Subterranean Masquerade, Mountain Fever (Sensory Records)
As you’d guess by a band name like Subterranean Masquerade, we have an oddball foreign act on tap here. It’s the fourth full-length from an Israel-based seven-piece billed as a progressive metal band with world overtones, all of which is true, a straightforward power-metal thingamajig with Middle Eastern plug-ins. The Spinal Tap-ish shtick I expected didn’t run too late, but that’s not necessarily to infer that your average metal-head wouldn’t be into this, particularly anyone who thinks of bands like Bury Your Dead as high art, or digs, on the swirling sandstorm front, Dracovallis. It’s not opera-metal for sure, either, although I can tell these guys would love it to be; no, it’s more po-faced, think ’80s Michael Schenker Group with (take a wild guess) Serj Tankian as its sensei. Like any metal album, I’m sure that if you cranked this to physically dangerous levels, it, you know, probably cranks, and I didn’t detect anything stolen from Scorpions or any of those other old bands, so who knows, you might like it. B
Poppy, “Eat” (as yet unreleased)
Doing something different here, adding a little hype to a pile that’s fast building around this Boston-based singer, whose performance of this up-till-now-unreleased single was about the only thing indicative of a pulse at the last Grammys. The 24-year-old YouTuber is further (unnecessary) proof that we’ve entered a new, post-Gaga era of rock stardom, one that revolves around not just making cool songs and videos but also engaging directly with audiences on a daily basis by being, well, absolutely demented. Fans at home can play too, because as you know, nowadays, the concept of DIY isn’t just for bands with a few dollars with which to rent a studio but for basically anybody to become whatever they want. This song isn’t as remarkable as a few of her earlier tunes (go watch the video for “I Disagree” if you want to hear a cross between older Nine Inch Nails, Meshuggah and riot-grrrl-on-crazy-juice), but it does stick with her genre-squishing mission statement. It’s an undeniably accessible but hellaciously heavy noise-whirlwind, like KMFDM jamming with (spoiler) Meshuggah (she obviously looooves those guys). The only thing surprising is that it took so long for something like this to bust out of the gate. A+
PLAYLIST
A seriously abridged compendium of recent and future CD releases
• Well would you look at that, guys, the new-release list for April 30 actually has interesting stuff on it, not just a bunch of refried hacky nonsense that makes me want to become a hardened day-drinker. I know that very few people reading this know a lot about indie bands, but Atlanta-based Manchester Orchestra is one you might want to look into, unless you are a typical hipster who only indulges in really bad, smelly junk like Pavement or Versus or whatever. The caveat, though, is that I haven’t listened to a new Manchester Orchestra song in something like five years, so for all I know The Million Masks Of God is going to be one of the worst listening experiences a human could have, and so we’ll get this out of the way first, so that if it makes me barf I’ll have time to recover. So I’m checking out “Bedhead,” the new single, and nope, thou shalt not barf, because it is like what you’d hear if Trent Reznor teamed up with someone like Front Line Assembly to do a soundtrack piece for Stranger Things. It has a buzzy noise-rock side but also a veneer of classic ’80s-technopop, with goofy synths that sound kind of neat. The singer still has that Conor Oberst throat-lozenge sound, which has always been cool. I don’t know if they meant to go goth-pop, but that’s what this is really. It’s OK!
• Oh, no, it’s Guided by Voices again, with another freakin’ album, just because it’s a month that doesn’t end with a “J” or whatever rule bandleader Robert Pollard goes by. I mean, we’ve talked about him before, how he puts out albums all the time, and here I am again, getting suckered into giving him some press love only because I forgot that he doesn’t deserve any. But it’s those things you forget, you know? Like, every time I swipe through the Netflix releases I actually stop to read the description for I Am Not Okay With This and then quickly remember it’s stupid and I’ll never watch it (Netflix really needs to add an option to remove stupid movies from lists to save people some time) (OK, if they’ve already done that and I just don’t know it yet, I applaud your genius-level technical acumen and urge you to apply to NASA to help them build better space shuttles). Oh, where were we. Yes, Earth Man Blues, album number eleventy trillion from this stupid band. One of Pollard’s million new songs is “Trust Them Now.” Spoiler, it’s boring, like Ramones but with a singer who was in some ’60s psychedelic band, and (double spoiler) it doesn’t have a hook. Would y’all groovy trippy cats like to shag now, or shag later, my God I hate this band.
• Yow, my little Zippys, looky there, it’s Boston-sports-affiliated Irish-oi band Dropkick Murphys, with their new “slab,” called Turn Up That Dial! You bet your shamrocks there’s a new single, to lure you in, and it’s called… wait, I can’t repeat the title in a family newspaper, so how about the other song, “Middle Finger!” Will there be penny-whistles and Titanic-lower-deck accordions and mentions of Bobby Orr? Yup, same old thing, sea-shanty kazoo or whatever at the beginning, then some thrash-punk. At least they’re consistent (burp).
• OK, let’s end this miserable exercise with Scottish sludge-emo band Teenage Fanclub, whose new album Endless Arcade will have “Used — Like New” prices on Amazon in like a week. The single, “Home,” is wimpy strummy twee-pop, not grunge-indie or whatever. My faith is deeply shaken, folks.
Retro Playlist
It was 10 years ago this week in this very space when I felt it necessary to explain why I wasn’t going to write a proper review of the then-new Gorillaz album, The Fall. I forget what my problem was, but either way, that virtual band has never done it for me, nor have any of their skinny-jeans cohorts, you know, MGMT, Modest Mouse and whatever. For some idiotic reason, most of the guys in The Clash guested on that record, but nevertheless, a lot of critics didn’t like it. I saved us all some time: “I’ve heard the samples, and my instincts tell me that downloading the other 45 minutes of it ‘to get the full effect’ will yield disappointment.” Disclaimer that I don’t — and you should be well aware of this by now — hate everything that came out in the Aught-10s, but oddly enough, that was when I became an adamant, immovable 1930s/1940s big-band fan. Yes, rock ’n’ roll had become that messed up and worthless. For the most part.
But there was some joy in Mudville that so-long-ago week. Undeveloped, a darkwave/techno-goth album from Skinny Puppy frontman Ohgr, was on the docket, so I ranted spastically about how awesome it was (“’Nitwitz is my favoritest song ever, for today”), not that that meant it was perfect. Even with longtime Skinny Puppy engineer Mark Walk helping out, there was some weirdness that was too much, specifically in “Crash,” a denouncement of U.S. health care (the actual 911 call that came in when Michael Jackson died).
Magnetic Man, the dubstep all-star team of Benga, Skream and Artwork, were also in the process of releasing their self-titled debut that week. It was way cool and deserved better than the C+ grade I slapped on it, but as a techno work, yeah, there were some bothersome things. Overall, it came across as “a term paper for Ableton Hipness 101,” boasting only one legitimate club-slammer (“I Need Air”). Consisting of “Salem-style haunted house, drum-n-bass, Justice hard-glitch and euro-club orchestrations in a manner less consistent with melodic appropriateness than with decorum,” it apparently bothered me then a lot more than it does now. Oopsy daisy.