Link: http://onemodelnation.com/

You may know Courtney Taylor-Taylor from the drizzle pop of The Dandy Warhols, but do you know the Courtney Taylor-Taylor from the politically and culturally tensile group One Model Nation?

There is not much difference between the two bands. Look beyond the sterile uprising from Total Werks Vol. 1 (1969-1977) and you get the same fashionable cool that Taylor-Taylor is so good at presenting.

One Model Nation is not simple romantic retro-cizing back to the late ‘70s and early ‘80s Krautrock turned industrial musical uprising, it’s a story with gigantic proportions. Taylor-Taylor has concocted a historical fiction that takes us back to the year 1977. The location — Berlin.

Fueled by the historically immortalized albums of that time — David Bowie’s Station To Station and Iggy Pop’s The Idiot — One Model Nation takes the emotional elements that now seem to go hand in hand with ‘70s German cultural revolution even though they stem out to various geographical entities from around the world (the Sheffield, Toronto, and Paris scenes, for example), and create a romantic vision fueled by turbulence.

Taylor-Taylor has done his research because if you don’t blink, you may gather a sense of confusion. Is this really 2012?  That’s what he wants, for you to feel the confusion of this period in German history and relate it to a sense of now. A lot of emotions ride on the sterility of their sound.

“Transmission” is a power trip through analog Krautrock and industrialized background samples, you feel the song slowly evolve as they gently take from early Front 242 and the other politically fueled industrial bands from the early ‘80s.

But that is as far as it goes as Taylor-Taylor looks more towards the gyrating sounds of vintage Tubeway Army, Bauhaus and Scary Monsters era David Bowie. “East Berlin” is the band’s theme song while a song like “Russian Eastern Time” pushes the band’s envelope, turning the horror scene into something that was ripped from the guts of Skinny Puppy.

It all turns into sexual prowess and “The Dominator.” The repetitiveness within their call to arms would turn any revolution into a sweaty mess that transcends into the instrumental “Bicycles,” and a direct homage to Kraftwerk, a band that cannot be mistaken for inspiring everything on this album.

Skinny ties ripped from their sockets and messed up hair in a frenzy, you feel the pre-dawn redness of “Throaty Neumann.” By time, you realize you are a part of this movement whether you like it or not. You have heard too much. There is no turning back. And you can thank all of the experimental electronic bands who were fueled by paranoia to try to explain these unexplained sounds that follow a communist manifesto.

In correlation with all of this is a supplemental graphic novel. With art by Jim Rugg from The Guild, they do their best to recreate the story and not just tie in the experience of the album, but help better explain something that really cannot be explained unless you lived in Berlin during this time.

Not as effective as the album, it’s like a book to a movie, where in this instance, the book is the music and the movie is the graphic novel. Do you need both to make this album effective? Absolutely, not. Is it good currency for a collector. You bet.

One Model Nation does an excellent job at preserving the sound and the emotions of the late ‘70s. If I walked into a record store who was playing this album, I would be fooled, but fooled by a surprising discovery that this album is worth sitting next to the founding generation of ‘70s electronic music.

Wavelets
Athaletic
Tiny Engines

Link: Bandcamp

Wavelets is still a relatively young band. Ignited in 2009, they have dipped their toes in the waters with several self-released EPs and singles. Now the band has taken the dive with Athaletic.

The album burns with scruffy nostalgia, the kind you would hear back in the late ‘80s/early ‘90s. Bands like Braid and Mineral, Samiam and Weatherbox all burn bright in the eyes of the members of Wavelets. However, with Athaletic, the album is half hazard and almost clumsy in its chaos.

With a band like Dikembe, a band that features frontman Steven Gray and bassist Ryan Willems, their album (http://dikembe.bandcamp.com/) sounds like it was plucked right out of the Jade Tree discography and filled with sincere rebellious mannerisms in the way The Promise Ring intelligently fueled their indie punk rockers.

To me the lower end of the spectrum is Wavelets. Even though they are more important in context to this review, Dikembe has it more together. When Gray belts out tunes like “We’re Really Jazzed about The Gig” or the strangely titled “My Dad The Manatee,” it’s not at all that impressive. That punk spirit and force is in play. The songwriting is actually the best thing this band has going for it. But what the band is lacking is tightness and precision in the song. Controlled chaos is an effect, but it does not have to end up wobbly as some of the songs do. I think a little more control and this band will have something for people to pay attention to. Unfortunately for me, there was not one song that left an impression on me.

Link: Signals Midwest on BandCamp

This year marks the 20th anniversary of Jawbox’s Novelty. I used to play the shit out of it. I still have my original copy. I’m sure I cannot play it anymore without it skipping or getting digitally stuck in random note purgatory. And the linear notes are warped and torn from consistent admiration. I haven’t listened to it in a long time, but it always has been special to me, now more than ever. The album was different, fueled by that push and pull of the tempo and surge of manipulated chaos. I still like its rawness more than the accessible alternative For Your Own Special Sweetheart.

Jawbox was different. They understood how to emotionally tie things together while being unconstrained by punk rock convention. It’s what Signals Midwest does.

Latitudes and Longitudes is no Novelty. It’s not a progressive move forward and the band is not showcasing anything that can break ground. But the album serves as a catalyst of being a reminder to the days when this shit was groundbreaking, and Signals Midwest does everything right in serving that purpose. A toss between the early Jawbox-era Dischord scene and the progressive hardcore of bands like Cave In, it’s a feeling that only hardcore music of this sort can convey.

“In Tensions” starts just like you would think, melodic with increased tempo and then power chord progressions that pound your head until it maintains that groove that carries the album off into a triage of power, heartfelt emotion, and strength.

“Monarchs” takes me back to that early-to-mid-’90s hardcore era where all the bands experienced that alternative buzz. It sums up many of the songs on this album, all utilizing a pop structure with each note feeling real. None of this fabricated crap that you hear swirling around the MTV2 stratosphere. Throw that stuff away and experience the real sound Signals Midwest presents.

I hope that years down the road, this album gives someone the same sentiment Jawbox did to me.

Banquets
Top Button, Bottom Shelf
Black Numbers
Rating: 2.8 out of 5

Link: http://www.banquetsamerica.com/

Normally I would not express satisfaction out of an album that sounds the same, but Banquets’ speedy numbers are their fine points. “Lips to The Ground” is like a lush Descendents jam without the quirkiness. And instead of a girl to fawn over, Banquets sings about redemption or a progressive state of personal growth.

It works with the immediacy of the song. But for Top Button, Bottom Shelf the band tries hard to build up the album and add depth to it. With only 25 minutes, they need to let the throttle out and just accelerate.

The contemplative songs are also a consequence of mixed emotions. “Jut Me And My Canseco Rookie Card” is much too bouncy to maintain its intensity, but “Fireplug” is the result of one fine pop punk song equipped with all those great guitar hooks and powerful  vocal compliments.

Put the pedal to the metal and give it your all. No need for pillow talk here.

Luther
Siblings & Sevens
Black Numbers
Rating: 3.5 out of 5

Link: http://luther.bandcamp.com/

With the way Luther starts out Siblings & Sevens, you expect a folksy acoustic ramble that bears the weight and reaction of “Oh, another one of those disgruntled guitar diatribes.” But then “This Is Like Fight Club” changes everything and hopelessness turns into “Oh hell yeah!” The song bears the brunt of late-’90s and 21st Century progressive punk acts like Jawbox and Small Brown Bike. It’s intense without being vagrantly so and expressive in the purest of descriptives.

As quick as these songs move, you get a warmth that sticks with you as the band remains predominately balanced throughout. “Two Anglers” slows things down, but keeps the intensity alive with a forward-driving rhythm and expressive guitar accents.

“The Suitor,” the longest song on the album is probably the most contemplative both musically and lyrically. The album ends with a power punk anthem as it bounces out of existence. It’s a more logical ending than how the album began. What it does is showcase how solid of an album Siblings & Sevens is despite the factor of blowing your mind beyond comparison to their influences. This band has room to grow, and I think that will happen.

The Bell
Great Heat
Badman Recording Co.
Rating: 4.5 out of 5

Link: http://www.thebell.se

Are you ready to be dominated by a venomous sound? Blending coldwave with a hyperactive industrial slant to Britpop lust to post-punk glimmer in their eyes, The Bell pass by French New Wave and cold Deutsche Industrialism to be found in Sweden’s post-modern curvature.

“Holiday” may be hyperactive in their gyration and poise, “23 Seconds” is more scenester parklife contemplation that moves as slow as a Sunday afternoon. Their ethereal pop is as dreamy as it comes.

With the re-popularization of OMD and remnants of Pet Shop Boys still ringing in our ears, “I Can’t Change” is perfect for the New New Romantic in you. And if you are deaf after turning up “Tell Us You’re Sorry,” don’t say we did not warn you. It’s as infectious as any early Depeche Mode song.

“Dope Makes You” seems like an oddball in the amalgamation of this album not for the female guest vocals that is a lovely addition to the style but for the idea that this song is so comfortably indie. For Great Heat it’s like someone in a foreign country screaming forth with blatant tourist fashion. It’s uncomfortable, especially when we have been conditioned by dark, brooding synth pop.

But the band returns to form for the final two songs, songs that will make you swoon in howling pleasure.

Link: http://www.myspace.com/rotinhellband

The waiting is the hardest part. What is it going to be? Will it be speed-punk vocals rip-roaring through powerhouse music? Will it be guttural death growls from the pits of hell? Will it be chanting hardcore anthem that makes everyone feel like they are involved?

It’s what the first song does to us. “Fulminate Of Mercury” starts out like what an entire A Handfull Of Dust album accomplishes — feedback and spectral dissonance. But then comes the build up. Power chords, arpeggios, chug-a-lugs. Notes are added in, a double-bass drum speeds it up without adjusting tempo. We are in for a ride into the apocalypse.

Then zippidy doo da and Shazaam! Rot In Hell just lets it all loose. Three minutes and thirty 36 seconds feels like years of rage built up and now the UK band is puking it all out on a platter. “Traitor’s Gate” is uber-fast, but full of some massively intense rage. They could end the album here, and you would swear it to be the greatest hardcore albums in under 10 minutes.

But they go on, and you get a deeper perspective of the band with Slaye-esque riffage on “Rotting Hell” and a virtuous metal instrumental on “Hallways of the Always.”

You get a sense of all that I described above: the intensity of “Lucius Ferre” that makes perfect kindling for a circle pit. The demolition derby rager of “Coyotenia” and the anthemic “Ars Sina Scienta Nihil Est.”

Let the power trip consume you.

Monotonix
Not Yet
Drag City
Rating: 5 out of 5

This is a band that can clearly have people covering their ears and clearing out a club screaming like giddy schoolgirls over the noise levels and pure energetic distortion. Hell, I’m getting sweaty just listening to Not Yet and I have not even gotten out of this chair.

This crazed mix of a punk-fueled pandemic polishes up the definition of “tornadic” because this band just keeps going to where you expect them to drop dead of exhaustion at any moment.

That is a testament to the recording of Not Yet. Powered by the purist ethics of Steve Albini, this album feels like I am sitting in the same room where they are playing, but instead of the dirty dive bar sound and muffled head-in-your ass vocals, I have a top notch sound experience.

And what an experience it is. As for the band, Tel Aviv has been known to kick up some very energetic groups, but Monotonix is the best I have heard. The combination of dirty guitars, loud cymbals, and great vocals on “Late Night” showcases the fun this band has while keeping things lively and caught up in the mix.

But the real fun house lies in the opener “Nasty Fancy.” This song is a killer of big chords and bigger rhythms. And then when you think it’s over, the band kicks back into the song only to make you dance harder.

“Blind Again” forgets the three-chord structure and gives you one righteous power chord like a punch in the face. It’s all they need to get their rock and roll asses in gear and the listener gyrating in some form or fashion.

Monotonix just created on iconic punk album for the times. Not Yet is raw and infectious and most importantly a great listen from front to back, kicking the “all killer, no filler” saying right in the balls.

Link:

Band: http://www.myspace.com/thecarrierhc
Label: http://www.deathwishinc.com/

Blind To What Is Right is a hardcore steam engine, plowing through nine songs like they were breaking the sound barrier.

The Boston band comes back with a hard and heavy release that goes further and deeper into the East Coast hardcore psyche than before. The title track wastes no time and shows off their foundations for the spirit of true East Coast brute force.

But they immediately travel into territory they have not fully explored in the past, and that is more contemplative and melodic, not on a screamo new-wave melodic sense, but a more sobering accentuation to the sludge-core that beats you up side the head. “Hollow Pain” is the apex of this ideal.

What stems as a cross between the progressive drive of A Perfect Murder and Sick Of It All, and the crunch of a sound that Tad and the Northwestern long hairs created, The Carrier really thought things through and it shows.

You hear songs like “A Stranger To Myself” and “Into Darkness,” and you experience a band that is opening up more and adhering to contemplation. It makes you feel one step closer to a band that is real and true to themselves, making them true to the fans.

Link: http://xraypress.net/

Remember the late ‘90s when indie rock had a jangle-toothed fierceness? It grabbed on to you and was going to die before letting go. The June of 44s, the Sweep The Leg Johnnys, the Don Caballeros, Jade Tree, Touch and Go…Shellac! These bands would make your head spin in a great way.

X-Ray Press resurrects the style like a bunch of witches spitting into a smokey cauldron, or two guys (Paurl Walsh and Michael Pasuit) who know exactly what they are doing. These are the core members who make up the band. The rest are honorary musicians who fill in the space.

“I.A.i. Everybody, This Is Everyone (And No One Cares)” gets the saliva flowing but does not really cut it. It’s a modest sampling of what this band is capable of, but not really the spark that ignites the blood flow like “I.A. ii. Bad Beard (God Under Oath).” The abstract jangle rock and a sound that is best described as Walsh using a rusty nail to be electrocuted by a Dan Electro will send you into sympathy convulsions. Or at least “I.A.iii. On Breathing Water” will. Don’t worry, you will get a kick out of their charge.

The band’s gravitation to abstractness is as artful as it is noisy. UVB-76 is their master thesis on dissonant and mysterious song constructions that are an absolute joy to listen to. This band is not afraid to take a chance and go out of their way to make something work. It is what gives them that buzz.

“I.B.v. Chord and Mumble” will have you hypnotized by the combination of slashing Drive Like Jehu-like guitar tone clusterfucks and Hum-like smoothness.

And it keeps going through roughly four sections: A,B,C, and D.

What can be said is that UVB-76 is solid and an enjoyable listen, bashing you up side the head with abstract time signatures and screeching intensity. And if you want to have some real fun, stream the actual mysterious UVB-76 Russian radio transmission while playing something like “II.E.xvii. The Terms (In The Colors Of Our DNA)” to really get into the spirit of things.