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Jun 26, 2017







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Jen Gloeckner, VINE (self-released)




Wire, Silver/Lead (Pink Flag Records)

Some critics and fans like their Wire unhinged (their first two LPS and/or the Drill EP) and some like it (for lack of a better word) accessible (A Bell is a Cup, Manscape). Lump me with the latter; I wasn’t big on Pink Flag, much less Drill, although it could be said that Drill was a set of entirely new tunes, whether or not the “drill drill drill” mantra remained the same. The fact that this new album revisits the wacko-noise ethos is a testament to Baby Boom punks worldwide trying to stay relevant (regardless of punk’s demise way before Green Day showed up), but as a devotee of their more college-chart-friendly stuff (the coda of “Kidney Bingoes” still give me chills), I’m probably not the guy to talk to about this record’s few good points, sad to say. Architecturally it’s the usual formula, with Graham Lewis’s beloved, dippy baritone not showing up until Track 4 (“Forever and a Day”) but past that, it’s as though they’ve thrown their rules out the window, rough noise-rock sketches trying to distract fans from the formulaic, plain-vanilla rawk-rock that takes up too much space. “Sleep On the Wing” boasts a neat time signature, but elsewise it, and everything else here, sounds like it was hurriedly written on the plane to the studio. No, it’s not enough that their alien art-pop-rock mutations of old were stunning, one can’t let them get away with this. Skip this one, sad to advise. C+ — Eric W. Seager




Jen Gloeckner, VINE (self-released)
CD Reviews: March 30, 2017

03/30/17
By Eric Saeger news@hippopress.com



 Mississippi girl Gloeckner is making inroads into the mainstream after having signed a deal for movie/TV placement for her wetwork chill tunes, until now mainly characterized by acoustic guitars and Massive Attack programming. There was a lack of depth to earlier records that seems to have been solved here, first evidenced by opening acid-jazz-ish track “Blowing Through” and its seemingly endless layers of reverb-drenched flute, booze-drowned guitars and from-the-heavens backing voices. “Breathe” is even cooler, a swirling, lost-sounding Goldfrapp-imbued goth-swirl deal with a singularly impressive guitar solo break. “Colors” finds her circling back to the Americana from whence she originated, but here again we find some superb Tina Dico-esque layering, her pleas sweeping gently across the plains. “Firefly (War Dance)” floats goth-glitch under a subtly menacing trance-inducing tribal rhythm. And so on and so forth, very impressive — I’d queue a lot of this stuff up for someone with a Massive Attack fetish if I were Pandora, sure.






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