Alex Amodeo

Ted Leo/Pharmacists
Hearts of Oak
Lookout! Records

"Pop snobs always think that the bands they love have been treated unfairly, that their failure is evidence of a tasteless, ignorant and tone-deaf world," writes Nick Hornby in his wonderful essay collection Songbook (reviewed last month-search the archives), "but the truth is that invariably these bands are too quiet, too anonymous, too ugly, too smart and they've spent too much time listening to Chris Bell and the Replacements instead of dressing up, taking drugs, trying out make-up and picking up fourteen-year-olds." Having read this, fans of Ted Leo would probably be quick to identify "too smart" as the reason why he is destined to remain trapped in obscurity. Leo is a particularly knotty and complex lyricist, filling his songs with big words (try finding another rock album whose lyrics include words like abjure, apostasy, fungible and ossify), wordplay ("I set off in search of my forbears/'Cause my forbearance was in need," he sings in "The Ballad of Sin Eater") and historical references (from the same song, "And the French Foreign Legion/You know they did their best/But I never believed much in T.E. Lawrence/So how the hell could I believe in Beau Gest?"), all of which are sure to alienate those who don't like their lyrics to get any more difficult than "wave your hands in the air like you just don't care."

And while no one is likely to mistake Leo for Justin Timberlake or John Mayer, particularly on the rather grumpy looking cover photo of Hearts of Oak, he and his band the Pharmacists are brash and exuberant rather than quiet and anonymous. I don't know who he counts as his influences, but listening to Hearts of Oak it is very easy to pick them out. The band is tight and energetic in the rock-as-filtered-through-early-punk style of the Jam, backing up Leo's frantic verbal sprints in much the same way that the Attractions did on early Elvis Costello albums like This Year's Model and Armed Forces. Leo's own vocals are like a cross between the enthusiastic theatricality of Bob Geldof and the earnest boyishness of The Loud Family's Scott Miller (speaking of artists who have been unfairly ignored by the tone-deaf public) and while this is an unabashedly retro sounding album, it isn't even retro in any of the currently fashionable ways. It looks, then, like Leo is to remain an underappreciated cult figure but if this is the case, it is a cult that is certainly worth joining.
[www.lookoutrecords.com]
Jer Fairall

Metallica
St.Anger
Elektra

I still remember the first time I heard Metallica. I was lying in my bed late one summer night listening to the radio, the local rock station, a station that today willingly plays Metallica in prime time, but at that time, to hear Metallica even at 12am was very unusual. I remember they played "Fade to Black" from Ride the Lightning. To say I was blown away is an understatement. Needless to say, I went out and bought Ride the Lightning as soon as I could. I hyped Metallica at school, and received the standard ridicule and funny looks that come with praising obscure, underground things (music, film, political ideologies). I saw them open for Ozzy on their Master of Puppets tour, and I swear I was the only one in the building that could sing along with every song. Fast forward a bit to the "black album." It was a bit more stripped down, but cool. Their fame grew, my interest waned. Then Load and Reload. The swamp rock experiment took some getting used to, but there are some cool tunes on those discs. But by then Metallica was no longer mine; they belonged to the world. I had moved on, so the pain was slight. I mean, I still respected them and all, but my interests in music were elsewhere. Then one day there was an accident near the members of Metallica and they were all exposed to large amounts of helium, and their heads expanded. They began thinking of money over music and sued anyone who even though of naming anything that began with the letters M-E. They disappeared musically. And in that time other bands in the metal genre have taken what Metallica created and expanded on it and reinvented it tenfold. Now they return with St. Anger, and if this is the best they can do, they'd better just retire. I'll admit that I basically hate Metallica now, more for their recent napster actions and other lawsuits than their music. So, you can consider this review biased. But there are no remotely interesting songs on St. Anger. No, let me rephrase that. The songs are annoying. I hear garbage all the time, and for the most part I can live with it. But then there is "music" that is so bad or contrived that it actual prods me to anger and annoyance. That's what St. Anger does to me. The sound quality is terrible. The drums sound like pie plates, the guitars are all muddy and sort of fade into the background, with no guitar solos, and the vocals swerve off key several times. Producer Bob Rock came out to state that the "poor" sound quality was all on purpose. This somehow makes it worse than if it was due to absentmindedness or the lack of proper recording facilities. St. Anger is simply a weak attempt by aging icons to seem cutting edge and relevant, but just comes across as a lackadaisical effort done to reap the media windfall of returning heroes. What St. Anger delivers may seem fine to the baseball capped jock that needs some aggressive tunes to lift weights by and doesn't know any better, and judging by past actions, Metallica is probably fine with that. But for the rest of us, this is another betrayal of creditability. I look at it this way: Metallica created something unique at the time and took it to a certain level, and that's all they had. Other bands have started at Metallica's high point and added to it, reshaped it, improved on it. Babe Ruth was one of the best baseball players of his time and accomplished great things for his time, but players of today have matched or surpassed a lot of his accomplishments. It's a new game. And let's face it, if Babe Ruth was playing today, he would be hard pressed to lay down a good bunt.
Andrew Murphy

New Pornographers
Electric Version
Mint Records

There is some argument swirling about whether the New Pornographers are a "super-group." Well, I consulted my dictionary and I can say with confidence that the New Pornographers are a "group." Whether they are "super" is a silly argument. I mean, isn't that label reserved for collectives including people that a wide audience has heard of? Now, I'm sure more than a handful of people have heard of Neko Case, but probably fewer have heard of Carl Newman of Zumpano fame, or Destroyer's Dan Bejar. Anyways, let us stop arguing and simply bask in the perfect and poppy glow of the group's second disc, Electric Version. As I wait for a new Morrissey record, Electric Version fills my musical void for intelligent, literate pop songs. And though deceptively simplistic, there is real song craft at work here. Complex structure and overlapping melodies fill this record to a sickly hilt. Newman and Bejar are masters of the pop song. They unabashedly wear their influences of the Beatles, Kinks and David Bowie on their sleeves. From the title track to "the New Face of Zero and One" to "It's Only Divine Right," this is a solid indie pop record. And do I need to mention Neko Case? Her beautiful voice, whether she's on lead or back-up vocals, just adds to this perfect pop concoction. I always found that on the group's debut that the songs on which Case sung lead were the best. Her role is a bit diminished on Electric Version, but still essential to the New Pornographers' sound. Smart, catchy, and undeniably well written, the New Pornographers have outdone themselves with Electric Version. I can't really see want more you'd want from a record. Except maybe it to be free. Well, that isn't going to happen, so save the beer bottles and treat yourself. So I'll just shut up now and let you get back to arguing.
Andrew Murphy

Opeth
Damnation
Koch/Music for Nations

It is often said that Opeth is death metal with soul. Not James Brown type of soul, which in my opinion isn't soul at all, but just libido in overdrive. Opeth is more poetic, touchy-feely soul. Y'know the thing that chicks say they dig but really don't. Anyways, this is said about Opeth because within their lengthy compositions, sandwiched between complex and heavy death metal riffing and growling vocals are soft acoustic passages with beautifully sung vocals. Opeth isn't afraid to write full songs displaying their softer side, either. Examples: "Benighted" from Still Life or "To Bid You Farewell" from Morningrise. So this got Opeth fans wondering if the Swedish fab four would ever consider putting out a whole disc of "non-metal" tracks. Well, ask and you will receive. Damnation is a full album of acoustic based progressive rock pieces; and is the companion piece to the more traditional Deliverance, which was released in November. Damnation is a relatively quiet and always downhearted album, and though it climbs to threaten the rage that Opeth has displayed on past discs, it never explodes into death metal fury. Organ, piano and mellotron accent tracks such as "Closure," "Death Whispered a Lullaby," and "To Rid the Disease," while frontman Mikael Akerfeldt's voice delicately dances over top, full of gloom and withering hope. The disc continues the suppressive, heavy air of melancholy, mortality, and descent into madness so explicit on Deliverance. Akerfeldt's lyrics pick out everyday mundane items like windowpanes and dressers, and turn them into icons of fading lives. Damnation redefines what metal can be to the average person, displaying the depth of talent and musicianship that metal musicians possess. They are not lesser musicians, who play metal because they are not talented enough to play other types of music. Metal is a very complex form of music, disrespected because of its dissonance and subject matter. Opeth deserves the same respect generally reserved for jazz and classical musicians, for what they do, not just on Damnation, but on all of their other masterpieces, is just as complex, emotive, and groundbreaking as anything Miles Davis or Phillip Glass have ever done. You don't have to be an Opeth fan to enjoy Damnation or, for that matter, a metal fan. You just need to have a twinge of sadness in your heart and an appreciation of masterfully played and highly imaginative music.
Andrew Murphy

Quick Fix
The Push
Lonesome Recordings

From the atmospheric keyboard that begins "21st Century Boy," it is very easy to tell that this was not the same Quick Fix that just eighteen months earlier released the charging hard rock masterwork Animal Love. The acoustic guitar that follows is the first time such a thing has been used on a Quick Fix record, and they're all the better for it. By the time the "Sick" begins exactly three minutes later, the hard rock returns, but it's a different feel than before. It's more spacious this time out.

The music is more melody driven than energy driven this time out. Don't get me wrong, there is plenty of energy to spare with this band. Songs like "Do Us A Favor," " Discipline," and "Last Chance For Action" charge along at a pace that could rival the best songs on Animal Love. By adding a more melodic sense, Jake Zavracky actually added layers of intensity to the songs that were not present on their previous two records. The ballad quotient here is increased. "The Air Around Us," "Love Is Like Ephedrine," "Adrenaline Junkies," and the aforementioned "21st Century Boy" may carry the dreaded "power ballad" tag, but they are given the same care and rage (for lack of a better word) as any of their rockers. "Goodnight" is an unsurprisingly fitting closer to this record with its oft-repeated refrain "Now it's time...to say...goodnight" over swirling guitars that wouldn't be out of place on a Smashing Pumpkins record...well maybe not Adore.

This is one of those occasions where the follow-up to a masterpiece is a masterpiece in itself, but for a completely different reason. Clocking in at just under 40 minutes, this is one of those records that would have made the perfect vinyl LP. I wholeheartedly recommend repeated listening, because all of its qualities won't immediately jump out at you. By the fourth or fifth spin, you won't want to listen to anything else for a while.

Now if only 4 million people would go get this instead of that godawful Metallica record....
[http://www.quickfixrock.com] [http://www.lonesomerecordings.com]
Phil Fleming

Andrew Sandoval
Happy to be Here
The Bus Stop Label

Who is Andrew Sandoval? He's a man who likes vintage Volvos (that's his award winning car on the album's cover), tabby cats, and what was going on in Brian Wilson's mind circa 1966. You've seen his name before, in the credits on Monkees reissues on Rhino. Sandoval knows his pop. He makes good pop his work, and, fortunately for us, his play as well.

Sandoval's second full-length, Happy to be Here, is like a thrift store find that makes your day. It's lovely and intimate and is the type of music you'd want to listen to as you recline on a beach chair with a good book, the first day of the year it is warm enough to do so. It's an excellent follow-up to A Beautiful Story, Sandoval's album debut from a few years back, and that was a hard act to follow, indeed.

What's it like musically? Imagine if Joe Pernice and Glenn Tilbrook went to a summer camp run by Brian Wilson and Rod Argent, then came back that August to school and taught Sandoval how to tie a Figure-eight knot during recess. The music is gentle, melodic and heartfelt, and no, it doesn't sound like Belle and Sebastian. His influences are superb, but Sandoval takes them and makes music that is truly his own.

The standout tracks for this listener are "He Can Fly," a gorgeous little gem about a flying cat (with feline guest vocals) that is guaranteed to bring a smile to your face, and "It May Never Happen," a majestic and lush 12-string trip that Roger McGuinn couldn't do any better.

Be warned:

This record is delicious and habit forming.
Mark Staples

Sadis Euphoria
Instinct/Obsession
Willowtip

Okay, I'll keep this short. Plain and simple, this is death/grind; brutal, punishing riffs, sick guttural vocals (with a few screams for good measure) and maybe some blastbeats.You know the drill. If you don't already listen to this stuff, you'll probably just think it's a bunch of noise. But for the trained ear Sadis Euphoria are far from noise. They have the good sense to mix up their low end brutality with clean guitar intros and passages and by slowing the tempo down, though they don't really play that fast overall. But just the fact that they don't feel they have to rely on speed is a plus, because we all know that can get boring fast. Instinct/Obsession is actually quite catchy in spots. Not sing-along catchy. More like "yeah I get this" catchy. This Pittsburgh foursome gets in a groove every now and again to drag you in and pummel you. The sticker on the front of the disc said Instinct/Obsession is "forward thinking death metal," and I would have to agree. Not Opeth or Alchemist forward thinking. More like "we're not necessarily going to do what you think we are going to do" forward thinking. You just get a sense that Sadis Euphoria are trying their best not to just rehash this sub-genre's conventions and stereotypes, and for the most part they succeed. My only complaint with this CD is that the sound quality differs from song to song. Now it's not like it goes from really professional to Darkthrone quality, it's just that some songs sound a tad muddier than others, and the drums have a different sound from song to song. I mean, this is a small complaint; and it shouldn't stop anyone from checking these guys out, but I believe honesty in the basis of a good relationship. In the end Instinct/Obsession is a slightly off kilter slab'o death that is oddly enjoyable and varied enough that it doesn't get annoying.
Andrew Murphy

Soilwork
Figure Number Five
Nuclear Blast

A Friend summed up the new Soilwork CD like this: "Some CDs are like a heavy, thick lager that you have to acquire a taste for and some CDs are like a can of Coke. And I like a Coke once in awhile." It went something like that. I don't think he used the word "lager," but you get the point. That point being that beginning with last year's critically acclaimed Natural Born Chaos, Soilwork have made a conscious effort to focus on the "melodic" part of their melodic death metal sound. And where some felt that Natural Born Chaos swung the pendulum too much to the melodic side, Figure Number Five nudges it back a bit to re-establish an equilibrium in sound. Pre-hype of Figure Number Five had me a bit scared of the end result. I really liked Natural Born Chaos, but it was about five steps away from Disturbed. Which is ten steps too close. So with the press saying that the new songs were more melodic, I thought I would get N'SYNC with distortion. But Figure Number Five is actually a heavier, darker and rawer album than NBC. Soilwork have written some very catchy songs, but they rely way too much on the verse-chorus-verse template, which gives the whole album a bit of a frustrating sameness. After a dozen listens all the way through, I found myself skipping to my favourite tracks. Now there isn't a lame song in the lot; and tracks like "Rejection Role," "Figure Number Five," and "Distortion Sleep" are some of the best songs Soilwork has written, but some songs sound a bit too much like cheaper versions of others on the disc. I blame this totally on the fact that the band took less than a year from the release of Natural Born Chaos to write and record Figure Number Five. A little more time would have yielded more diverse songs, and created a more memorable album. This was the problem with NBC, as well. I spun it a few dozen times, but I don't really play it much at all now, and I can see this happening with Figure Number Five. I mean, if you want heavy, thrashy, totally catchy metal, this is the album to get, and this is the stuff that should be in rotation ad nausea on the MTVs of the world. But it's as deep as that kiddie pool in your neighbour's backyard. I'm sure older Soilwork fans are P.O.ed more than before because of the clean vocals a la In Flames in the song "Departure Plan." And truth be told, if Soilwork thinks that they will become huge by becoming more melodic and unfortunately more repetitive, they are smoking the drapes. In the end, Figure Number Five will probably make my year end top 10 list. That is if I remember how much I enjoyed it 7 months ago.
Andrew Murphy

Ben Taylor Band
Famous Among The Barns
Iris Records

This is the debut from someone who could have been a big deal if he had chosen to be. Ben Taylor is the son of James Taylor and Carly Simon, and he could have asked them to help him get started, done the major label thing, had hits, and so on.

He could have sounded just like Dad, or Mom, and doesn't. Superficially, he sings like his dad, and has his folks' talent for songwriting, but takes it places where they would never think to go to. I don't think James or Carly would have written a song like "Let It Grow," about legalizing pot, even in their 70s heyday, or "Island," which is about being just that, and the total opposite of his folks' "I'm okay, you're okay" stuff.

This is folk/grunge, with a little bit of the modern hippie jam band thing thrown in, so it's not as depressing or angry as grunge, nor is it too neo Grateful Dead. Taylor is smart enough not to go too far in one direction or another, and he's learned well the musical lessons grunge, punk, folk, and jamming have taught him. Lyrically these songs are somewhat trippy, but not overtly so, happy in general, but with a solemnity that gives everything a good balance of light and dark.

My only complaint is that the album is too ordinary, which is the real surprise here. His folks broke so much ground for singer/songwriters, and I would have thought this would be the one thing Taylor would want to emulate. But this is a debut, so I'm cutting him some slack, and Taylor has enough raw talent to make me think that he will correct this on later albums.

There is always the temptation to compare singers with famous musical parents to one another. In that respect he sounds the most like Rufus Wainwright, and that's good, as I like Wainwright a lot. I don't care for Jacob Dylan or Julian Lennon at all, and hate to think how bad Taylor could have sounded. So I would try him, even though his album could have been more than it is. At a time when singer/songwriters are a dime a dozen, and getting hype that sometimes outshines their talent, it's nice to know someone has said no to all of that. This is what indies are for, to forge your own path. Taylor is certainly doing that, and I salute him for it.
[bentaylorband.com] [www.irisrecords.com]
Andrea Weiss