Jerry DeCicca is one hell of a songwriter. He has quietly amassed a catalog of gems over the course of several stellar albums, an ep and a handful of equally stellar 7″ tracks that follow a solemn tradition, a niche of singer songwriters that defy categorization. Americana? Folk? Country? The songs on Don’t Blame the Stars possess elements of all these genres, but are hardly bound to them. These are dusty, lived in ruminations on faith, friendship and the power of music, delivered in DeCicca’s unmistakable baritone. He is accompanied by an incredibly sympathetic cast of talented musicians (including long-time band-mate Noel Sayre, who tragically passed mere months after the recording of this material), resulting in the fullest sounding, most accomplished set of songs the Black Swans have produced yet. The guitar playing of Chris Forbes shines throughout. Songs like “Joe Tex”, “Sunshine Street” and “I Forgot To Change The Windshield Wipers In My Mind” are some of the most upbeat songs in the Black Swans catalog, providing a perfect balance to the somber title track and the sparse “Little Things”. Don’t Blame The Stars is as excellent an album of Americana-tinged storytelling as you are likely to hear this year. Highly recommended.

-Andrew Lampela

The tale told over Canary‘s 11 songs is one of America during the Great Depression, specifically the story of a miner in my own adopted home of Athens County who is struggling through a particularly rough patch of his existence. A story of poverty and hopelessness that really turns out to be one of searching and understanding. Rem’s songs follow through those themes of closed mines and mills and a beautiful and storied landscape and culture that have been stolen away. It is that underlying hope that frames Canary, strength found in love, family, and the importance of home and tradition. “Sure things could be better, at least we have each other.” A story steeped in history, but as contemporary as they come.

Canary‘s production is beautiful (thanks to Josh and the fine folks of 3 Elliott Studios here in town), but its the songs themselves that carry the record and the band. The songs are intense, musically and lyrically and lush instrumentation is added from peripheral instruments (banjos, fiddles, harmonicas) and from rollicking, fuzzy versions of their basic setup (Adam’s badass guitar solo on “1933 Great Depression” and Billy’s sweet organ on “At Least We Have Each Other”) for the more uptempo numbers. “The Curse of Canaanville”, “Mountain Child”, and the beautiful plea “Adeline of the Appalachian Mountains” showcase both the depth of Remnant’s songwriting and voice while showing the range of the band itself.

Another of my personal favorite Athens songwriters, Mike Elliott said today “Southeast Engine has begun the take over. review after review, blog after blog, I see things like this..” and then links to a review of a recent Chicago show with the headline “Southeast Engine’s show at Schuba’s almost too much to take”. I hope the reviews keep rolling in like that from the corners of this country, this album deserves it.

Visit:
southeastengine.com | misrarecords.com

The entire day after hearing this album it wouldn’t leave my head. It went on full-
force one day when I headed off on a long walk to a public library’s reading room, and
did not leave until the sound of a man skulking through the library stacks and making
aggressive humping noises quieted the entire room. Everybody, all six people at the same
wall of desks and chairs, froze and stared dead out the window in front of them. The man
suddenly appeared behind us in a camouflage fleece jacket, continuing his grunts, letting
us see in the window’s reflection the faces he made during his quick animal spasms and
his swollen pornographic yowls. He then yelled out, “You don’t think I know, son?” and
punctuated the question with a phantom spit at his side. I sat on the ground, my head
level with his waist a few yards away, and expected him to bring my head in for a quick
thrust to the neck. Instead I got the familiar: an accusation of not knowing and a phantom
spit. He moved down the line of desks—six people!—and everybody reacted in the same
baffled, frozen way. After the last person, he went to a wall and rolled his head from one
ear to the other, humped something imaginary for a moment, and then sped off down an
emergency exit, leaving us in an ominous silence. But then everybody collectively
repressed it: Fingers typed casually again. Papers shuffled around. Drinks sipped. And
Cherry Bomb came back on in my head, as cheery and catchy as it ever was.
God knows there could be no greater test for the strength of a 12-minute EP.

Buy: Cherry Bomb EP

It was quite a shock this past fall, then, to hear tell of a new record.  I usually greet these types of reunions with a fair amount of trepidation.  Putting an album out after so many years usually goes the way of having a release show in the lobby of a Holiday Inn or, at best, being a pale imitation of the reasons you loved the band in the first place.  Orchestraville did neither of these things.  Instead, they decided to put out a 12 track collection of amazing pop songs. Pop in the long, almost-forgotten sense of a band playing intelligent, well written songs with great production that unfold over repeated listening.  Pop in the sense of attention to detail.  Pop with the sense of, well, not sucking.

Gone are the acute angularities and innate quirkiness of their earlier releases/incarnations.  Instead, Chris Forbes, Keith Hanlon, Dave Pascoe and new-to-me Parker Paul have crafted  a stellar set of thoughtful rock songs that, considering the influences,  sound like Orchestraville.  Sure, there are some distinctly British-feeling moments to some of these songs (particularly “Only A Song” and “You Wanna Be Like That”), but these are minor quibbles that tell me you’d rather reference things than listen to music.  There is an amazingly attentive eye on all of the arrangements, with layer upon layer of subtle instrumentation always benefiting the song.  “Phil Och’s Flag,” “The Bird Without Wings,” “Poison Berries,” and my personal favorite “I Could Stay Here All Night Long” nail the art of pop rock, marrying catchy rhythms and smart lyrics to toe-tapping perfection. I won’t lie—not all of these songs are winners for me.  Seriously, though, if the only thing wrong with a record is that I want to skip “I Take It Back” every once in a while…

Poison Berries is a fantastic collection of songs, by people that still give a shit about writing real songs.  I highly suggest you go to orchestraville.net and start figuring out how you’re going to get a copy.  Oh, if you were wondering—yes, Pascoe is still a badass.

Any number of Whale Zombie’s songs could be equally at home in a Nuggets compilation or on the iPod of a hungover OU underclassman. It’s apparent that they like to screw around with pedals, which will always earn high praise from me. Still, that never really prevents them from writing some truly catchy, rocking tunes. Some of my favorite tracks are the raucous “Ridin’ the Wave” with it’s singalong melodies, “Battle for Middle Earth”, an instrumental ditty that shakes the walls with its thundering chorus and sprint to a false finish and the wonderfully sludgy “Demons”.

Ultimately, any album review can be boiled down to one simple question: is it worth a listen? In this case, the answer is a clear and resounding “yes.” Check out their Myspace, Facebook and Bandcamp presences for information and downloads. Their label, Dark Circle Records, also has a site, but it seems to be in its infancy as this is being written. Whale Zombie might not be everyone’s cup of tea, nevertheless there is plenty in there for fans of surf rock, psychedelic freak outs, retro pop, heavy instrumentals and Final Fantasy IX to enjoy. Just watch out for the Ultra Sound Wave! That shit can fuck up your entire party.

Buy: Whale Zombie LP

Megachurch offers up the soundtrack to the end of days with driving, gigantic drums and a duo of talented bassists. The only vocals to be heard are samples from numerous preachers speaking the gospel to throngs of adoring followers. Plus, it’s all recorded and mixed so masterfully that you’ll feel as if you’re sitting in Ted Haggard’s congregation just as the floor cracks open and hell’s legions drag him down into the abyss. Through a mere six songs, Megachurch rocks out more than most bands can accomplish in their entire careers. Let’s break it down track by track.

1. “The Second Coming” Every album should start out this way. The drums blast in and get heads banging as bilingual preparations for judgement day are made. All the while one big riff holds it all together. Get ready. Jesus is about to come.

2. “Exorcism” As expected, this song opens with the sounds of one bad ass demonic possession. Not quite as predictable is the fact that it features one of the best bass riffs I’ve ever heard. It kicks in at about the minute and a half mark. You’ll know when you hear it and your colon drops out of your underpants. This may be the best song here.

3. “The Mission” Are you ready for a recorder orchestra? Probably not. Too bad. This is an incredibly strong track that features some of the nicest harmonic distortion on the album.

4. “The Gay Agenda” Yikes! I’ve always felt that religious persecution of homosexuals was based in nothing more than hatred and fear. The samples used within might lead you to agree. This is easily the most unsettling track on this album.

5. “More Mormon Than Mormon” Best. Song title. Ever.

6. “Tithing” Opening up with a beautiful blast of feedback and featuring some of best melodies on the album, “Tithing” wraps things up perfectly. If there was any lingering question leading into it, this closing song proves beyond doubt that Megachurch is not a gimmicky, single-note band. Any fan of instrumental greatness will soon be driven to play this one on heavy rotation.

Megachurch offers listeners a Newer Testament founded solidly on amplifier worship. They manage to simultaneously provide both a stinging commentary on fundamentalist Christianity and a killer collection of incredibly heavy tunes. I just can’t find this album’s weakness. It’s simply fantastic. And if all that still isn’t enough to get you to buy this record, the artwork on the LP’s sleeve features an evangelist minister wielding a flaming sword while mounted on a dragon that’s flying through outer space. Holy shit. That’s fucking awesome.

Buy: Megachurch

The first few songs on Cleveland native, Tom Evanchuck’s album, Tom, have lots of talk about train stations, roads, coming home, etc.—the usual sort of reflective, acoustic shtick. But at about two tracks in, it’s clear Tom makes it work better than most.

Sure, there’s the Lonesome Dove sort of fiction lingering behind his ode to his “darlin’ Mayapple,” and in a few tracks where Evanchuck can be pictured leaning against a tree in the Old West—guitar and brow dusty from livin’. But sometimes a guitar and a great voice can turn even the cutest, Ray-Ban-sporting twenty-year old into a weathered cowboy. Cue the bluesy “Bury My Wife” where he declares, “I’m gonna bury my wife under that old pine shade. Lord knows that woman don’t know how to behave.”

This storytelling works because Evanchuck says things simply. In “Morning Train” he declares, “All I wanted is to love you.”

And he’s modest. In “Come One Come All” he sings, “I was born in the bottom and my head fits in no crown. I’d like to thank you all for comin’ around.”

It certainly helps that Evanchuck can also play that guitar really, really well. In “Come One Come All,” he lets his accompaniment bounce softly while he tells the story. The contrast between the tiny, intricate tweeks and harrums pacing quietly in the background as Tom spills his guts only intensifies the feeling that Tom is letting you in on a pretty serious secret.  Goosebumps.

In other songs, Evanchuck lets his instrument do the talking—the notes winding and jumping in perfect time.  That family of the curliest, happiest twangs frantically somersault, one after the other, only to meet up with the bluest voice.

Well, it’s more than a voice. Think the quiet thoughtfulness of Nick Drake, but with the grit of Citizen Cope. It’s a voice with patience—unafraid to hold out a note against the bumbling guitar and decidedly simple when telling a story.

Evanchuck masters the art of impossible calmness and palpable sincerity– only making his twenty years of age more baffling. This voice no-doubedtly picked up its leathery anatomy from decades in the coalmine or lifetimes in a whiskey bottle. Or maybe this is just the best of Cleveland.

Evanchuck’s Tom sounds the best when remembering things in sepia. The man might as well be crooning over a campfire—the stars and the leaves and the smoke pining to participate in his tales. It’s the marriage of storytelling with simple-telling that sells it. And it’s the counter between skittering guitar and uninhibited voice that make it.

- Laura McMullen

Full length number three from Athen’s vanguard of punk/hardcore/garage/psyche, WE MARCH’s “Creator/Destroyer”, ranges from the speed and fury of 80’s H/C punk to scrappy garage stomp and murky psyched-out jams, but don’t think for one second that this is anything but the most scathing Punk record you’ve heard in a long time. While “the kids” are out there trying to recreate the past glory of these genres, WE MARCH manages to destroy them. Whether it’s uptempo ragers like “beep beep beep”  or “the choice” (from their 7’’)  or slower swaggering numbers like “never compromise” or “wash away”  you come away with the feeling that, just like the first wave of punks (who had no reference to what they were creating, unlike so much of the rehash of the past ten years), these guys don’t care about emulating their heros, just about creating music on their own terms, and for almost ten years (!) they’ve done just that. Released on their own NON-PROPHET record label “Creator/Destroyer” proves that even in the 21st century, punk can still be original, exciting and inspirational. Highly recommended.

Contact them:
wemarch.net, myspace.com/wemarch
wemarchbox@hotmail.com

The relationships we have with music are as varied and complicated as the ones we have with people.  Sometimes a song or album is love at first listen—swooning as I hit repeat for the fifth, sixth, seventh time—enraptured in immediacy.  Other times, the relationship takes a little while to develop.  Maybe I haven’t heard the album in the right setting, or maybe I haven’t heard it enough, or maybe I just didn’t understand it right away.  But I keep listening until eventually a deeper respect forms because of the piece’s slowly unraveling mysteries and complexities.  Percolator has managed to do both.  Man is Not a Bird is an album that had me from the get go, and then kept growing on me.

Man is Not a Bird falls under the large banner of “indie” music, and yet it manages to avoid the more obnoxious “indie” signifiers–the morose warbling, the fashionable apathy, the poor me and my existential crisis angst.  I enjoy a lot of music that has these characteristics, but I want to have fun too.  This album is a lot of fun, and it manages to do so without losing a bit of complexity or sophistication.

The album contains an abundance of dichotomy in both form and content.  Percolator has three songwriters with three distinct voices, and yet it is hard to know where one ends and the other begins.  The guitar work intertwines clean and distorted tones seamlessly.  The song “Prepared for Disaster” has a somber tone that contrasts with the uplifting lyrics.  “Safeward” is the tale of a bored sadomasochist.  “Svelte on the Veldt” pits two musical personalities against one another, and then depicts the musical melee that ensues.  These collisions of contradictions reward on repeated listens.

Percolator has crafted an album with a wide variety of ideas and sounds.  In the hands of lesser musicians, Man is Not a Bird may have been a train wreck, but in their more than capable hands the album is as cohesive as it is versatile.  Anyone can listen to Man is Not a Bird for FREE at www.percolatormusic.com, and everyone should.

The X Bolex began as a solo project for then Small Object a drummer Nate Scheible while he was still living in Athens, Ohio. But, The X Bolex is now a full band made up of  some of the greatest musicians in the Cleveland music scene. Nate also co-runs Zombie Proof Studios and recorded “This Time..” with fellow engineer Paul Maccarrone. In addition to Scheible (who has spent/spends time in Cleveland acts such as Self Destruct Button, Neo Nothing, The Washout Corporation, and Thee Scarcity of Tanks), the band is filled out by Matt Majesky (State of Ohio), Lou Arocho (Small Object a), and Dale Ursic (Homostupids, State of Ohio). Scheible’s songwriting has always been spectacular as have X Bolex’s previous albums, but there is something special that develops on their new record.

“This Time Next Year You’ll Be Oxidizing Stone” opens with the schizophrenic “Mastodon” which  almost puts the listener to sleep only to wake them right back up before swelling into a haze of Ursic’s drums and vibraphone from Kyle Farrell of Youngstown’s (the) giants of gender. Scheible’s attention to composition pays off with “Ice and Sand” which sits beautifully somewhere between Gastr Del Sol and The Sea and Cake. The album finds its climax with the surging beginning of “Mastoid Process” which sounds almost like something you would find on a Yes record and then turns into a beautiful backdrop for the dueling horns of Lou Arocho and Dan Wenninger. The true gem of the album comes at the very end with the gorgeous “When People Die At The Circus” which captures the band at its finest. The song’s lyrics discuss what I (as one who considers Nate to be a very close friend) can only imagine are statements about himself, and his likes and dislikes. Including “horn arrangements from early Chicago”, “earl grey tea” and my own personal favorite “a penchant for brown shoes”.

Listen: www.myspace.com/thexbolex

Cleveland’s Machine Go Boom has been one of my own personal favorite bands for years. Music For Parents is their second album after 2004’s Thank You Captain Obvious, both were recorded by Paul Maccarrone at Cleveland’s Zombie Proof Studios. Machine Go Boom’s music is an audio sugar rush, with band-leader Mikey Machine’s voice ranging from a beautiful swoon to the tone of a small child on Christmas morning after twelve cans of soda and an entire birthday cake. Mikey and the rest of MGB make music that really is a breath of fresh air.

This album reads like a re-telling of adolescence from that sense of insignificance (“Small”), to love (“800 lb. Gorilla”, “Mummy”), and even to social awkwardness (“Elmers Glue”, “Oh My”). Music For Parents captures the band perfectly and shows the spectrum they cover; from acoustic ballads with clever lyrics and catchy choruses (“800 lb. Gorilla”, “Parents”) to short pop-punk masterpieces (“Build Me A Ladder”, “Gentleman’s Reply”) and even a huge swelling number complete with brass and strings (“Oh My”). The centerpiece for the album to me would have to be “Niagara Falls” which (like many other MGB songs) is so catchy you’ll feel you have heard it a million times before and it will still keep you whistling and humming for months.

Adam Remnant, Southeast Engine’s principle penman and visionary, is a Dayton native living currently in that mythical berg of Athens, OH… a town often described as sleepy, dreamlike… you get the picture. Let me tell you about the Remnant’s house: piano, keyboard, drum here, drum there, harmonica, violin, organ… zounds of guitars. And that is not to mention the collective musical talent of the various characters often to be found lurking in and about the Remnant household on a given day: Adam Torres (backing vocals, guitar) lends a capable hand in the realization of Remnant’s musical vision, with distinct vocal harmonies that have become perhaps the most recognizable aspect of the band’s sound. Jesse Remnant (bass, keys), another Daytonite and recent addition to the band’s live lineup, and Leo DeLuca (drums), co-founding member and major hunk, round out the live band, which has recently completed its first tour as a quartet.

The new album is not exactly a departure from the band’s previous sound. It is rather the culmination of efforts, experiments, and emotions that have unfolded since 2005’s “Coming To Terms With Gravity”. However, “Wheel” differs in that it is a decidedly more cohesive sounding album than its predecessors.. “Wheel”, while not a departure, is unarguably an evolution of the Southeast Engine sound. The frequently laid-back melodic alt-country sound that had warranted countless comparisons to Wilco in years past has now evolved to warrant pointed comparisons to Okkervil River and My Morning Jacket–the new songs have a sense of yearning and importance that was absent on previous releases.

The album is put together in a manner such that the listener remains captivated for the entire 42 minutes… there is no coming up for air when you’re submerged in this album. And it’s pretty gosh-darned deep. “Wheel” is a veritable clinic in musical and thematic variations, song to song, bridge to chorus, hook to hook to delightful hook; the result is a soundscape as colorful and appealing as the album’s cover art. A new fancy is tickled with each lyric, ranging from the depths of despair and alienation (“Oh God…”, “Pursuit of Happiness pt. II”) to the highest heights of… well… despair and alienation (“Psychoanalysis”, “Taking the Fall”), but heights no less. It’s not melodrama, it’s just all-fired emotion beautifully articulated and sounded-out in a way that only Southeast Engine posses the ability to do. One thing most people agree on– it’s a damn fine album. Unless you like shitty music.

-by Jamie Rymers

On their debut album, Casual Future gets into character as musicians from the slacker set, slinging well-penned quips filled with cynicism and absurdity, while keeping pretty level heads.  It’s a well-balanced act owing much to lead singer Scott Spice’s almost ho-hum delivery, dancing drunkenly over lyrics finely calculated and clever.

This slouchy posture is propped up by the steady hand of Todd Jacops, on double duty as the entirety of the rhythm section.  Acoustic strumming throughout is tempered by Dustin Thomas’s caustic lead, often following ably, but perhaps foregrounded too infrequently.

Establishing their conceptual cleverness with opener “Abbrev.,” momentum threatens to dead-end with similar sounding grooves on “Light Pollution” and “Under the Affluence.”  It’d be a shame to step off here, as “Bury Me on the Moon” starts a string of standout songs simultaneously left of center and more pop-informed, book-ended by the stellar “Everyone Wants a Debutante.”

The band does well to stray from their comfort zone, as the culmination of the record dives back into a sonic territory that risks becoming indistinguishable.  It’s in this portion of the record that the band strikes a genuine emotional chord, achieving more through nuance.  Nate Schneible’s acumen for production shines here, with studio atmospherics providing a narrative texture for the album’s artful final arc.  Closer “Melatonin” is a succinct summation of the album’s virtues, a chorus of voices chiming in to help Scott usher the listener out in an eerie, heart warming way.

- by Matt Collander

More after the break….
Sometimes a band this big can be a daunting thing to experience. Stephen Pence and company have always managed to shrug that off; I Found Myself Asleep is well played and tight. Recorded at Athens’ own 3 Elliott Studio by Josh Antonuccio (who has recorded Southeast Engine’s recent efforts as well as Nostra Nova), Josh brings out the best in the Bears. Each song sweeping along and building slowly toward moments of climax, only to strip those away again and expose bridges of lush orchestration and all of these folks intertwining their instruments. She Bears wears its influences openly, mixing elements of Pavement, Modest Mouse, and several of its peers in the Athens music scene with a little extra bombast. These guys have always been a machine live, but this album has so much going on -in a good way- that it shames bands who have huge followings and recording contracts (ahem, Arcade Fire).

Pence has a way of making complex ideas using he most normal lines, such as in the opener “Victim” where he plainly states “I feel older, than I did last year”. Those lines stick with you. “Found Myself Asleep” and “What Morning Brings” are furiously driven by the drumming of Alex Eiler and stuck-in-your head riffs from Alex Douglas. The middle of the album is left to the epic “Misery” which builds slowly before launching full-on around Douglas’ beautiful noodling and Pence’s impassioned choruses. The band launches into the second-half with the poppy and polished “Winter” which is quickly becoming my personal favorite, and the barnstormer “Black Mannequins” which is carried along by frantic keys, power chords, and a bass-line taken out of 70′s southern rock and roll and thrown into an indie-rock band. And then in an almost perfect way, the album winds down with the mellow “Signals” and the old favorite “Surely” capping off a great record with a song that somehow manages to combine all of the above elements.

Go buy this album. Good job, Bears.

-Brian Koscho