Thursday, February 28, 2013
Confession: I first came across these Pittsburgh purveyors of crunch-pop via the advertising sidebar on Facebook. "If you like Husker Du, you'll love..." Kinda reminds you of an old perfume campaign, huh? Along with familiar scents of those Twin Cities titans, a strong aroma of The Replacements engulfs the air inside Howlers (Satin Gum's hometown dive) on the YouTube clip of "Hip Shake Heartbreak." The window-backed stage is similar to the street view of Norfolk's Taphouse Grill, so the guys should feel comfortable when a gig for them is arranged there. Had Satin Gum come of age during DGC's heyday in the early 1990s, the fries-on-sandwich lovers would've traded bites with the likes of Teenage Fanclub, Sloan, The Posies and Weezer in crowded clubs and major magazines. True, an earlier EP served a different combo meal altogether with a heavy-rock presentation a la KISS and The Hellacopters, but the stacked creations of melodic meatiness have proven to be the most popular orders.
Away from the Iron City limits, a camping trip seems like a good way to decompress from the usual smokestacks. The decision to "Call You" after several sips from an unknown intoxicant, however, smolders any chance of becoming one with nature ("Four shots and I'm gonna have a heart attack/Ghosts in my sleeping bag"). A Swatch was a fashionable method for measuring hours and minutes in the freaky '80s, but "Forever" has its own indicator ("The last ten years felt like a lifetime/Come on, let's get high"). For combating post-romp hunger and battling potential loneliness, "Did You Know I Know Kung-Fu?" is an empty-hearted martial art. "My bed and my pillow keep me company" furnishes "The Weekend" retreat of one who "...can't ever see myself loving like that again."
Next time you're on Facecrack, pay attention to the margins. You just might be sold on something that's worth the Honus Wagner hustle.
Posted by Rutledge at 5:18 AM
Friday, February 8, 2013
Currently, the only T.S.O.L. (Does anyone other than Poindexter punks refer to the band as True Sounds Of Liberty?) disc in my pile marked "Stars 'N Stripes Punk" is the horror-informed Dance With Me. It was marked down to $1.99 in Musicland's (Pembroke Mall location) cheapo bin during a 1995 search, thus it joined a similarly priced Bad Brains live CD in the store's plastic bag. Jack Grisham's rich intonations and the group's tough 'n taut instrumentation certainly made for a Damned-good listening experience, but two subsequent efforts carved their initials more deeply into my cranium. Beneath The Shadows flipped like Grisham and friends turning the pages of UK stalwarts Magazine, via its distinctive vocal pitches and skillful flourishes in electronic noise. Joe Wood, Grisham's brother-in-law, took over frontman duties on the Change Today? follow-up and proved to be a prized pupil in the Morrison/Astbury/Danzig after-school choir. Elsewhere, the oft-jangly guitar propulsion suggested a trade involving Grisham, Peter Buck and a drummer to be named later. I largely missed out on the post-T.S.O.L. pill The Joykiller in the 1990s, but I'm pleased to ingest Grisham's latest tablet fresh from the bottle.
Joined by Paul Roessler (piano/organ/backing vocals/digital instrumentation), Sean Graves (guitars/bass/backing vocals) and Rob Milucky (electric guitar), Captain Jack steers the newly christened The Manic Low amidst pop-crested waves of varying heights. "Daylight Comes," the most valuable treasure in Songs For An Up Day's chest, beams with the heated intensity of a gold-plated Pete Shelley solo gem buried in submerged sand. Waking up is vital to greet each day with a salute, but permanent, sound sleep isn't a bad way to honorably discharge. If Duran Duran possessed more punk cred, maybe "Some Girls Own Me" would be a shining star on one of their short films. Surely, Simon Le Bon and company would agree that the hired models are "better left undressed." Liberation takes the wheel on "I'm Free," as Grisham turns his throat expressing the most powerful of feelings ("When you got the love, it's never gonna bring you down"). This heart beats like an outtake from the Beneath The Shadows days, but the blood flows with the velocity of a Buzzcocks composition from the "comeback" era. There's a new Bowie record out, huh? In spite of the title, "Choked Out In A Candy Store" could've been one of its finer moments of understatement. Elegant piano touches provide a sharp contrast to the mouthful-of-Brach's-butterscotch imagery.
Jack, I'll never refer to The Manic Low as T.M.L. You have my word on it.
Posted by Rutledge at 7:04 AM