Robyn Writes

We Are Lost Boys – Life [EP]

Brit rock seems to be going through a revival of sorts at the moment.  What with bands such as Lower Than Atlantis taking over the airwaves and Twin Atlantic packing out cavernous halls, things are looking up for the formerly beleaguered scene which many naysayers previously mourned and declared extinct.  We Are Lost Boys fit well into the scene, with new E.P- Life, they create a kind of arena-sized hook-heavy Brit rock with more melodies than you can shake a stick at and a social conscious that despairs at modern Britain’s inner turmoil.  The first thing that hits you is the monstrous production which is polished and waxed to perfection and sounds more like a band who are headlining festivals rather than one who are still peddling the UK’s demoralizing toilet circuit.  Lyrics deal with the state of UK culture or the lack of herein, channelling the thoughts of a confused young man in an equally confusing and incomprehensible society.  Unfortunately, the lyrics lack any real bite or wit, relying more on simple uninspiring phrases of discontent such as in ‘Don’t Care’ and the rather dreary Generation X refrain of “I don’t care.”  Elsewhere, “What Now?” is smothered in gloom and minor chords, relying on subtle guitar and almost ethereal backing vocals to create the most restrained yet emotionally hard-hitting song on the E.P.  Despite the overt melodic emphasis throughout Life there is enough of a grungey disposition to ward off any outright pop palpitations.  Nevertheless, latest single ‘The Way Of The World’ seems to have been written for the radio, coming across like Hundred Reasons playing through The Smashing Pumpkin’s amps, boasting a stadium sized central riff and infectious melodic intuitions.  Vocals soar throughout with singer Danny utilizing his versatile pair of lungs to maximum effect and refusing to be buried by the weight of the music.  There’s no doubt that We Are Lost Boys have potential.  They already have the riffs and the hooks.  But what they don’t have are truly memorable songs, songs that you can imagine screaming back at the band along with several thousand others in a muddy field in Reading.  Yet, seeing as this is the band’s second ever release this can be forgiven.  Life is a genuinely brilliant starting point, but their best songs are yet to be written.

4 out of 5 high fives!

The Dopamines – Vices

It’s a wonder these boys ever found time to record a third album. Their schedule seems to be full from now until three premature deaths from alcohol poisoning or liver failure. It’s a good job they managed to muster up the self-restraint to remain conscious for long enough to record Vices, because in doing so they have found a niche which can appeal to both the hardcore punk rockers and the pop-punk kids out there.

The Dopamines’ first two albums were no doubt more raw, unadulterated punk than this latest release. The second album, Expect the Worst, was particularly well received and this culminated in the band winning the Cincinnati Entertainment Award for best punk band of 2011. With such a powerful second album, there’s always a concern for how the third will turn out.

Whether the lads consciously decided to make an album with a different sound to their first two is open for debate, but the change is no bad thing. With Vices the band has found a more polished sound, taking the edge off the aggression. The increase in notable guitar riffs also helps the record appeal more to the pop-punk market than the straight-up punk of its predecessors. This potentially lighter, happier sound still deals with the same dark subject matter as ever. The lyrics cover all of the generic punk-esque topics: from failing and broken homes to the combination of drugs and alcohol. While these are fairly unimaginative and generic topics, they seem more relevant than ever with the western world enveloped in financial turmoil and with people struggling to even secure a dead-end job. The production on the album is obviously crisper than any of the band’s previous releases. It isn’t as if they are holding back, they are just venting their pent up energy and emotion through a fast burning fire rather than a series of rapid explosions like before.

The album opens with an interchange between punk and pop-punk as the first track, “You’re So Vain”, jumps quickly between different time signatures (a little excessive for a song which is only 90 seconds in length). With “Paid In Full” the boys start dealing with the issues of being a 21st century punk: “Now we’re packing our bags, ’cause heaven doesn’t have any room for losers like us…”. They also deliver one of many catchy choruses’ throughout the record, although for The Dopamines this is very much a pop-punk song.

The band also manages to flex a bit of muscle towards the end of the final track “10 Stories”. Out of nowhere they hit in with a strong, heavy instrumental which wouldn’t be out of place on a more progressive album and conjures thoughts of the Young Guns style outro. Unlike the Dopamines’ earlier work, this album may not grab your attention immediately. The album’s more reserved sound means it is much more likely to build up and grow on you, luring you in rather than assaulting you at first listen.

There is an odd point in the album though. Part way through an otherwise promising song “Don’t Mosh The Organ”, the music fades out and then back in again after merely one or two seconds. The reason for this escapes me entirely and whatever the band’s intentions were it just sounds awkward. Other than this blip, “Vices” is a pretty solid pop-punk album even though it doesn’t bring anything new to the table. The highlight of the record has to be the bands’ new experiment with the pop side of punk, showing they can do more than get wasted and then write a quick, angry song about it.

3.5 out of 5 high fives!

Crusades – Parables [7-inch]

Crusades are suitably eerie. From a delightfully gothic EP cover to some serious Halloween sound effects, they seem dead set on claiming the mantle that has been abandoned by The Misfits, AFI and their contemporaries. And yet, for all that, Parables really is an EP of two halves.

Opening track, Parables I (Rites Of Atonement), with a creeping acoustic intro, bursts into a speedy, but melody-ridden punk affair. The lyrics are suitably gloomy, but the track itself is far more upbeat. Almost in opposition to its atmospheric beginnings, it feels like one of Alkaline Trio’s less spooky tracks but with a dual guitar approach. The call and response chorus is suitably catchy and simply doesn’t prepare you for Parables II (Gods, Too, Decompose). The heavy bass intro and a far doomier guitar tone feels more like that early AFI sound, but the band introduce some insane tapping that requires a double take. Vocal duties are passed around the band more equally in Parables II and lead to an echoing, haunting chant followed by some seriously blood curdling growls at the end. It’s in this moment that I realise Crusades aren’t just AFI/Samhain 2.0, but have managed to eschew the weaknesses of those acts and hollow out their own niche in the horrorpunk gravestone of destiny. Lyrically, it’s far more impressive than those bands have been in years; Crusades are challenging notions of religion and the failures and hypocrisy of religion in the modern day to superb effect.

If you’re a horrorpunk fan, then Parables just can’t be ignored. It’s clever, dark and is truly reclaiming the “punk” in horrorpunk.

4.5 out of 5 high fives!

Pilot To Gunner – Guilty, Guilty

Pilot To Gunner are hardly the most prevalent band, its been eight long years since they last produced an L.P- 2004’s Get Saved.  One theory for what they have been doing in that time is routinely injecting themselves with homemade shots of adrenaline mixed with Ian MacKye’s sweat whilst laboriously dissecting every aspect of songmanship to create the perfect juxtaposition between visceral aural attack and  bare emotional tenderness.

 

With their latest record Guilty Guilty, Pilot To Gunner have melded together the best parts of several genres.  They encompass everything that was great about post punk – cold spiky abrasiveness whilst at the same time showcasing an indie-inspired grasp on melodic intuitions, with each fighting for prevalence.  Beneath the surface there lingers a post-hardcore desire to blow off steam in the most complex, and often, the most indirect way possible.  This band is as likely to whip you into an arm-flailing frenzy as it is to claw its way into your chest cavity and pull at your heartstrings with a stealthy dose of emo-inspired subtle sensitivity.

 

Opener ‘L.A.’ is a stomping little punk number that grabs attention with its catchy chorus and crunchy powerchords which are sliced apart by the lead guitar’s piercing twang.  Indications of the brilliance of this record are quick to appear with the sumptuous instrumental break on ‘High Command’ sounding like a post hardcore carnival, bongos pound in a kind of nihilistic celebration as a groove-laden bass gets the booty’s shaking before the anthemic chorus that has a distinct whiff of Make Do And Mend about it.  ‘Execution Stylist’ is easily the most direct and pissed off song on the record; a relentlessly driving piece of music that builds in intensity and pace but thankfully manages to end before any band members suffer any serious haemorrhages. ‘If We Make It Back East’s’ painfully simple 3 note minimalistic coda shows the extent of the bands lean toward post-punk’s stark sterility, whilst a hung-spoken, half-sung vocal keeps things low key but no less engrossing. Meanwhile, the riff that opens ‘All The Lights’ is straight up Fugazi if their only concern was to get the kids a-jumpin’ and a-moshin’.  ‘Cardiac Event Planner’ uses angelic female backing vocals- a brilliant touch and one that helps define the most sublime song on the album thanks in turn to some beautifully crafted production courtesy of J Robbins of Jawbreaker fame who’s influence is all over this album as well as many of Pilot To Gunner’s heroes and peers.  What’s more, he is the perfect choice to meld together the bands old school throwbacks and twinklings of modern influence.  The last half of the album shines a light on subtlety rather than outright aggression.  Evidently they aren’t just a band focused on creating an uncompromising catharsis and ridding themselves of their demons by relentlessly screaming into the mic whilst furiously strumming at a guitar splattered in fresh specks of blood.  Xylophone tinklings on ‘Let’s Do This Again’ are another example of the subtle incorporation of outside instruments, in this instance they permeate the high end with their shrill beauty in wonderful juxtaposition to the anger of the chorus.  The electronic drum intro on ‘Son of the Downstate’ sounds like a totally different band a gives a quick glimpse of the group’s contemporary viability, not just their slightly more prominent revivalist tendencies.

 

Although this is a record with a serious yearning for times past, there is clear modern day awareness and an acceptance that the music Pilot To Gunner holds so dear is, after all, twenty-or-so years old.  By carrying on the tradition of experimentation that their heroes in bands such as Fugazi were so focused upon, adding dashes of modern influence here and there and approaching it with such hunger and discontent, Pilot To Gunner has created a vital record.  It manages to sound fresh and electrifying.  It cuts like a razorblade, lyrically and aurally and sticks resolutely inside your head.

 

If you ever happen to encounter anyone who needs a bit of education in the 90’s underground sound (and spirit), don’t give them Fugazi’s Repeater or Quicksand’s Slip, give them Guilty, Guilty.  For these eleven songs encompass the forward thinking nature of the genre, always opposed to being a watered down commodity and yet always open to experimentation and the incorporation of new sounds whilst creating songs that hit hard and leave you begging for more.   

5 out of 5 high fives!

The Rise Of The Pre-Order Bundle

I love stuff. Things. Merchandise. Tat. When Bring Me The Horizon decided to make dick shaped silly bands available on their last tour, I was one of the first to the merch desk, cash in hand, close to wailing ‘Fine sir, my life would be enriched with the purchase of overpriced elastic bands that I’ll never open and ultimately leave in a drawer somewhere!’. When My Passion released a delightfully lurid, gold plastic mac for their golden tour, I too decided that I’d spiral into a pit of depression should I not dress myself in a massive metallic bin bag. But my money-scattering doesn’t end with novelty rubbish.

I go to a lot of gigs, I binge, I feel guilty, but then I want more.  It began innocently enough. When I was twelve, I somehow persuaded my mother to take me halfway across the country to see Meatloaf. Naturally, I wanted to get a t-shirt to commemorate the gig, to show my friends how much I loved that chubby warbler (hey, I doubt your first ‘proper gig’ was much cooler). Stupidly and relentlessly, I carried on with this perceived necessity for merchandise well into my teenage years and beyond. As I left home for the first time, I found that I could travel, live out my dream of following a whole tour and see so many bands that I’d wanted to for years. I went mad, travelled everywhere and bought everything. Then it happened. I came home, bought my new life back with me and unpacked it. Have you ever seen a family stage a drug intervention? Seen a mother hold up a small bag of something white and powdery and ask why? Well switch that bag for over one hundred and twenty t-shirts and you’ve got a pretty good idea of the situation. While I’m cold turkey on shirts, I still regularly splash out on pre-orders. Oh merchandise, I just can’t quit you.

When many bands now announce the release date of their new album/EP/single/bowel movement, they also announce the various options by which to pre-order it. We’re no longer offered a CD, the music itself, no! We’re offered the DVD (some of which can be rather good), the commemorative t-shirt, the flag, the belt buckle, the bottle opener, the pencil sharpener and the lenticular poster. Will we ever use them? Of course not. When was the last time you thought ‘What I really need in my life is a commemorative jam jar for the B side of a dodgy single release’. It’s the exclusivity that drags our cursor over to the PayPal button, the threat of missing out on one of fifty. The very idea that we’d miss out on the album with commemorative baseball cap fills us with fear. Our enjoyment of the release will be severely dampened should we not shell out another £15 for things we don’t really want. I for one was sure that I wouldn’t be fully appreciating the full experience of Polar’s Iron Lungs if I didn’t buy the commemorative print. And I certainly wouldn’t enjoy Cradle of Filth’s Darkly, Darkly Venus Aversa without the art prints and the uninspiring t-shirt.  In short, add ‘limited’ to the end of any old thing and you’ve pretty much guaranteed yourself a sale.  Add a countdown to how many are left and you’ve got even more.

It’s hard to figure out which invented the beast of the bundle; the label or the musician. Musicians are more often than not, ‘starving artist’ types, so any means of capitalising on their product is sure to be embraced. But moreso nowadays, even small, unsigned bands are offering their own ‘bundles’ and limited releases. All of which is neither here nor there, but the whole focus of many bands, both established and otherwise, has shifted considerably. Firstly, take My Passion. Opposed to establishing a small merchandise section to their online presence, they formed ‘My Passion Fashion’; a standalone merchandise website that at one time held around twenty t-shirt designs. In the end, following the end of all Inside This Machine promotion, the dust began to settle and My Passion Fashion crumbled. On the other end of the spectrum, there’s the times when non-official band merchandise becomes available; the plectrum or the setlist of the online world. Every now and again, the opportunity arises to own something from a video or from an artist’s personal collection, and this is where prices begin to skyrocket.

All of us at TwoBeatsOff are big fans of Kickstarter-esque self-funding/fan-funding options, but when the options go beyond pledging to buy the CD or offering a small financial boost to an artist, lines begin to blur. Take Yashin’s largely fan-funded We Created A Monster. Through Pledgemusic, fans were able to preorder the CD, get their name in the album sleeve or even attend a meet and greet- all for a price. But many options were beyond self indulgent; fans were able to buy t-shirts worn by the vocalists for sums approaching three figures. This is both frightening both in terms of future trends and of sheer money-grabbing behaviour, especially when you’re aware of the young and impressionable ages of many of your fans. Bring able to own a piece of your favourite artist’s world is, for want of a better term, fan crack. With more bands picking up on this financial power, the distance and power balance between fan and artist may birth a further problematic and destructive relationship.