The Weekly Jive
Beau Jennings, Melvins, The Notwist
By: John Schacht , Paul Rogers
Beau Jennings—Beau Jennings & the Holy Tulsa Thunder (Silence Records)
This solo debut from the lead singer of the Oklahoma-born band Cheyenne is the kind of record that might have survived the cut-out bin when gas was $2.50 a gallon, but not today; it’s not bad, but nowhere near memorable enough for these belt-tightening times. Built primarily around the twin pillars of guitar and piano, Jennings’ songs—be they marches, shuffles, ballads or would-be rockers—are pretty enough, but always feel mid-tempo, gliding past with the same monotony that driving across a state like Oklahoma evokes. The absence of pedal steel, banjo, fiddle or most other country rock accoutrements—which can sometimes mask the material’s ordinariness—hurts this record. Leadoff cut “Holy Tulsa Thunder” initially sounds like some mix of the Old 97s and Whiskeytown, but skirts too close in the end to soft-core twang like the Eagles or Jackson Browne. Likewise, “The Opolis” suggests A.M.-era Wilco, only without Jeff Tweedy’s hooks or underlying angst, and “Girl From Oklahoma” is the Jayhawks without the transcendent harmonies. Jennings’ homegrown narratives contain some arresting images, but the lukewarm settings sap them—and the record overall—of any true staying power. (John Schacht)
Melvins—Nude With Boots (Ipecac)
I’ve often listed Melvins as my most despised band. When I saw them get booed-off while opening for Tool I thought their plodding, in-joke dirge earned them every single middle finger. I’ll admit I had a smarty-pants opening line ready for this review before I even heard Nude With Boots (something about my dog being able to bark—or even barf—a better record than this). But Nude charmed me with its organic chunky/fiddly riffs; eccentric, almost Monty Python-esque vocals; gargantuan fuzzed-out bass; and an overall aura of couldn’t-give-a-fuck integrity. After nearly 25 years and as many albums of rotating bass players, Melvins have absorbed bass/drums duo Big Business for their past two discs. Now we get twice the drumming (literally); twice the vocals (bassist Jared Warren doubles many of frontman King Buzzo’s utterances); twice the riffery (‘cos the bass is loud); and, yes, twice the fun. Nude With Boots puts Black Sabbath through a proggy, post-punk boot camp to create uncompromising and adventurous yet (just about) accessible metal. (Paul Rogers)
The Notwist—The Devil, You + Me (Domino)
In 2002, Neon Golden was a left-field indie hit for this (now) 20-year-old German outfit, which began life making near-metal sonic noise. Eventually, computer blips and processed beats propelled actual melodies, like Fridge’s glitch grafted onto full-fledged songs. Back in ’02 such computer-generated alchemy between indie rock and electronic still had the sheen of newness to it; to their credit, six years later The Notwist prove they still have something to say in the idiom. Interestingly, opener “Good Lies” is the least like Neon Golden; with its driving guitars and a synth relegated to background bleeps through most of it, and Markus Acher’s hesitant lyrics front-and-center, the propulsive song is practically American Analog Set-like. But the rest of the record is split into gentler acoustic-based pieces like the title cut, where the digital and organic—horns, strings, glockenspiel—complement each other a la Adem’s chill-out laptop folk, and more angst-ridden tempos like “Gravity,” its sampler scree and looped feedback bursts eventually coalescing into logical sense. The narratives may be in keeping with the long dark tradition of German nihilism, but The Devil, You + Me certainly offers hope for The Notwist’s fans. (John Schacht)
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