At Your Service

Quick review of the new Morphine rarities disc that will appear in the November issue of The Noise....

When Morphine bassist /frontman Mark Sandman died in the summer of 1999, the iconoclastic band's promising run was cut fatally short. The past decade has left fans with a lot of questions as to what could have, should have, would have happened to Beantown's low rock heroes with few answers, save for a posthumous greatest hits collection and Dana Colley's recent resurgence in A.K.A.C.O.D. But as Sandman croons on the trio's loaded new rarities retrospective At Your Service, "Have Patience. Everything will be alright."
It's a promise the album delivers on fully. Twelve years since the band's last full length, At Your Service pulls together 35 tracks of b-sides, alternate takes and live cuts in an attempt to fill the void left by the band's breakup. Fortunately the band rolled a lot of tape during its tenure, and much of the two disc set stands alongside the band's best work. Tracks like "Women R Dogs" and "Come Over" will feel achingly familiar, basking in the band's signature molasses-like blues sound, while the live cuts the make up much of the second disc are a cut above the Bootleg: Detroit release. As a rarities set it's not the most consistent listen, but fans who have long been jonesing for a fix will find it pretty refreshing (Ryan Bray).

Jawbox reuniting? On Jimmy Fallon?

Um, yup. According to numerous credible news outlets including the AV Club, Punknews.org and Aversion, DC post-punk heroes Jawbox will be reuniting for a one off performance on Late Night without Conan O'Brien...um, I mean Late Night with Jimmy Fallon. The performance, slated for Fallon's Dec. 8 episode, comes on the heels of Dischord's reissue of the band's 1994 disc "For Your Own Special Sweetheart," tentatively set to hit shelves Nov. 24.
But don't get your hopes up too much. Frontman J. Robbins quickly shot down talks of an extended reunion. But hey, at least we have a halfway legitimate excuse for watching Fallon's show.

Bob Mould @ The Paradise (Oct. 7, 2009)

At 49, Bob Mould has a lot to look back on.
2009 marks the shifty rock vet’s 30 year anniversary, beginning with his seminal work fronting alt-punk legends Husker Du and onward to commercial success with Sugar and a solid solo resume. So when he embarked on his current three week jaunt through the states earlier this fall, maybe the hardest thing for Mould in prepping for the tour was figuring out where to start.
The catalogue runs deep, but the newly assembled Bob Mould Band hit a near pitch perfect balance Wednesday night at the Paradise, weaving in and out of songs new and old and leaving no stretch of Mould’s stellar career untouched.
A power trio rounded out nicely by bassist Jason Narducy and Superchunk drummer Jon Wurster, the band blasted through a good 20 songs over the course of its 90-plus minute set, with Mould barely coming up for air save for the occassional nod and “Thanks.” He may be one of modern rock’s most prized elder statesmen, but Mould’s still not keen on resting on his cred, as he slashed and lumbered his way about the stage with vitriolic gusto. The man’s still got it, and a lot of it.
Things kicked off with the early Husker favorite “Something I Learned Today,” providing fans with the first of what would be many Husker bones Mould would throw the crowd. A few Sugar tunes followed, which segued into solo cuts from “Workbook” and his most recent effort “Life and Times,” the title track of which proved that the singer’s angsty alt-pop leanings haven’t staled at all over time.
But the detours toward new material were few and brief, as the band opted instead to dip into the vaults for the crowd favorites. The Huskers were well represented through a slew of cuts off of “New Day Rising” (“Celebrated Summer,” “I Apologize,” “Folklore”), Sugar’s “If I Can’t Change Your Mind” and “A Good Idea” made appearances and Mould’s early solo material was well represented thanks to “See a Little Light.” But maybe the most poignant moment came when the band put out the fire long enough to play some acoustic songs, as “Hardly Getting Over It” may well have been the night’s finest moment.
Balder and greyer he may be, but Wednesday’s show proved that Bob’s still Bob, and for fans young and old that proved easy enough to take.

For anyone who wants some real indie rock....

Hey again. It's been a while (I feel like I say that a lot). But big news...
Pavement, yes THE Pavement, is reuniting for a series of benefit shows in New York's Central Park in September 2010, tickets for which sold out immediately upon going on presale earlier this week (this a full year in advance of the shows). You think people are a little excited about the reunion?
Well they fucking should be. Much like the Beatles in the 60s or U2 in the 80s, Pavement, albeit in a far more hush and subdued fashion, have become poster children of the 90s alternative/indie/punk rock boom alongside Nirvana and Pearl Jam. No they didn't have the hits their 90s-era counterparts did (hell, they were too busy slandering them in song, check out "Range Life"), and at points they were about as accessible as a brick wall, but what the band had over all of the alternative crop was spirit. Pavement made music that you knew only these five guys could play. It was lo-fi and lumbering, hazy and often times discordant in a perfectly ramshackle rock n roll way. But it was also, more often than not, great. Stephen Malkmus' lyrics were equally free associative and strikingly poignant and heartfelt, and the music locked right in. They were a beautiful mess.
And now they're back, and according to guitarist/co-founder Scott "Spiral Stairs" Kannenberg, more shows could be on the horizon. In an interview with Rolling Stone, he said the idea of a reunion, as improbable as it sounded to most fans, was something that had been discussed amongst the band members for years. Now they're looking ahead to the Central Park shows and are testing the waters of next summer's festival circuit, namely Coachella.
Now there's no question that any one of these festivals are, likely at this very moment, salivating at the thought of booking one of the most prized and arguably most sorely missed bands of the past decade. I mean, let's not forget these were the same people that offered the Smiths a cool $5 million for a one off performance, so these guys love to stir the pot with promises of a reunion. That being said, I for one can definitely see Malkmus and friends being the toast of the 2010 summer festival scene, and i hope they do. Never got to see them when they were around, so I'd welcome the opportunity to watch these dudes in the the back of a deli,let alone at say Lollapalooza.
But part of me hopes they leave it there. Doubling back to a previous post I made about the dangers of reunions, I hope its a one and done thing: no prolonged touring, definitely no new reunion album. Just treat it like a test drive, once around the block and back to the dealer.
Anyway, definitely the best news I've heard in a while.

All points Westbound....

Oh, hey there. Wait, what's that? Where have I been? You missed me?

Didn't think so.

Anyway, with the shit storm that was a 100+ hour work week behind me, here's a little something to wet your beak. I had the good fortune a while back to talk with Obi Fernandez, he the vocalist/trombone player for local homeboys Westbound Train, for Boston's venerable indie rag "The Noise." Big ups to Obi for taking the time to talk and Matthew Thompson for his help setting up the interview. The new issue of the Noise hits stands in July.


Ska is dead.

We’ve all heard that one before, haven’t we? Now 12 or so years removed from the retrospectively horrific ska boom that made household names out of bands like Sublime (deservedly so) and Reel Big Fish (eh, not so much), the word “ska” has almost been reduced to parody, kind of like the Macarena.

But let’s not read the genre its last rights just yet. Sure, Beantown’s once rumbling ska scene has softened considerably in recent years. No more Bosstones or Bim Skala Bim, and those skank-tastic days of Big D and Kicked in the Head playing VFW Halls and backyard parties are long gone. But ska is alive and well. I’ve seen it myself.

On a cold, somewhat damp Saturday night in April, Westbound Train are having a coming out of sorts. Just days after the release of “Come and Get It,” their second disc for Hellcat Records, the band, singer/trombone player Obi Fernandez, trumpet player Rich Graiko, guitarist John DeCarlo, bassist Thad Merritt, drummer Eric Novod, keyboardist Gideon Blumethal and sax player Luke Penella, are getting set to stage the second of two back-to-back CD release shows. The buzz around night number one was the band sold out the Middle East’s small but typically sparse upstairs room, and upon arrival tonight they seem poised to repeat.

A few hours later I creep to the side of the stage to get a good look. The crowd, sufficiently pumped up by an opener I can’t remember, are ready to move. And it took mere notes into the band’s hour plus long set that I was sold. The music skittered and stomped with groovy nonchalance, the vocals soared soulfully and sights and sounds of 200 plus ska freaks singing and moving with the rhythm was proof enough to me that there was still life to be had in this thing called ska.

“Yeah, it was great,” said Fernandez, phoning in from his New Jersey home a week after the show. “We were really excited and ready to get back out and play behind the new record, and to sell out both nights was amazing.”

Fernandez and friends took the show on the road just a few days after the Middle East home stand, hitting joints in New York, Philadelphia, Cleveland and Chicago amongst others to further push the new release.

“At this point we sort of know our spots,” Fernandez said. “Chicago is a place we love to play, same with New York, Philadelphia, DC. The shows there are always a lot of fun. With this mini-tour we just wanted to come out to these cities that have shown us a lot of support.”

The band has come a ways since their Boston beginnings back in 2001. The band’s soul-infused brand of dub and trad ska found a warm embrace in a city that has long supported and stood up for the genre, self-releasing 2003’s “Searching For A Melody” and 2005’s “Five to Two” to considerable local fanfare. But when the Train caught the ear of Rancid’s Tim Armstrong, their profile got a considerable boost from area faves to the big leagues.

Through word of mouth from friends and early supporters, including soulful New York ska vets the Slackers, Armstrong brought the band into his Hellcat Records imprint, first through a contribution to the label’s long-running “Give’Em The Boot” series before releasing their third full length, 2006’s “Transitions.”

The album was Westbound’s most mature offering to date, suggesting the band may have found a home in Hellcat, a meat and bones offshoot of Epitaph Records home to street smart hardcore, punk, rockabilly and ska acts such as the Pietasters, the Aggrolites, Roger Miret, the Horrorpops and Boston’s own Dropkick Murphys among others.

“That was a fun record to make,” Fernandez said of “Transitions” and signing to Hellcat. “It’s one of those things you think about as a kid, being able to work with bands you grew up listening to. I remember having a tape with Rancid on one side of it and just feeling blown away. Now to make records with people who understand us and who we call friends, there’s nothing better. It’s a great relationship.”

Their Hellcat connections helped the band land the services of Slackers’ sax player Dave Hillyard, a revered figure in ska circles, in the production of “Come And Get It.”

Hillyard worked the boards as the record’s producer, helping bring the band’s sound to the next level.

“I guess you’d say it’s like having a coach,” Fernandez said of Hillyard’s influence on the new record. “He knows us and we know him, and he has a great way of getting the sound he needs out of you. His knowledge of music is unbelievable, just on another level.”

While the record still finds the band fully embracing the relaxed, rocksteady vibes it’s long held at its core, even a cursory listen to the disc reveals there are new elements at play in the Train formula. If album opener “I Don’t Belong Here” kicks the disc off in fine, if now established, Westbound form, “Come and Get It” it is peppered with pleasantly surprising deviations, namely “Ain’t Gonna Be Easy,” a track which channels the Motown and Stax labels as much as it does the band’s ska and reggae ancestry.

The reasons behind the stylistic shift forward are many. For starters, the band took themselves out of their environment to write and record the album, setting up shop in LA for their first album away from home. The album also marks drummer Novod and sax player Penella’s first contributions to the band on record, further pushing the band into the realm of jazz and soul. This combined with Hillyard’s expertise makes for a record that feels both familiar and new for listeners.

“It’s a good reflection of where we are as a band right now,” Fernandez said. “It really feels like everything that’s happened before now has been a build up to this. This is a record I think we’ve had in us a long time, but up until now we weren’t there. We’re all really proud of it.”

The band will make its first big push behind the record this summer, as they’ll head out on a six week run on this summer’s Vans Warped Tour beginning July 7 in Indianapolis. The trek includes a local stop at the Comcast Center on July 21.

“It’s a long tour, but a lot of fun,” Fernandez said looking back on the band’s shorter stints on previous Warped Tours. “Everyone talks about it like it’s a punk rock summer camp, and it really is. The bands are great and Kevin (Lyman, Warped Tour founder and organizer) does a great job putting it together every year. We’re excited to do it.”

Touring will no doubt consume a good chunk of the band’s 2009 and 2010 calendar years, and another disc is likely a few years ahead of them. For now, Fernandez and his fellow passengers on the Train are just enjoying the ride, following wherever the music takes them.

“This record put a lot of things in perspective for us I think. Making (“Come And Get It”) was so natural and we gave into that a lot. It was the first record where we didn’t overthink things and just played, and that gave us a lot of confidence to just open up our sound and let things happen. That’s something I think we’ve been working at for a long time.”

NOFXciting

Growing up means letting go and moving on.

I get that, and for the most part I can accept the fact that sometimes the things you once loved becomes, well, lame or uncool. Fire engines and tonka trucks rocked when I was a little kid, but needless to say I cant find much use for them at the ripe old age of 25. But it's cool. I've found a way to sleep at night without them.

But music, at least for me, has always been a little bit harder to let go of. For some reason it's difficult me to leave behind certain bands, even if conventional wisdom says i should. Here I am, a college graduate with a good job etc. etc. and I still have a fond preference for loud, fast and perpetually adolescent music I should have left to collect dust a long time ago. Sure I'm big into Wilco, Talking Heads and hosts of other bands I would have scoffed at mercilessly when I was in high school, but I'd be lying if i said I didn't still get a charge out the Descendents, Bad Religion, No Use For a Name and the bratty skate punk I grew up with as a kid.

But what about the bands you can't shake loose even if the torch you once carried for them continues to grow dimmer with each passing record? Do you stomach the bad out of reverence for all the good times you had listening a band when you were younger, or do you just cut bait? Does a band's former greatness make up for its latter day sins?

Maybe the appropriate response to this admittedly heady line of questioning is "Who cares," and I can't say I thought much about any of this at all until maybe two weeks ago. It was then that I picked up "Coaster," the new and regrettably meh record by NOFX. The record's flagrant mediocrity didn't exactly surprise me, especialy following an album that was far and away the worst of their long career. And yet I still bought, knowing that it would at least halfway suck, because I almost felt an obligation to follow through with one of my all time favorite bands.

A little backstory: In the mid 90s, a halcyon time when punk rock slowly began taken over every fiber of my being, there was NOFX, who alongside bands like Rancid, Green Day, Pennywise and Bad Religion were putting out the best punk music of my generation. In fact, everything NOFX did from 1990-2002 or so was borderline untouchable, from underground classics like "Punk In Drublic" and "White Trash, Two Heebs and a Bean" to the ironically titled "I Heard They suck Live." Hell, even "Heavy Petting Zoo," which with its slower tempos and overall grungier sound felt like a deliberate stab at alienating its own fan base, was still pretty good. For a while it really felt like the band could do no wrong.

And that was exactly what I was thinking when I bought "Coaster." It didn't matter that "Wolves In Wolves Clothing" was terrible, or that "War on Errorism," felt too preachy and lacked the punch of the band's earlier output. Everytime I hold a new NOFX record, I have fleeting hope that it will recapture the bite and smartass swagger of those 90s records.

To be fair, "Coaster" has flashes of the irreverant skate punk style the band rests its cult hero status on, but in the end that's all they were. Flashes. At 10 tracks and just over a half an hour, the album felt less like a record and more like an afterthought. If I didn't know any better, i would have even gone as far to say lazy.

Would have that is, until i read this exerpt from an interview frontman Fat Mike did with Bay Area Decider a few weeks back:

"We're lazier," he said. "We're not as hungry now. We kind of take it easy. Around 1994, we reached a high point in our music."

Had this been said 10 years ago, it probably would have been funny, but instead it now feels strangely true. The band's famously sloppy, couldn't give a fuck attitude has long been it's trademark, but rarely has that attitude translated so clearly on record. "Coaster" does sound like they pushed it through and tried to beat the clock. Part of me gets it. These guys have been around longer than I've been alive (literally), so maybe they are fatiguing. And if they want to take it easy maybe that's their right, even if it occasionally comes at expense to fans like me. It would be hard to argue they don't deserve it.

But I'll go down with the ship. The next time they want to mail it in with a less than stellar batch of tunes, I'll be right there ready to buy, hoping against hope that it's the second coming of "So Long And Thanks For All the Shoes." It's like a drug you just can't kick, but like Fatty says, "Drugs Are Good."

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart

The debut offering from New York's buzzed to the stars indie outfit The Pains of Being Pure at Heart raises an interesting question: Is it fair to slight a band for their derivative tendencies if they're, well, good?

If the band's self titled Slumberland debut proves anything, it's that it knows how to pick its spots. The opening chords to "Contender," muddled in distortion yet invariably sweet in its own raucous way, immediately show the band's hand, conjuring instant comparisons to shoegazer staples Jesus and Mary Chain and My Bloody Valentine and C86 staples such as the Field Mice and the Wedding Present, among others. There's literally nothing on the record that doesn't work off of a well laid template, but the end result is thoughtfully produced set of 10 songs that leave a strong impression. In a digital age where music comes and goes so fast, that's success in and of itself.

Timing, perhaps more than anything, is the Pains' saving grace. With "indie rock" still going strong in mainstream circles almost five years after its initial break through the surface, there's a swelling market for the band's jangling noise pop, and the band is smart enough to take cues from the masters. And with My Bloody Valentine coming out of hiding for the first time in over 16 years, the Pains' sound, which out of context would barely register as little more than an audible clusterfuck, is put into sharp focus. If nothing else they keep good company.

So back to the songs. The band sticks suffocatingly close to the formula of shredding guitars and feedback, calling to mind a time when indie was indie, before it was a brand and was just earnest music bravely skirting the fringes of pop music. The Pains lay a goose egg in terms of ingenuity, but they successfully recreated the sounds of a timeless era of early indie rock, and that should prove good enough for most.