Local music explosion

More new releases than you can listen to in a month

By Sam Pfeifle and Josh Rogers

What could be a more clear sign of a thriving local music scene than a slew of new releases bombarding local music-store shelves? In the next week, the Seacoast region will see at least six CD-release parties from local bands, and the weeks that follow are jam-packed with even more. Portland, Portsmouth, and everywhere between, above, and below are simply hopping with great musicians continuing to put their collective noses to the grindstone so that you, the music lover, can have fresh material for your CD players. So, since we’re putting out the “Band Guide” this week anyway, we thought we’d pull out all the stops and try to review at least some of this CD extravaganza:

WHO ARE THEY NOW?: Now is Now release Transitions.

**1/2 Now is Now TRANSITIONS (A Lot of Records). One of the problems with Now is Now is that it’s difficult to get a bead on what exactly Now is Now is: trio, solo act, alt-rock band, singer-songwriter? There’s nothing wrong with versatility, but it can often hamper consistency. Sometimes you’ll see Mitch Alden playing solo acoustic happy hours at the Free Street Taverna, calling himself Now is Now. This is the act you hear on “Sail Away,” as intricate finger picking gives way to delicate vocals along the lines of “singing songs from inside of me.” High-register backup vocals from Lindi cement a pretty number not far from a Rufus Wainwright or an Elliot Smith. Other times you’ll see Mitch Alden backed by, say, the guys from the Reedlings, playing on the State Theatre stage, still as Now is Now, and they turn into a pretty good pop-rock outfit. This is the sort of thing you’ll find in “Daydream,” though here on the album Alden is backed by bassist Jon Bistline and drummer Louis Dugal. The supporting cast performs admirably. With its forays into falsetto, the tune bends toward a melancholy Coldplay number, but with a slightly more rock sentiment.

In fact, everything on this album sounds pretty good. It just doesn’t really sound like a cohesive album. “Into Darkness” has some great chunky rock guitars that get damn near uplifting mid-way through the tune, balancing out some Irish-pop vocals from Alden. If the choruses were a little more aggressive, the tune could even qualify as Green Day pop-punk. But what a contrast to “Down,” a quiet piece more along the lines of Semisonic or Stone Temple Pilots in their acoustic days. Alden’s voice is at its best (lost is that Irish brogue), and the splash cymbal and slow strum lend a great alt-country feel. Between these two is “Heaven Helps,” featuring a transcendent chorus, but here employing some voice distortion while Alden’s consistent rhythm guitar holds the song together. There’s also a Led Zeppelin– sounding instrumental in “Transitions.”

Fans who have been awaiting this album for the past nine months or so should be happy that the very creative Alden has finally brought his many songwriting tacks to CD, but may be disappointed with the fact that there are only nine songs, and that the disc seems to have suffered from being produced over a long period of time.

— Sam Pfeifle

Now is Now play a CD-release show, at RiRa, in Portland, October 18. Call (207) 761-4447.

** 1/2 THE VIM & VIGOUR OF ALVARIUS B AND CERBERUS SHOAL (Stella White). The second installment in the ongoing volley of Cerberus Shoal split-CDs is both a step upwards in vision and scope for the series, and a step sideways in evolution for the band. Where the first split CD was hampered by Shoal’s pairing with an uninteresting European folk-rock band, this one benefits from their collaboration with Sun City Girl Alan Bishop (Alvarius B). And that’s what makes it interesting: It’s a truly collaborative effort, with Alvarius B arranging and performing a Shoal tune (their “Ding” sounds all Leonard Cohen in his hands) and Shoal doing the same for two Alvarius B songs. You also get to hear the original versions as recorded by the writers. This trading and processing of one another’s songs enriches the listening experience, allowing each band to comment on, pay homage to, translate, or trash the other’s work.

Alvarius B’s “Bloody Baby” is an incredibly dark gobbledygook (with some lyrics contributed by Cerberus Shoal’s Karl Greenwald) made all the more creepy by its production — Bishop’s vocals high and lonely in the cloying mix, while his poorly recorded acoustic guitar seems so close it’s creepy. Shoal’s version, on the other hand, is cheaply theatrical and emptily expansive. Occasional horn vamps sound gaudy and bombastic, as a full chorus opens up the song to a more public space, robbing it of its power as a small, private song. Likewise, Cerberus turns Bishop’s “Viking Christmas” into a beer-hall singalong, their voices uniting in nasally unison, while the clink of glasses and a murmuring, disinterested crowd echo endlessly in what sounds like a gigantic room. In the decentralized communal mind of Cerberus Shoal, the idea of a chorus may be more appealing than the outmoded notion of a lead singer, but here, at least, it sounds like they’ve fallen victim to a “trance of community,” as they sing on the bookending “Ding,” the disc’s best song and best hope for the future direction of the band’s latest lineup.

In a marathon 18 minutes, the group sketches out lost love, Portland in wintertime, and seasonal depression. The poetic/writerly elements of the lineup find a perfect synthesis with the group’s more musical members as the song fades in on the sound of a writer typing. A simply picked guitar enters and a woman’s voice weaves a long, oblique tale. Before long, the guitar gives way to haunting glock and jew’s harp, the typewriter keeps tapping away as if writing the song as it progresses, an instrument in itself. The singer’s voice is finally joined by the chorus, and this time, the song finds strength in community.

— Josh Rogers

Cerberus Shoal play a CD-release show, at the Skinny, in Portland, October 26. Call (207) 871-8983.

 

*** 1/2 Alan Shavarsh Bardezbanian and his Middle Eastern Ensemble FROM KEF TO CLASSICAL (Cultural Exchange Discs). Approaching this disc from the vantage point of one not all-too familiar with Middle Eastern music, I find it spirited, emotive, well played, and (much of the time) danceable, all qualities that make From Kef to Classical worthy of investigation. Bardezbanian, perhaps more well-known to local folks as Al Gardner, provides a survey of musical forms from his grandparents’ Armenia, as well as Greek, Bulgarian, and Arabic songs, and a handful of originals.

It’s precisely this mix between classical, solo-heavy forms (“Yeraz”), traditional folk songs (“Anatolian Memories”), and instantly memorable originals (“Aleko’s Kalamatiano”) that makes this collection a great introduction to Middle Eastern musical genres (if you don’t have any background knowledge about a particular genre, it’s tough to listen to a whole album of classical ragas, for instance, and discern the differences). And the song selection is enhanced by Bardezbanian’s crack oud-playing and the precise musicianship of the Ensemble — Bau Graves, tarpigh’s Eric LaPerna, David Hill, Beth Borgerhoff, and Mike Gallant. For those seeking an introduction, Bardezbanian will help you skim the surface of Middle Eastern music. For aficionados, this disc travels deeply into the territory of instrumental virtuosity.

— Josh Rogers

 

ANNI IS OKAY: Clark’s Big Water boasts tall tales.

** Anni Clark BIG WATER (Annitime Records). Of Maine’s traditional folk set, including Turkey Hollow, Devonsquare, and her sometime bandmates Dan Merrill and Lynn Deeves, Anni Clark may the be the hardest working. She gigs all the time, and works tirelessly toward professionalism. This is all reflected here on her latest release. The production, designed to emphasize her full-bodied and dexterous voice, is excellent, and things like packaging and artistic direction have been paid particular attention, which shouldn’t be underestimated.

Her fans, drawn in by Clark’s affable engaging of the live audience and her gift for musical storytelling, should be pleased. “Mud over Matter,” is a live track that demonstrates her way with a room, what Clark describes as a “call-and-response thing.” There’s a fiddle and a lead guitar, and Clark plucks out a nice country ditty that turns into a pretty rollicking tune. She thrice compliments the audience, telling them it “sounds good.” Tunes like “The Island” and “Livin’ In My Own Head” show the narratýve ability in full swing, with tunes that sound like they’d be great at family gatherings and the like. Clark’s lyrics tend toward the highly personal, and “The Island” is a good example: “Now I go to the island, and I bring my song/ I feel the historyxthere, I want to pass it on/ I leave a piece of my heart on the island, I know/ And I carry the island wherever I go.”

However, while “Bobby Burns” is actually quite sassy (sexy?), it is the exception that leaves a listener looking for grit searching for more. Much of the album is delivered in a sing-song manner reminiscent of children’s music that can be disconcerting for more cynical listeners. In fact, I was reminded pretty often of Free to Be, You and Me, which is an album I once enjoyed, but isn’t exactly in my regular rotation anymore. The September 11 tribute song, “Forever Free,” borders on sentimental pap (“But bad guys win if I quit living”), and is in danger of sounding quite dated just a few years down the road. And “Kickapoo”? Sorry, but I couldn’t hit the track skip button fast enough.

— Sam Pfeifle

Anni Clark plays a CD-release show, at the Eastland Ballroom, in Portland, October 20. Call (207) 775-5411.

 

NO MICKEY MOUSE CLUB: PSC self-flagellates with Axis II.

***1/2 Paranoid Social Club AXIS II (Self-produced). In my review of their demo, I wrote of Paranoid Social Club that their “history as Rustic Overtones — which would have morphed into Paranoid Social Club eventually — makes lead singer Dave Gutter, bassist Jon Roods, and drummer Marc Boisvert aware of the cold music-biz realities and the responsibilities that come with them. But that experience has also left them profoundly jaded, insular, and a little bit crazy.” And, though this official album release contains three new songs, the fundamental qualities of their music haven’t changed. If anything, they’ve been amplified.

One of the new songs leads off the disc, actually. “Bully” is a manic, crazed explosion of a song, featuring the fiery voice of 6gig’s Walt Craven and the tortured rhymes of Portland’s hip-hop hero du jour, Poverty. The tune borders on the industrial, with sounds coming in and out from all over the place. Poverty’s rapped bridge, featuring lines like “ugly as me,” “the day that I fall,” and “people are evil” serves to cement PSC’s holistic mission from the outset. They’re serious about being a haven for the disaffected. They’ve replaced Rustic swagger with self flagellation made cool.

How about the ultra-cynical “Ricochet”? What a horrible, if realistic, portrait of society — set to a soundtrack of gunshots ringing out in the background. “Everybody’s got a gun, even your ex-girlfriend,” the “mailman’s going postal going door to door,”ü“suburban kids get bored,” and one man goes nuts “cuz Vietnam it wasn’t planned ahead/ He killed them for his country/ Now he wishes Uncle Sam was dead.” They have staked themselves to the ever-pervasive malaise that’s running rampant through our youth. Why might Johnny be having trouble at school? Maybe it’s because it “Seems like everyone’s got a gun these days” and you have to “Watch out for the ricochet.”

Gutter’s vocals have never sounded more anguished than on the final new song, “Fucking with My Head.” He is desperate, as is the music, with haunting chords in the background, and Boisvert drums that roll and splash with abandon. “Do what you want with mü possessions/ You can even wear my clothes/ You’re not fucking with my head.” Rock music has always been a bullhorn for the voices of the disenfranchised youth. What’s coming out of this amplification device is important, and more than a little frightening.

— Sam Pfeifle

Paranoid Social Club play a CD-release party, at Asylum, in Portland, November 1. Call (207) 772-8274.

 

**1/2 Nomar Slevik PURPLE LIGHTS AND APRIL FOOLISHNESS (Motion Recordings/Liquid Medallions). Hiding amongst the hip-hop talent in Portland is a mysterious figure named Nomar Slevik. Though he’s yet to make a public appearance, he’s managed to hook up with some other talented performers and has put out, here, a strange and curious album you’ll appreciate hearing once, even if you don’t go on to play it a million times. It is atmospheric, often creepy, and very well produced, featuring echoes of everything from 2001: A Space Odyssey to Poltergeist. And this is very much a coordinated album, from the bubbles rising to the surface that serve as the introduction, to the alt-country acoustic-guitar picking that accompanies a light hip-hop beat to close the disc.

“Hate (Fucky Pop)” is the introduction to Slevik’s Bone Thugs and Harmony– esque rolling cadence, which is followed by a more jocular phrasing from the Mole, who might remind of Del the Funky Homosapien. Slevik keeps the production pretty minimal, choosing pump organs and beats formed more from snares and rim shots than bass drums and floor toms. The lyrics are tough to catch, unfortunately, as he tends to blur his words, and his delivery stays fairly monotone. “Fistful of High Nobody,” however, makes great use of Jon Balzano-Brooks’ high tenor, framing it over a military cadence and a playfully random keyboard line. It’s sedate, haunting, and sad. You haven’t heard much like it.

Slevik is only undermined when he falls into ruts. His samples tend to introduce songs almost exclusively, and they all seem to share a bad-television-show quality. This does serve to bring cohesiveness to what could have been a scatter-shot album, but it makes one interested in how Slevik might be able to better incorporate the samples into the rhythms of his songs. He’s most successful in this during “Vadig and the Witness,” which comes in with a jagged, off-time beat and melds into African rhythms, before introducing a cut of some guy detailing zombies “coming to life and committing murders” in Cumberland, Maryland. It’s a nice find, as it sounds like it could have come straight of the WCSH local news, before the Maryland part chimes in. And he can be upbeat when he wants to be, as with the cheery synth chords that accompany Beth Lahr’s vocals on “Flea Collar.” Here he incorporates some Latin beats and shows off some sampling and scratching that comes across very cleanly in the mix. Meanwhile, Lahr is performing vocal gymnastics with the Batman theme and carnival music. Like the rest of the disc, it’s a nice piece of production.

— Sam Pfeifle

*** SHANNA AND THE HAAK (Lil’ Ryder). Haakon Kallweit and Rob Sylvain have more than a little busy in the local roots scene lately. Both have been instrumental in getting out discs by Elizabeth Ross and Phil Wells in the past couple of months, and now they’ve teamed up with Shanna Underwood and Joe Bloom to put out a nice six-song EP, which may signal the end of the Piners. Why do I say that? The disc’s first track, and possibly its best, is a rerecording of the Kallweit song “Take the Wheel,” which was a standout as sung by Piners vocalist Boo Cowie on the last Area Code 207 disc. Shanna and Haak seem to almost throw down the gauntlet by using the song to introduce themselves to the local roots scene. The song is fab, certainly, and it shows off both Kallweit’s songwriting talents and Underwood’s great set of pipes, but, as an understated version of the song, I can’t say it’s an improvement. No matter, there’s no need for competition here.

Or maybe there is. “Small City Walls,” written by Underwood, seems to comment on Portland’s sometimes incestuous alt-country scene, with lyrics like: “Is it you, or is it just me? The walls are starting talking again/ Sometimes, the truth is thicker thaü your skin/ This town is so small I don’t think I can handle it all/ Being alone isn’t the same as being lonely.” It’s a slow and somber country tune, similar to what Patty Griffin and Gillian Welch have been turning out lately. Haak turns in a great üocal number, too, with “Regina.” Over top of some really wonderful harmonica work from Bloom, Haak talks a mean talk: “Hey baby don’t you know who I am? You’re talking face to face with the big boss man/ I got some songs up in my mind/ I got a boatload of rhythm and I sure can rhyme.” It’s great swagger, and the music — a slow blues number with Haak hammering away at the bass string on his guitar — steps up to match.

The disc falters a bit towards the end, however. “Picket Fences” sounds just a tad too similar to James Taylor’s “Fire and Rain” for safety, and while “New Orleans” is a kind of cool rockabilly stomp, it suffers from the same jokey feel that marks Slaid Cleeves’s “Monster in Law.” All in all, however, Rob Sylvain supplies some quality dobro, and he and Haak have really got a great feel for recording acoustic music.

— Sam Pfeifle

 

SPOOKY WORLD: Dan Blakeslee raises the dead with Halloween: A Novelty Record.

**** Dan Blakeslee HALLOWEEN: A NOVELTY RECORD (Cotton Pony Music, 7”). Do you ever wonder if Superman ever kept everybody’s coffee warm in the offices of the Daily Planet, with his heat vision. You know, just did something frivolous, but that everybody would appreciate, just because he could? Well, that’s what Dan Blakelee has done with this album. Though he’s normally a serious illustrator and singer-songwriter, he’s clearly fascinated with Halloween — just check out his art show at Portsmouth’s Ceres Bakery, if you need further proof. So, fittingly, he decided to release a Halloween tribute single (on orange vinyl!), just in time for the season. It’s a wonderful little piece of local culture, and great departure from Blakeslee’s normal songwriting fare. Both of his originals show a spooky flair. “Witchtrot Rd.” finds him telling a tale of “Halloween night, and everything’s still, all but the house, house, house, up on the hill, hill.” It’s what you might imagine emanating from an evil band of oompa-loompas as they take over the chocolate factory for the night. Blakeslee twists a harrowing accordion over stomping and cackles, silly in intent, serious in musical composition. “The Pumpkin Thief” is even better, with an acoustic gypsy guitar tightly picked, and a deeply baritoned Blakeslee barumphing, and oomphing before warning one and all to “Guard your pumpkins, for it’s Halloween night.” It’s the music that might accompany a light-hearted band of Ents as they stroll through Tolkein’s dark forests late at night. Blakeslee also tackles Don Raye and Gene DePaul’s “Headless Horseman,” before ending the single with a little skit of sorts that should give you a wicked laugh, dude. If you see this thing around, buy it. Not only might it one day find itself a collector’s item, but you can’t beat it for music to accompany bobbing for apples.

— Sam Pfeifle

Dan Blakeslee plays a 7”-release party, at King Tiki, in Portsmouth, NH, October 22. Call (603) 430-5228.

 

Sam Pfeifle can be reached at spfeifle@phx.com. Josh Rogers can be reached at jrogers@phx.com.