Category: CD QuickTakes (Page 107 of 149)

Future Clouds and Radar: Peoria

After setting a high standard with the band’s double-album debut, former Cotton Mather front man Robert Harrison pares down the set list, though not the lofty ambition, with Future Clouds and Radar’s sophomore set. Truth be told, Harrison still needs to fine-tune his approach; while Peoria shows a penchant for melancholy melodies and a wistful glance, the sweeter songs are forced to compete with more amorphous entries, a kaleidoscopic cacophony that finds the group becoming increasingly unhinged and badly in need of a more defined direction. Opening track, “The Epcot View,” and the entry that follows, a mellow, meandering “Old Edmund Ruffin,” would seem to bode well for Harrison and company’s ability to manage the mood, but the trippy psychedelic indulgence of “Eighteen Months” and “Follow the Crane” abandon any sense of melodic intent, which isn’t recouped until the album’s final fade. So too, with only eight offerings in all, the band’s allowed itself very little room to negotiate for nuance. Ultimately, Peoria shows promise, but until Future Clouds and Radar find some focus, the forecast for success remains somewhat overcast indeed. (Star Apple Kingdom)

Future Clouds and Radar MySpace page

ohGr: Devil in My Details

When he’s not busy freaking people out with industrial explosions in Skinny Puppy, starring in rock operas with Paris Hilton (“Repo! The Genetic Opera”) or doing heroin, Nivek Orge (or Kevin Orgre when he’s feeling less dyslexic) is the frontman of ohGr. Unlike the ultra-abrasive sound of Skinny Puppy, ohGr has traditionally been slightly more accessible than that group of industrial pioneers. Welt, their first album, incorporated electro and even some synth-pop into the mix, while the ingeniously named follow-up Sunny PsyOp did the same. But on their third album, Devil in My Details, there’s nary a synth riff or electro beat to be found. This is nearly as industrial and frightening as a Skinny Puppy record, which is weird considering that this is the first release by ohGr since Skinny Puppy got back together, maybe Orge can’t turn the industrial side of him off now that’s it’s been turned back on. It’s also not nearly as good as either of those two records or anything Skinny Puppy’s done since their reunion, losing steam quickly after the first two strong tracks (“Shhh” and “Eyecandy”). There are a lot of ideas on Devil in My Details; Ogre goes off on rants about government conspiracies, the evils of eating meat and other assorted topics, but there isn’t a lot of music. For hardcore fans of Ogre and his assorted side-projects only. (Synthetic Symphony 2008)

ohGr MySpace Page

Two Cow Garage: Speaking in Cursive

It was arrogant to think from the start / You were the only backyard Dylan / With a folksinger’s heart” sings Two Cow Garage’s Micah Schnabel in “Folksinger’s Heart.” And while even an aged Bob Dylan has more vocal heft than Schnabel, who consistently sports a rasp that sounds like he’s been yelling at the top of his lungs for hours on end, he and his Columbus, Ohio-based band do tend to write some compelling songs. The bare-bones heartland rock that marks the bulk of Speaking in Cursive, the band’s fourth album, even veers towards E Street Band territory via crashing guitar chords and Andy Schell’s tinkling keyboards on “Glass City,” one of bassist Shane Sweeney’s several turns at the lead vocal slot. Sweeney’s vocals are at their best during the quieter moments of “The Heart and the Crown,” where he again echoes Springsteen, this time in his folksy acoustic guise. This kind of vocal restraint is in short supply, but Speaking in Cursive is saved by brilliant contemplative moments like the disillusioned “Not Your Friends” and the vivid character sketch “Sadie Mae.” (Suburban Home 2008)

Two Cow Garage MySpace page

Billy Currington: Little Bit of Everything

The premise of Billy Currington’s latest, Little Bit of Everything, is supposed to symbolize the singer and songwriter’s many musical influences, which include hints of R&B and classic rock. Well, okay, but at the end of the day this is a country record through and through. Currington is a very good songwriter, and one of those rare Nashville acts who began as a writer and rode that talent to a record deal. But as a singer, he’s pretty average and sounds like every Tom, Dick, Chesney and Paisley. But let’s face it – the people buying country music records don’t care about the vocals delivering them. They only care about the songs, and Currington has some good ones. The standouts here are the opening warm weather anthem “Swimmin’ in Sunshine,” the absolutely stunning ballad “Walk On,” and the Jimmy Buffet-flavored “I Shall Return.” And while some of these tracks border on mediocre, Currington is for the most part better than his peers. Maybe that’s because his Georgia roots make it all seem so natural, or maybe it’s because he’s just that talented. (Mercury)

Billy Currington MySpace Page

Kevin Ayers: What More Can I Say…

After re-emerging this year with the highly lauded The Unfairground, his first new work in well over a decade, England’s ultra-eccentric Kevin Ayers seems to be enjoying a renewed burst of popularity. In recent months there’s been a minor resurgence of everything Ayers, from reissues and compilations to thoughtful examinations of the role he played in the English prog-rock progression. Consequently, it comes as little surprise to see some digging through the vaults, with What More Can I Say… being among more interesting items unearthed of late. Essentially a set of homegrown demos that sat neglected for nearly 40 years, they point the way to some of Ayers’ prime pieces of the early ‘70s. Mostly it’s Ayers only, sketching out his songs on guitar and keyboards, with occasional accompaniment from some of his regular cronies – Mike Oldfield, David Bedford and Robert Wyatt included. All in all, it’s a fascinating insider’s view into the Ayers M.O., one that places the listener in the observer’s chair as the composer crafts his designs, verbally explaining the structure of some songs while improvising others. A couple of the tracks appear winners even early on – the affably strummed “Unfinished” (“I could just play with words all day,” Ayers offers), the triumphant keyboard processional “Crying,” and “Dreaming Doctor” which borrows the avant-garde textured effect of composers Phillip Glass and Terry Riley. Ayers says it all eloquently, and these personal tapes provide the proof. (Reel Recordings)

Kevin Ayers MySpace page

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